Something to Believe In

In this post I will continue to explore candidates for my second attempt at faith. Please note that I used a post EGAE picture of Goldblum only because I have a general sense of him being from outer space.

Fictional TV Characters - This idea sounds futile at first. Why believe in something that you are 95% sure isn't real? However, there are many benefits to exalting the pantheon of television personalities. They are always there. Any time of day I am feeling down or lost, I can grab my remote and find Dr. Jason Seaver urging me to show him that smile again, and I know that Ross Gellar will always be there for me.They are also excellent as sources of advice and role models. I can't imagine how the dire straits my love life would be in if not for the brilliant tutelage of Sam Malone. And I would still feel weird wearing a short sleeve shirt with a tie if not for Detective Sipowicz. Best of all, when I get tired of one I can always change the channel.

Dragons - Powerful. Awe-inspiring. Majestic. Such words can be used to describe the beasts known as dragons. They horde a vast amount of treasures, can melt your whole neck and body with their breath and have I've seen one kill Matthew McCounaghneaghey. Unfortunately, aside from the potential of the most cool ass stained glass window you could ever imagine, I don't foresee any personal benefit to Dragon worship currently, , because I am 85% sure they don't exist.

Food - I am considering food as per the suggestion of Jay. Food is off to a good start because I know for a fact that it is real (it's true. Check wikipedia), and it gives me good feelings. There are countless types of food though, many of which I don't like, so perhaps it would be pragmatic to think of food as a polytheistic religion, with the Zeus slot obviously being filled by Chicken Parm Heroes. My main problem with worshiping food is that I am constantly lusting after it, and the way I eat is practically a deviant sexual act. Although this isn't much of a problem if I am going with a Greek model. Not bad.

Genitalia - A source of inspiration and motivation. A cause of great pleasure, but also terrible shame and guilt. I see it so infrequently that I some times think it does not exist. Sounds about right to me.

This is tough.

Civil Rights Hero

There are moments in time where fate unexpectedly calls upon a person to step up for the greater good. History may call their name by pure chance or coincidence, but they recognize society needs them to take action. I I am experiencing such a moment now. This is how history begins.

Like many people, I go through periods of time where I do not have much concern for my health or weight. I call these periods "normal." There are occasions, usually when I sniff out a chance someone may see me in the naked, where I decide that it is my waistline that is making my shirt stick out so much on the sides, and not that "it's just the style these days." Menswear companies will never decide that next season all the stylish men will want to look like over ripe pears.

I had such an epiphany several months ago and began to exercise more and eat better. Now, the list of foods I eat is short and has about as much nutritional value as a sack full of rubber bands, so for me, eating better means eating less and trying to find anything halfway decent to substitute for my usual meals of shaped lard and several small piles of sugar. This lead me to the item known as the bar. Some are called energy bars. Some are called meal bars. Everybody knows good ol' granola bars. All bars, and all of them containing fewer calories than my normal junk.

My genius plan? Have one of these in lieu of a normal lunch every day that I am at work, since that was probably my most damaging meal due to the ease at which one can obtain fantastic tasting garbage in Manhattan. Not exactly the most sound dietary practice, but combined with some exercise and a bit of self control, it worked quite well.

You may be wondering what this has to do with me becoming the figurehead for a social revolution. You see, it came to my attention yesterday, after months of eating these bars, that my particular bar of choice, the Luna Bar, is in fact a nutrition bar for women. I made this discovery when I looked on the package and hidden on the front of it under the word "Luna" I saw "The Whole Nutrition bar for Women."

I was appalled at first. I felt violated as a result of such devious packaging design. For I moment I also felt the kind of confusion set in that I usually only experience after I have one of those dreams where I am playing touch football with a shirtless Tom Wopat. But I fought that off. This was not my fault! Nothing about this bar would give me any clue that it was a bar for women, aside from it saying it on the front of the package. And what kind of sexist nonsense is this anyway? Why is it only for women? I enjoy their White Chocolate bar quite a bit, and judging by the feeble protrusion from my groin I am 85% sure I am a man! Why isn't it a nutrtion bar for everyone?

This is when I got to thinking, which people usually tell me is a bad thing, but you can get the hell out of my way now! There are many products out there that are sexist towards men, and I am not going to sit down for it any more. No one bats an eye if a girl uses a regular old razor, but the second I use some purple razor to shave my legs for a photoshoot, people give me all kinds of crap. Maybe I would like some extra padding and support in my shoulder region. And what exactly are you trying to hide Secret? Is it that this PH balance mumbo jumbo is sexist propaganda? I'm done with it all! I may even start using tampons just to prove a point.

