The Ladies room is shared by 40 of my closest co-workers, but the men’s room is used by only 2 or 3 men and one teenage boy.

By virtue of it’s under use, the men’s room is the clear winner because while most of the “ladies” manage very nicely to be clean and not gross, some of them? Let’s just say they’re part of the reason why I’d rather sit in boy pee-pee than risk it in the Ladies room.

The first thing that I notice when I go in is the lighting. It’s absolutely atrocious. I always look like a fucking blown out crack whore in that mirror. It’s an imperfection magnifier and I can see every zit, every wrinkle, and ever damn freckle on my face in that mother. There’s also a hand mirror available just in case looking at my face in the wall mirror isn’t enough, I can use it to see if my lady business looks blown out too.

And look at all those smelly lotions and sprays. You’d think people would use them after they’ve had an, ahem, issue?

But no.

Sometimes I walk in there and the joint is rank and I’m tempted to just get on the PA system and say: “Attention library employees. If something is tearing the ass out of you and you’re going to blow it up in the Ladies room, for the love of God woman, USE THE SPRAY so I don’t feel like I’ve just stepped into your rotting colon. Thank you.”

I’m sure the patrons won’t mind one bit because really, it’s a public service announcement.

And usually, when there’s been an issue in there, there’s also a Hershey highway swirly left in the bowl just in case anyone had any doubts as to what just went down.

How could the person not have noticed this and just flushed again? On the very, very, rare occasion that I have an issue at work, I always check.

Don’t you?

For the love of Jesus, it’s just common decency!

And speaking of spraying and smelling, there’s this automatic air freshener thing that goes off at random intervals. So I’m in there and then PSSSSSSSTTTTT!!! It lets out a poof of “air freshner” that smells like shit and Summer Melon (whateverthefuckthatis) and scares the hell out of me and I almost fall off the toilet because I think I’m under attack. Lynne thinks it’s trying to tell her something because it goes off every time she walks in, but I think Candid Camera is behind it somehow. You might think Crissy’s just a wee bit paranoid but you’re laughing, right? Well, so would America.

Just sayin.

Here’s a nice magnet for amoebic dysentery decorative touch.

And in case no one has ever washed her hands before we have this helpful sign to guide us:

Every time I read it I’m tempted to add one they forgot:

And then there’s the people who try to walk in on me when I’m peeing. No one knocks, they just try to bust in. I don’t know about you, but that makes the pee crawl right back up to where it came from and then I can’t go because I have what’s called a “shy bladder.” Or maybe it’s just because I don’t want people coming in and sitting on my lap when I’m trying to go tinkle.

And speaking of people just walking in, I’m afraid of what I might walk in on because the door doesn’t always lock properly. You have to fiddle with the knob a little and there isn’t always time.

Let’s just say I walk in on Edgar (but his real name is Carl. No it isn’t). He’s like 100 feet tall, bald as a bastard and a Republican. He’s our accountant and so we are very nice to him because he prepares our paychecks. I think he’s a nice guy, and he never yells at me for forgetting to do a time sheet which I always do because I don’t need to work for money and it embarrasses me every time they try to pay me, but he’s ok if not a little strange and I figure it must be because he’s really a Transvestite. And I’m scared that one day I’m going to walk into the Ladies room and find him putting on lipstick and sticking tampons in his ass and nobody wants to see that.

Am I right?

So, seriously.

Any one of you would use the men’s room too.

Especially those of you who are men. You don’t know how good you’ve got it boys.

And for the fatty report:

exercise: 30 minutes with Baron Baptiste Core Power Yoga for Abs + 10 minutes scrubbing out baby swimming pool where my arms hurt and I was sweaty so I’m counting it= 40 minutes, Calories 1480, alcohol units,

Oy.