A "Bathroom Guy's" Idiot's Guide

By Mink

I have this one friend who loves categorizing everyone in "Guy" categories. What I mean is that if you enjoy movies (even if this interest is shared by 99.9% of the world) he will tell you that you are a "Big Movies Guy." If you read the "Sportsguy," then you are a "Big Sportsguy guy." He classifies in the negative too so that if you are not interested in a certain blonde haired girl he will tell you that you are not a "Big Blonde Guy." (Given my physique and hair color this doesn't really work when he says it to me. But I humor him because technically he is right, I am more of a "Big Dirty Blonde Guy") The point is that under his absurd "Big Guy" categorizing system, I would not be considered a "Big Phone Guy."

I like to call my friends for a quick catch up or just to "ooh and ahh" over another heartbreaking loss by one of my sports' teams, but in general, if I am just chilling on my couch, I'd rather not be on the phone. As such, I prefer to make my phone calls in those moments when I am not purely relaxing. Many times this phone chatting will occur in the car on the way home from work. But most preferably this multi-tasking goes down in a place traditionally reserved for a much different type of discarding of obligations.

You see I am a "Big Bathroom Guy," It may sound cliché but I do my best thinking in the palace. Like anyone else I have read countless newspaper and magazine articles in there but with the creation of wireless I was able to reach new heights. I was now able to send emails, watch baseball games on MLB TV, and even finally figure out what the hell it meant for a bank to be "member FDIC" (they say this at the end of every bank commercial and it annoyed me for years that I was clueless…..thanks again wikipedia.)

Anyway you see where I am going here. I find the atmosphere of the "John" to be suitable for pretty much anything (aside from eating…..My friend Yoni actually does snack in there, but I don't really see a point…It certainly isn't multi-tasking. In fact you are doubling your work). Obviously this also means that it is my venue of choice to dial up a friend, relative, or well anyone.

With this potentially disturbing background in mind, I decided it was time to write out some sort of guide for this type of activity. Most of these are common hurdles that could hinder an otherwise cathartic experience. I have provided some suggested remedies please feel free to add other suggestions and potential blockages (pun intended) that I have not addressed. So here it goes:


An Idiot's Guide to the Bathroom Phone Chat


1. Dealing with the Echo Problem: A common problem for us potty mouths relates to our voice transmission. The other caller will often claim they hear some sort of "echo" and may even ask you candidly "are you shitting with me?" You can deal with this issue in one of 2 ways:

---"The Museum Defense"---I haven't been to a museum in quite a while but I have some of my friend's convinced that I am a bigger museum buff than their retired Aunts. This is just an easy quick retort to the sound effect question. Although it is problematic if you are telling this fib at midnight or if the art gallery, you chose, has well known rules forbidding cell phone usage. If you run into either of these traps just say you are a VIP member with special privileges.

---Surround sound---A simple musical background can drown out the echoish sounds or at least distract the caller, provoking questions such as "Are you really listening to Ashlee Simpson?"

---Keep the door slightly ajar--- (warning: performing this remedy has the danger of infuriating spouses or roommates).


2. The Side Step: If you are male and you are in the midst of a onesie aim a little to the side of the bowl. You don't want them to hear the direct splashing sounds. But in the event that the curious caller does hear you, just tell them you are doing the dishes. Like the museum defense, this is a problem for me because it is just so out of character.

3. Sounds of Silence: If the bathroom visit is of the deuce variety, try to minimize your expressions of relief and jubilation or, at the very least, pretend that you were really just excited about a good play in the game you were watching.

4. Discard your obligations (and your dinner): It is always preferable to use the facilities to speak to that chatterbox friend of yours, who you are obligated to call every once in a while. First, this means you get the obligatory convo out of the way. But make sure to get up an stretch in the middle. Second, it means you can just put them on speaker as they jabber away and you do your thing with an occassional "right on" "sure" or "yessssssss feels so much better........uh never mind what were you saying?"

5. The Bathroom Sunburn:If you are using a wireless laptop and having your convo on Skype:

---BE SURE TO PUT A TOWEL ON YOUR LEGS (I've been burned before and it aint pleasant)
---BE SURE NOT TO ACTIVATE THE WEBCAM FEATURE (unlike above this will not be a hot situation)

6. The Exit: Ok definitely do not flush until you are on the way out. If you aren't finished the convo then either pull a flush-and-run as you exit or just wait till after. Leaving the evidence behind isn't cool so I'd advise this flush-and-run-as -if-you-are-Napolean Dynamite method. If you do get caught here, you can't really assert a "dish washing" type defense. There just is not too much that sounds like a flush. Perhaps if you are a video game buff you could tell them it is the sound of a new type of rocket launcher from your James Bond '07 game and that it just sounds weird because it is Russian.

7. Use Good Judgment: Bathroom phone chatter is not universally viewed as acceptable adultlike behavior (though it should be). For whatever reason, some people get quite offended by the bathroom talk, so be sure to know your audience. Even if you have taken effective precautions, you probably shouldn't risk this activity when speaking to extra sensitive important people in your life (be it a boss or a significant other). It's just not worth it. Ok it definitely is, but you get my point: You speak, you poo, someone could get hurt. ***This message has been brought to you by MAPP: Mother's Against Phone Pooping. My mom is the president.