So there it is. I'm a regular Susan B. Manthony. Remember this moment, for future generations will.

How I Became Grossly Overweight

I have a terrible new hobby.

Baking,

I was browsing the internet at work and came upon a book that piqued my interest. That book is Ratio: The Simple Codes Behind the Craft of Everyday Cooking, by Michael Ruhlman. Now you might think it is odd for me to be interested in any kind of cooking, since I really only enjoy meat, pasta, candy and any combination of those three things, especially if you melt mozzerella cheese on top of it.

While the idea behind the book is interesting for sure (learning the basic formulas of food and then experiment and expand on them with no need for recipes), what stopped me in my web surfing tracks was this.

A sweet ass Bread Wheel!

Countless times I, and many other philosophers, have wondered what exactly the difference between pancake batter and crepe batter is. What makes muffins sort of cake, but not really? Now the mystery is solved. My mind was blown when I saw that all that seperates a Fritter from a Popover is one extra part of flour. This is real life magic.

After obtaining the book, I did what I do with any instructional material. I skimmed through half of it and then went of half-cocked and attempted to create something.

Cookies were picked as my starting point. For the past three weekends I have made them. I started of baking with the very basic ration in the book which is 1 Sugar, 2 Fat, 3 Flour. This cookie is on the crunchy side and obviously doesn't have much in the way of interesting taste, but hey, it was an actual cookie, and I didn't chip a tooth or give birth to a colony of intelligent parasites in my gut.

With the attempts that followed I experimented with the ingredients and ratio of each. My goal was to figure out how to make a cookie that was chewy, and this weekend I achieved it! Go me.

Now the question is, what kind junk do I want to throw in there. I did the whole chocolate/peanut butter chip thing. It seems odd that I've spent large portions of my week conjuring up different flavor ideas in my head when normally I would looking at strange women and wondering what they'd look like nude and in my house.

I've mainly just been thinking about what are in my cabinets and then combining them together. This has led me to amazing flavors such as maple syrup/cashew and Cap'n Crunch/bourbon. I have also decided at some point I would like to make scotch and sodabread, but that is much farther down the road of my doughy journey.

I would also like some help in switching my wardrobe over to mostly items with an elastic wasitband. What cookies do you like that I should eat? What never before seen cookies from myth and fantasy would you like to see made?

Goose Egg

After a disappointing journey across the globe attempting to have sex with all of the people I am allowed to, I have returned with an 0 fer. I came relatively close to intercourse a time or two. Once when I watched Kevin Bacon fuck in a hammock for 2 and a half hours. Also, Betty White taught me what an "Macedonian Tongue Shovel" is. I learned by doing.

Now that my quest is abandoned I am free to enjoy the rest of the summer in the usual fashion. This includes deluding myself into thinking I will actually go to the beach and take off my shirt and cutting 65 percent of the legs off of my jeans.

I also plan to spend much time strolling around neighborhoods with a boombox on my shoulder that is blasting the ice cream truck music. When the children run outside, I will laugh at their disappointed faces. Then I shall ease on down the road.

A List of People I Can Have Sex With

The following list has been submitted by my girlfriend in response to my previous post:

(Links instead of pictures because they don't get me frustrated to the point of pissing blood)

Betty White

Dita Von Teese

Dolly Parton

Chuck Bass

Rebbie, Jackie, Tito, Jermaine or Marlon Jackson 

Cate Blanchett 

Jennifer Aniston if you promised not to break her heart

Alanis Morrisette

Kevin Bacon

Lynne Spears

Any of the Real Housewives of New York, except the countess (Find it yourselves.)

And any of the people on my list, except for Padma Lakshmi

After reviewing this submission I have decided to consider it as a "To Do List."

Cate Blanchett better watch her white ass because I am comin' for it.

7 People My Girlfriend Can Have Sex With

Intercourse with any of the following people will not result in our relationship ending, provided she doesn't leave me for them.

1. Any openly gay celebrity

2. Anderson Cooper

3. Rusty Staub

4. Padma Lakshmi

5. Henrik Lundqvist

6. Ron from The Biggest Loser

7. Famous Amos

I may start a list of the people i would least want her to pork. The number one spot would definitely be held by Ed begley Jr. due to his massive cock. I'll update you as it forms.

