one poo, two poo, three poo
Mes203: my agency has more bathrooms than they need (building was built-
though since remodeled-before desegregation) and yet when I have to do #2, there’s ALWAYS someone in the women’s room. Why are you dawdling in there people? I refuse to go #2 if someone else is around. I turn around & walk out.
mih0w: hahaha
mih0w: and wait?
mih0w: for what?
mih0w: for empty?
Mes203: Yep.
mih0w: what if someone comes in mid poo?
mih0w: do you stop?
mih0w: and wait
Mes203: well, that I can’t control
mih0w: haha
Mes203: heh
mih0w: indeed
mih0w: that sucks
Mes203: Pet peeve #2 (hah) is when someone comes in & uses the stall immediately nest to mine when there are several available
mih0w: haha
when i was in graduate school, the women’s studies department was on the 9th floor of the office bldng my office was in (I was on the 5th floor). whenever i had to poo, i went up to the 9th floor because I knew the men’s room would be empty and that nobody would know who demolished the place.
my wife referred to such activity as “mad bomber” runs.
one time i went to the mens room on the 5th floor, where I worked. While i was doing my business the REAL FAMOUS ancient professor (who you needed an appointment to see) came shuffling in. He tried to open my stall door but it was locked, forcing him to use the handicapped stall. He is a short man. Handicapped stall has a BIG potty. My bowels shut down immediately and I left the laureate sitting on the commode with his feet dangling. i dropped out of grad school soon after that …
Over a poo? The power of poo. Zen in the art of pooing.
Oh sweet jesus. Funny stories, one and all.
racking my brain thinking of short and ancient academics… Geoffrey Hartman is small… Our roomie from this summer peeped Derrida’s weenie at a public toilet in England… going into a potty after Zizek would kill a person, for sure…
Why do I assume you were studying phil in the first place? I suppose the poo neuroses would give a little hint, haha.
I pee’d next to Newt Gingrich at the Basillica (the largest Catholic Church in our country) after Easter Mass.
while zizek was a frequent visitor to my dept (as a guest of lacanian scholar joan copjec), it wasnt philosophy but english, and the ancient academic was the infamous leslie fiedler (“come back to the raft a’gin, huck honey!”). the whole reason i became an english major in college was because when i was a junior in H.S. a teacher mentioned (disparigingly of course) fiedler’s essay about Huck Finn. It blew me away that criticism could be so much fun, and i majored in english. I ended up a doctoral student with an office 3 doors down from Fiedler himself. Little did I realize how much I would hate academia, but that’s a poo of a different color.