I’ve been told that Kevin Smith was paid over half a million dollars for a week’s worth of writing on Coyote Ugly, and that his contribution wasn’t included in the final draft of the script. That’s the sort of thing that makes me want to take the Nestea plunge off of the Mississippi River Bridge.
It certainly makes you glad you went to college, doesn’t it?
Instead of seeing if I can build up enough momentum in my car to crash through the chainlink fencing on the side of the bridge, I take solace in the loo. It’s meditation, I suppose; you can find out a lot about yourself and the world in those ten (or in lieu’s case, sixty) minutes of daily solitude. The voice in the back of your head usually drowned out by the orgy of stupidity in the world, the pleasure of a newspaper or magazine tucked into an armpit, the consequences of a trip to White Castle and for those who fight the eternal struggle … and perhaps even the true nature of existence and the almighty Lord himself.
Times like that bring to mind the halcyon days as a young lad when I would boldly state that WHEN I GROW UP I’LL STAY UP AS LATE AS I WANT. Little did I know that what I’d want was to get more sleep, or some peace and quiet. Retreating to the loo has become my method of cloistering myself. Quality introspection.
And hey, three thousand posts. That’s something to ponder in the second stall from the left, straight on 'til morning.
This is why the Japanese have those amazing toilets with seat warmers, sanitary sprays, and assorted techno-doohickies built in. They know that one’s mind turns inwards while one’s inwards head outwards.
If that makes any sense to any of you, I’ll be surprised. But it sounded kinda poetic when I thought of it.
kewl. I once stayed at the Dupont Hotel in Wilmington, DE for a business meeting and the group (more accustomed to the likes of Marriott Courtyards) was all impressed over the telephones in the bathrooms. That’s what I call high class.
Well, my rage has quieted down, imthjckz, settling into a nice peaceful hell in a handbasket. That, and I realized the sublime joy of finding the sports section in the bathroom already. Truly, I say unto you, that there is no greater pleasure on earth or in heaven above than to read of preseason injuries to other NFL teams while engaged in the most base yet most exhilirating experience known to us.
I used to wonder how my father could spend half an hour in the bathroom.
Then I got married and had a child. I came to understand the wisdom of the bathroom - the one place I’m allowed to be by myself in peace and quiet for a few precious minutes.
Even if the production database has crashed and flames are shooting from the server room, you’re safe in the loo. Who’s gonna bother the guy on the crapper - after all, what can you do from there?
lieu, I suspect the only reason you’re still with us is that you did not have an open flame present during your recent whiplash incident. Careful about wishing for a match in there.
Our house has phone jacks on the walls in both bathrooms. It was originally built by a contractor for himself. Apparently he didn’t want to miss out on any calls for jobs whilst doing a job himself.
The very first job I got out of college featured a boss who resided in another office. If she called and wanted to talk to you, she wanted to talk to you now, not in 5 minutes. So if you were in the crapper she’d make someone else in the office come get you. I know this has to be a major reason why the turnover in that dump was so high. I lasted about 7 months.
Aint my bathroom. That room is the family meeting room. Half the time I have the Bear, who is 7, sitting on my lap hugging me and telling me about his day… or what Pokemon he just captured. Or the hubby is in there yakking at me about something…and beware of walking in there in the dark. Apparently the floor is cooler in there and there is a line of overheated, exhausted cats running from the door to the tub.
My hubby yells I"I HAVE A BOOK!" and we all go use the loo first… scared the piss out of me once: he let out a blodcurdling scream, I was sure he was seriously injured! Nope, his feet had gone to sleep and he stood up!:eek:
Now that my Shih Tzu is losing her sight I have to go turn on the light for her so she can find the water dish…
Harry Turtledove mentions that when Teddy Roosevelt had the ranch in Montana, he had a carriage which he referred to as the Handbasket, because he used it for going to Helena.
Even if totally apocryphal, this story deserves retelling – if it’s not true, it ought to be.