If you have an question regarding the reasons for including any of these people on my list, please feel free to ask.

If You Would Be So Kind

To name three people you find interesting, something you consider to be valuable and a terrible problem.

Thank you!

Where the hell am I?

I don't have the foggiest.

That is to say, I am physically still in the same exact place I was 2 months ago when I was semi-regularly dropping a steaming pile onto this thing called a blog. Mentally it seems this is not the case. 

There have been plenty of occassions since my previous entry where I have thought of or blurted out something I thought would be worth typing out for 6 other people to enjoy and get a laugh out of, but I fail to make note of them and they quickly fade from my brain as they are replaced by masturbatory fantasies involving members of the WPIX Morning News Team. Oh Tiffany McElroy, you always keep me up between 5 and 6 AM.

So yeah, it has been difficult to find the elusive combination of motivation and material that fuels me to stop playing browser games at my desk for an hour. In the past it may have manifested itself as the tag team of my never-ending lust for attention and a story of how I ruined a chance at having sex by sucking on a girl's nipple for 10 minutes too long. Currently I only seem to have one or the other. I may feel the unrelenting need for approval from strangers overtake me, but I lack a subject. On another day I may encounter a strange subway derelict who seems to get his jollies by farting on the bare legs of other passengers, but at the same time have coma-like brain patterns. I got no chemistry.

My girlfriend has been very encouraging in trying to get me to post more often, and I appreciate that very much. However she refuses to allow me to start dating which I believe would definitely bring me a wealth of self-embarrassment that i would gleefully share with all y'all. Actually she said I could start dating as long as she could also. I refused this offer based on it's obvious high levels of unfairness. If I go on a date I will wind up wearing pants with a hole in the crotch or casually mention how I used to show my dick on the internet all the time back in the day. If my girlfriend were to go on a date she would probably meet someone very mature who doesn't find everlasting discomfort from tucking in a shirt and will unhook her bra quickly and without self-congratulatory cheering.

That's all I got.

Isn't it Romancive?

At the suggestion of Diane, who I will from now on assume has the last name Chambers, I will lay out my plan for Valentines Day. She, for some reason, assumed I will need assistance with it. I doubt this very much.

Before the day of Valentines even begins, some preparation must be done. This will mainly take the form of a full Friday night worth of personal private region grooming and upkeep. For what better way to show you care than to present your genitalia to her all streamlined and slick. No I will not consider any kind of pubic topiary as it has caused me to be dumped multiple times.

I have rented a hotel room for the evening in bustling Manhattan where love flourishes amongst the towers of concrete and might. This is always a solid move for Valentine's Day because a lady feels very special when you mount her in a foreign setting.  For any of you who would still like to do this for your lady, I suggest you expand your search to hotels with shared bathrooms, for their deals can not be beat, and your girlfriend will appreciate your thoughtfulness during our economic crisis.

Now of course, before we get to the hotel room, we must engage in other activities to help set the mood for romance. I figured it never hurts to go with the old classics, so I will be taking my lady friend to dinner and a show. I will tell her to meet me at the restaurant at 6 PM sharp on Saturday night. The restaurant is a personal favorite of mine, and I will dine on my preferred dish there, a huge chicken parmigiana hero. I think they have salads there, so she can have that. I would do this normally, but that night I will definitely make a point to be a gentleman and carry her tray to our table for her.

After eating at this place we will probably be stuffed to the gills, so going to a theater and being able to sit down will be muy beneficial. There  are a large number of shows out right now, so it is difficult to pick which one is the best to take my girlfriend to on this most special of evenings. I am honestly still undecided, but I will admit to leaning towards Paul Blart: Mall Cop because Taken may be a bit too depressing for Valentine's Day.

After the movie we will hopefully be in good spirits and make our way back to our hotel room. I plan on surprising her with a bouquet of flowers in the room, and possibly an array of colorful cupcakes which I will of course offer to feed her as she lays in bed. This is when I will bring out her Valentine's Day gift.

My girlfriend has been talking about wanting  a puppy for almost an entire friggin year now. I'm pretty sure if she gets one, she will love it more than me, but I am OK with that because it just takes some of the pressure off me. Unfortunately, due to our schedules, neither of us have enough free time these days that you would need to devote to a new dog.  So in lieu of a puppy I decided to purchase my girlfriend a puppy shirt instead. It is a lovely shade of pink and there is an adorable drawing of a golden retriever puppy ironed on to the front of it. There is also a sparkly flower.

