01 September 2011

Ode to The Handicapped Stall

Every time I walk into the bathroom at work and see that the handicapped stall is open, it's like I hit the lottery. Well not really, except for the feeling I'm about to shit my pants. But still a nice little treat when you're looking to burn the clock on a slow day. So much freedom! The extra four feet of space between you and the person next to you makes a world of difference. You don't feel like you're shitting as a team, and you don't see the person's face next to you when you look down and see their work ID badge is hanging on their belt loop. Looking right back at you with that smugly grin. Nope none of that. Hearing their asshole get raped from the Thai food the night before doesn't bother you as much as it would if there were only an inch of plastic stopping you from rubbing knees together. The handicapped stall shit takes at least 20 minutes, letting you clear you mind and relax. No worries other than when you hear the bathroom door open, and anticipate the 1 in 1000 chance that you see a set of wheels rolling up to your occupied stall, and an angry paraplegic pounds on the door saying "What the fuck, asshole?!"

Mark my words, when the day comes where The Coalition has its own office it will be chuck full of handicapped stalls. Mass producing quality blogs and landing premium pro bono work for developing branded entertainment, all from the comfort of our 8'x8' granite handicapped cubes of bliss.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone


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