Craptacular

Modern science needs to come up with more effective shit-sucking technologies.

Sure, you always have to take a nanosecond or two to prepare for stank when entering a mens room (women, of course, don't have this problem, since women don't shit or burp or eat steak or quarter pounders). Knowing that a wave of foulness is about to hit helps to dull the blow somewhat. But some days...

Really, though, what makes two sane and rational people carry on a conversation through stall doors?

One was actually outside the stall today, discussing Gal*Mart defense pricing strategy in the Albany market with his cohort...who was TAKING A CRAP at the time. Simple litmus test, people: would you do it at home? "Man, this is a great game! Hey, let's discuss the infield fly rule in my bathroom while I take a dump!" Would you do it then? Would you invite a complete stranger in to piss in your shower while you casually shit and discuss the retun on your mutual fund with your buddy? No? Didn't think so.

Shit.

The weekend approaches, and I have no plans, and I'll probably get nothing done. And this bothers me. I must become more proactive. I don't have time to be tired and piss off, not when all I have in life is this goddamn moment right now. Yet I also have no money and no drive after a balls-out week at work and commute and a lot of reading to catch up on, and it's going to rain. It's a racket, this life is, and fuck if I know how to game it.

That said, I do know that I'm going to keep the door to the bath closed. The best arias are, after all, performed solo...