Our evening will end with vigorous lovemaking which, thanks to my man-kegels I've recently started during my commute, will end in time to lay in bed, watch SNL and discuss how shitty it is these days.

I hope she doesn't read this and ruin the surprise.

An Inspirational Message

For all the ladies braving Valentines Day without a man...

Courtesy of time-displaced vandals near my office.

And this other time...

I met an overweight homeless man.

I was skipping along the sidewalk on my way to purchase a tasty lunch of soup AND sandwich, when  an enormous mass came into my field of vision.

It was a human man. 

He sat on the ground with his back against the display window of a discount hat store called "Edgar Allen Chapeau," but all that adorned his head was a tattered crown of sadness, which in most parts of the country is called a Chicago Cubs hat. The gentleman also had on a filth encrusted, yet forever stylish, t-shirt and sweatpants combo that was stretched beyond any conceivable tension  limits. On this day I learned that fabric can feel pain.

Pedestrian's gazes turned from the grown man who had moments ago been skipping down the street to this spherical vagrant who was changing the flow of foot traffic. Never in my life have I seen such a large domicile-impaired individual. I wanted to inspect him visually, so I could make a solid guesstimate on his weight, but as I made my way to the opposite side, I became winded and gave up. 

The man seemed to be completely unconscious. He just sat there motionless, like a massive bean bag that hadcome into some tough times. Just as I was about to leave after a good 15 minutes of observing, his once restful eyes exploded open.

Startled, I and the others jumped back.  Our startlization levels intensified even further when the homeless fellow  sprang to his feet with the agility of  a Lynx pouncing on a snow hare. We took another step back and were almost sent backpedaling into traffic with what happened next.

He looked around wide-eyed and confused as if he had no idea where he was. Then his mouth opened and words sprang forth. Words mortal men are not used to hearing.

"NO! THE ROOTS ARE GONE! IT'S ALL COMING DOWN! MAKE FOR THE RIVER"'

The words blasted out of him with such force and conviction, that when he turned turned the corner and bolted towards the Hudson, no less than four people were following. I have never seen any of them again in my travels.

With my composure regained, I returned to thoughts of my sandwich, and skipped on.

Poetry in Motion?

My Tits Shake When I Brush My Teeth

Jiggle Jiggle Jiggle

Definitely not Jam

Hidden shame of Dental Care

Bad breath or Self- Hate

Diet and Push Ups?

T-shirts and Avoidance

Name that Buffoon

I am in the market for a new nickname.  I don't currently have one, unless you consider "Oh my God you are dumb" a nickname. 

So I am asking for some help. What nickname should I adopt? 

It can not be any of the following, as they have already been used:

Ry, Ry Ry, Rye Bread, Rye Toast, Breadman, Toastman, Toastmaster General, Beanie Boy, Mr. D, Ryceratops, Rylenol, Ryranosaurus Rex, Ryacin, Ryboflavin, Ryclops, Rypet Pupkin, Rychard Simmons, Rydiculous, The Rude Dog, The Schnauzer Whisperer, The Anchor, The Defensive Window, The White Nick Nolte, The Pride of San Juan, Lady Fingers, Listerine, Doofy, Chief Junior, Light Bulb Head, Beverly Landau, Thurston Howell  IV and Baby Nips.

It must be cool or extremely lame. I thank you ahead of time for your help.

What kind of Afterlife is this?

Let's assume when we die, we turn into a ghost. If we have lived a decent life, a giant beam of life hits us from above , and we can float off to a better place, or we can hang around and solve our own murder cases. You know, like that movie where Patrick Swayze was a ghost. I forget the name of it. No one better leave a comment saying the name of the movie is "Any Day Now." 

Anyway, if we believe all this to be what happens when we die then there is a scientific hypothesis we can make that must be absolutely true.

Ghosts can not masturbate.

It's widely accepted that the best thing about being a ghost is seeing people naked that you never could when you were alive. At first this seems like a brilliant thing to hang around for, but let's face it, after 4 or 5 years of naked, it would start to get old.

Now if you could experience this forbidden nudity while retaining the self pleasuring skills you had while living, there would really be no reason to follow that light into heaven. In fact if jerking off was possible in the astral plane Heaven would be a place on Earth, which would make Belinda Carlisle some kind of Nostradamus like figure.

