To Whom It May Concern,
If you happen to be the person who used the ladies room right before me at Burger King today, then let me just say I understand a woman’s need for the occassional good-natured game of “Hit-or-Miss”.” However, the object of the game is to actually “HIT” the bowl, and not the “Miss” part of the equation. (Because when you “miss,” we ALL lose!)
Let me also state that I spent years working in some shady-ass bars where the game was not only played more often than darts, but it was played under the influence of enough alcohol to make men with three teeth, beer bellies like Good-Years, and distinct lack of butts look attractive. Suffice it to say I’ve seen some pretty gnarly looking crappers in my time. But this morning (10:30 AM to be precise, so I truly HOPE there was no alcohol involved) REALLY took the cake!
Here’s the thing, we women are all built pretty similar to each other and, last time I checked, we’re built to pee-pee sitting down. If circumstances are dire and we are forced to “make water” from an up-right position, we do so from the standard “standing-squat.” (That’s just common sense and courtesy, right?) Even though my hubby and sons have all offered me their “expert” explanations as to why guys can’t seem to aim for shit, NONE of these reasons apply to women. (i.e. morning wood, foreskin or zipper interference)
So, with all these facts in mind, I am forced to assume you must be suffering from an actual medical problem. There’s no other explanation for why that stall (the only stall) looked like it had been the victim of a hit-and-run fire extinguisher! Or perhaps it was more along the lines of a high-powered pressure hose strung through the ceiling tiles. Either way, it was not only completely uncalled for, but without a doubt one of the more disgusting scenes of potty-trauma I’ve ever been unfortunate enough to witness. (And that my friend, says a lot!)
In the hours since then, I have tried to find a scenario which would have allowed for the commode carnage I witnessed, so as to make peace with your nameless face. (Yes, as a matter of fact, I DID see you leaving as I entered!) But all I can really come up with is perhaps the “safety doors” on your Mommy-chute were out of alignment or in need of a slight medical “tuck.” Or perhaps you’re suffering from the Hank Hill affliction, a narrow urethra that bottle-necks the flow at the last possible moment, creating the sprinkler-effect.
Whatever the cause, I have to believe it’s physiological and not just rudeness. This belief is vital to my continued faith in the human race. You may think this sounds a bit mellow-dramatic, but if we begin regressing in our ability to use an inside potty like civilized humans, what’s next? (After all, I know from watching music videos we’re already devolving out of wearing clothes to cover our more “interesting” parts.)
So please…next time you’re forced to play “the game” and find yourself more in the “miss” column, take a moment and clean up your own damned mess! You never know, you just might be restoring someone’s faith in humanity. Or at the very least, keeping them from chasing you down to offer you the name of their OBGYN!
Fellow public potty user and crusader for wee-free potty seats everywhere!