toilet bastards

A-reum da-un saram-eun meomun-jari do areum-dapseumnida.

I see this sticker in the third-floor restroom of my place of work. It was slapped on the wall, at eye level with a person taking a shit. While I'm not exactly sure what a meomun-jari is (a place? a seat? a space of some sort?), I think the gist of that sentence, which dominates the sticker, is, "Beautiful people keep the places/spaces they use beautiful." (Email me with corrections and clarifications, please.)

Would that we all followed such advice. Alas, there are people who go into a toilet stall and piss while standing, splashing their putrid ichor all over the toilet bowl rim, even as far back as the plumbing where the flush handle is located. For those of us needing to give birth in a hurry, it is a literal pain in the ass to have to pause, grab some toilet paper, do what one can to wipe the toilet and surrounding floor down, and then do our evil business.

Yesterday, I sat down after having thoroughly cleaned such a disaster-- a combination of urine and cigarette ash. A few seconds after sitting down, however, I leaned forward to fire out a particularly juicy missile and felt something cold and wet against my back. Reaching behind me, I felt a nasty wet spot on my shirt.

Fuck. In my cleaning, I had missed a rather significant splash.

Curious to see the extent of the damage, I expended the rest of my ammo and went to the row of restroom sinks. I turned myself around and looked into the large mirror, trying to descry how big the wet spot was.

It was about two-thirds the size of my fist, and was sitting at exactly the wrong location: right over my ass crack (yes, I'm a slob who teaches in untucked shirts). It was the sort of punctuation mark that would be instantly misinterpreted by students and colleagues, and I silently cursed the fucker who had preceded me into that cubicle.

The only spot-removing solution I could think of was to go back to my desk, tug my shirt down as far as possible, and let the awesome heat of my immense ass dry the spot. Luckily, I had thirty minutes before the next class, so I was fairly sure that all would be well by the time I had to stand in front of students and use the blackboard.

Toilet bastards.

Fuck all y'all fuckaz who don't clean up after yourselves.


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