There would be a very small crowd in Heaven and the people who were there would walk around wondering when everyone else is going to show up, much like the time I went to that Air Supply reunion concert. Then when word got out on the shenanigans happening on Earth, they would all feel like idiots and wish they had stayed home and masturbated all over the place, much like the time I went to that Air Supply reunion concert.

The point is, the whole afterlife system would fall apart if ghosts could jerk off, not to mention the overcrowding that would be going on in the bedroom of my 7th grade Social Studies teacher. It would be a disturbing world drenched in shame and ectoplasm. The universe would be thrown into chaos.

So you can stop wondering now. Enjoy it while you can. 

Amateur German Couple Fucks in Office

I was sitting at my desk today playing tower defense games like usual, when my ears took notice of some unpleasant words coming from down the hall.

"Let's get Ryan to do this."

Instinctively my body shuddered, and I released a grunt of disgust that could apparently be heard down the hallway. Laughing, one of my co-workers came over to me and said they had a new project for me to work on.  Luckily, it was not actual work.

I have the unenviable position in my office of "The guy that knows something about computers." I am not a computer expert by any means, but the knowledge that I do have makes most other people in my office seem like a bunch of baboons rubbing their slick red hindquarters over their keyboards. Gross! This knowledge includes: how to change a desktop wallpaper, where a file went after it was downloaded, how to get open "one of these youtubes my cousin sent me,"and that turning something off and then on again fixes most problems even if I have no clue what's wrong.

As a result of my superior technological saavy, I was asked to figure out how we can all watch the Inaguration of Barak Obama next week. This didn't take very long as we have laptops, a wireless connection and a projector. I decide to do a nice test run and make sure everything works and runs smoothly.

I bring all the necessary equipment into the conference room with the assistance of my work chef and novice stalker, Pancakes. The laptop goes on, the wireless seems to work, the projector throws it up onto the wall and my job appears to be just about done. I head on over to CNN's website and pull up a live feed of Hillary saying goodbye to the Senate.  The connection works well for a few seconds, but then begins to freeze.

Pancakes tells me he will test it out on another site. As he steps to the computer he tells me to go keep a lookout. Being the dullard I am, I don't realize what is going on until I see the giant words YOU PORN  plastered up across the conference room wall.

Before my brain can stop spinning, Pancakes has pulled up a video of young german couple engaging in intercourse. Now maybe some of you filthy degenerates have watched porn at work before, but I doubt you have experienced it on such a large scale. It is a bit overhwelming to see gonads swinging around on that scale. My head turned down the hallway, and then back to the giant penis and vagina on the screen and then back down the hallway again where it remained for a good 10 seconds beofre Pancakes yelled "He's putting it in her coolie!" 

The disgust I was feeling at this point was really only due to a middle aged man using the word "coolie." I don't even know if I am spelling that right. The last time I heard it I didn't know how to spell. He turned it off after a few more seconds and said "See? everything works fine."

My soul hurts.

Invention : The Hamlin Scale

If there is one thing I enjoy, it's getting so sick of something that I vomit . Then afterwards I pick through the half chewed bits and create something new and magical.

There are only a few ways we humons have to quantify our like, or dislike, of things. There are those who use stars, and other may use thumbs.  Early man used a series of grunts ranging from "Ugh" to "Unf." Once numbers were invented, we came up with the most common system of rating we have, the assigning of numbers between 1 and 10. For example, "This was a nice phone call. I give it a 7," and "You didn't confuse my thighs with my vagina this time, so you eked out a 4."

It is time to abandon this old stand by and make the evolutionary leap to something more flexible and modern.

Enter The Hamlin Scale.

With the current old fogey way of doing things, one would say, "On a scale of  1 to 10, how good does this frock look on me?" 1  being completely atrocious and 10 being frocking amazing. 

Now, with my new system we will say "How was the roast pork on a scale of 1 - Harry Hamlin?" 1 of course being complete fail pork, and Harry Hamlin being the most delectable thing I have ever tasted.

Simple enough so far, yes?  Now, the real beauty of the Hamlin Scale, aside from Harry Hamlin,  is the flexibility and personalization it allows. For in between the two extremes of the scale are a number of possible values determined only by how extensive your knowledge of random celebrities is.  Confused? Me too. So here a few examples.