Tis the Season

By Mink

I know it's almost mid-January but I want to tell you how much I enjoyed this winter holiday season. The annual holiday friendliness is always nice (especially on my visits to NY, where somehow the city's standard rudeness is replaced with an aura of cheeriness), but the thing that stood out about this year in particular has to be the unseasonably warm temperatures on the east coast. (I just can't tell you how many elevator conversations I've had about this topic).

But for some reason former Vice President and current meteorologist, Al Gore, seems to believe that this global warming thing is a full-scale disaster. I have to disagree. 70 degrees in January is just glorious. With apologies to my hypothetical grand-kids, I just can't really get all up in arms for something that may harm us in hundreds of years. For now, my pale-ass will enjoy the sun. (This carefree attitude on the global-warming situation pretty much ensures that my last words will feature a variation of "I'm melting.")

With that I will share a few anecdotes and thoughts from my winter break:

I had the pleasure of visiting Los Angeles a couple weeks ago. Now the trip was a blast and highlighted by an Israeli-rave (though I fell asleep due to my jet-lag), a B-list celeb sighting (the older bro from malcolm in the middle), and a trip to Venice Beach (the only jurisdiction in the U.S. where herb smoking is legal. Honestly I have never seen such public smoking, but maybe I am sheltered). The more noteworthy part of the journey, however, was the travel itself. On the way there, I was forced to go stand-by after my first flight to Denver was cancelled due to a blizzard (apparently global warming isn't so global). I ended up sleeping on a bench in Dulles Airport and entertaining myself as I asked airline employees how I could get to Krakozhia.

It turns out that life as a stand-by traveler isn't exactly fun, although by the end of the journey we sort of formed a fraternity of stranded travelers. My favorite activity was rooting for the confirmed travelers to miss their flights, which would obviously open up spots for us. Poor Mrs. Jenkins was standing around the gift shop and didn't hear the final boarding call. When the 60-something-year-old lady in a hot pink jumpsuit finally emerged, she was told that her seat had been given away. The stand-by contingency thereby erupted into a smattering of chants to the tune of "Back of the line, Ms. Jenkins!" I felt kind of bad, but I certainly was leading the chants.

By the end of the trip we hugged mothers, girlfriends and siblings of other stand-byers on our way out of LAX airport. We even planned a 5 year reunion. The whole 19 hour experience seemed like some kind of bizarre reality TV show experience, and I would rank it up there in my top ten worst bodily odor moments. (this could be a future posting if I could remember the other nine).

Following the eventful trip to Cali and a long New Year's weekend of absurdity in NY, I returned to MD, and immediately got into an altercation with a homeless man. Beggars apparently can be choosers. (What the hell is a chooser anyway? Do we ever use that term other than this context? I mean you just never hear: "Zev, are you seriously going to dump this girl just because she insists that at all times you refer to her as 'pumpkin'? Man, you are such a chooser!") The point is a homeless man in downtown Baltimore refused my bagel offer. Granted, it was one of my roommates' gross and overly healthy whole-wheat ones, but it was in a sealed Ziploc and was actually pretty fresh.

Of course his refusal caused quite a scene as a random woman witnessing the event jumped in and started yelling at the "chooser" for declining the carbo snack. The event capped off a rough week between the poor man and myself. Just a few days prior to the bagel incident, the dude also chose to drop his blanket, roll over to his side, pull out his member and urinate inches from my leg as I walked to work.

I am a CHILD

by singerz

It is not rare that I will hear the statement, “Zev, you are such a child.” Usually, I take this as a compliment. I’m youthful. I’m energetic. I have soft skin like a baby’s ass. But I have recently started to realize that sometimes, (gasp), most of the time; this is NOT meant as a compliment. It is a dig at my maturity.

Well Mr. I’m-So-Serious-I-Don’t-Laugh-At-Poop-Jokes-And-I-Carry-An-Attache-Case-Even-When-I-Go-To-The-Beach, you have to relax. (Don’t you LOVE saying the word “attache-case”? I do. I really do.) As Frank (who won 4 Jeopardy episodes in a row), answered to a Jeopardy clue about the Bible, there is a time to laugh, a time to cry, blah blah blah. And then Alex didn’t give him credit because he didn’t ask it in question form. Alex is a dick. He doesn’t know as much as he pretends and those fake accents make me want to vomit in his mustache. Actually, I once did…na I’ll leave that crazy-ass story for another time.

And so, here are just a few examples that should prove to you that I am still a child:

-Someone recently said to me: “Awwww, you look SO grown up in that suit!“

-I always like the kids table better. French fries, fish sticks, apple juice and no adults.

-I hate dry wine.

-Whenever anyone offers to set me up on a blind date, I make the joke: “If she’s blind, how will she know where to meet me?”

-As my roommate once explained, I regularly eat as if my parents are away for the weekend. Sugar cereal, soda, devil dogs, licorice…But at least I eat salad: pickles.

-When my friend who I share this blog with comes to visit as he did this past new years weekend, we are more excited to lay in bed next to each other having ‘pillow talk’ then we are to go out and meet girls (actually, that’s more gay than it is childish, but let me have that one, will ya?)