If someone were to ask me to rate chicken parmigiana on a scale of 1 - Harry Hamlin, I would say that it is a Tom Berenger because chicken parm is fucking delicious, but nothing is a Harry Hamlin.  And if you inquired how my first season of little league went, I would tell you that it was an unfortunate C.Thomas Howell, for I got zero hits and peed my pants 3 times.

I will now share with you a condensed Hamlin Scale in descending order. Condensed because I don't think anyone would read the 5 pages of names I came up with while thinking about this project. I have included links in the likely event of, "Who the fuck?"

Harry Hamlin

Markie Post

Tom Berenger

Patrick Duffy

Beverly D'Angelo

Dwight Gooden

Shannon Tweed

Tito Puente

Michael Ironsides

Kerri Green

Reginald VelJohnson

Bob Eubanks

Meshach Taylor

Joe E. Tata

Richard Crenna

Diedrich Bader

Bel Biv Devoe

Hal Holbrook

Corey Hart

Joan Van Ark

Al B. Sure

Chester A. Arthur

Elayne Boosler

Antonio Sabato Jr.

Donatello (the Ninja Turtle)

Lori Petty

Eric Lindros

Kurt Loder

C. Thomas Howell

1

I'd be surprised if someone knew all of these people without looking them up, but if you happened to have such amazing knowledge go seek some fucking mental help.

Whittling down my list to these 30 levels of rating goodness was difficult. Consider it a base for you to add in, or remove, any names you feel can quantify your level of like. You can take them all out and put in fictional characters or types of sandwiches for all I care, but there must remain a 1 and there must remain a Harry Hamlin, two universal truths that can not be denied. Spread the word. Tell your friends. The time of the Hamlin Scale has begun. 

If you are kind enough to leave a comment, feel free to debate any placing on the scale and suggest a name that should be included, and what position it should appear. 

I need a hobby.

Why Do I have a Mirror Anyway?

The other day I was parading around in a state of moderate naked as I am known to do from time to time, when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Now, I haven't ever considered myself what scientists refer to as "physically attractive," but ho-lee fuck! This experience has given me  some helpful knowledge as well as a smattering of PTSD. I will now share to show how much I care.

There is nothing more ridiculous looking than a grown man wearing only a t-shirt.

Picture it right now. I will wait.

...

...

...

...

See what I mean? 

It doesn't even matter how in shape your physical form is. You can have a chronic need for scotch tape because you are so fucking ripped, but if you are wearing a t-shirt and no pants you will always look like a 3 year old searching for his mother to brag about using the potty by himself.

Socks probably make it worse. 

Things get flipped turned upside down when this situation is applied to women. Pants are the enemy in this case.

This was lame, but I had to write it so I wasn't the only one thinking about bottomless men. You're welcome Diane.

PSA

There was a girl who I had a a full on sexual adult relationship with some time ago. One time, during a particularly raunchy encounter, this girl cleared her breathing passage and asked me to give her what she called a "Corbin Bernsen." 

Being the eager to please, young go-getter I was, I naturally complied, but I fully regret taking part in such a heinous act. It damaged my soul. I advise you to not make the same mistake I did.

This doesn't look like North Haverbrook

I apologize for the foul nature of this post.

2009 is off to a rip roaring start. Work has turned back to actual work instead of the oddly furnished lounge it had been the last last 3 weeks or so. You can imagine my excitement.

A scant few minutes ago I got a call of nature and got up from my desk and made my way to the lavatory. it is usual for me to pass water around this time due to the one and a half liters of grape soda I enjoy as part of my balanced  breakfast.  I turn the corner and begin to pass through the doorway of the john when I run into a wall of horror.

I may have mentioned this before, but I avoid taking a dump at work like I avoid ex-girlfriend's facebook profiles. Many people in my office do not share this quality though. And one of these many people decided that today was a day to smear their shit all over the toilet. Someone who seemed to be on a strict diet of mushy peas and paste.

It's not as if it some inconsiderate bastard Jackson Pollocked the inside of the bowl and failed to clean it up with a handy toilet brush. Oh no. The seat was up and there was human dung all over the rim of said toilet. It honestly looked like some maniac had sat his buttcrack down on the rim on the toilet and then slide along it like some kind of Ass Monorail.

Naturally I turned around and ran down the hallway to make it back to my desk fast enough that no one would think I had time to commit what I can only describe right now as an act of terrorism. I will update as events unfold.

I can't believe you made it to the end of this.