Golden Showers, Eyeball Juice, Bathroom Etiquette, and Ticket Prices

Today I went to the movies and saw Inglorious Basterds. Excellent movie. Some of the violence might turn some people off, but if you like Tarantino like I do, you will love it. Anyway, my trip to the bathroom urinal once again reminded me why I love the summertime. Unlike in the wintertime, when I have to go to Chinatown and pay $20 dollars American to get some street corner walking, desperate, methamphetamine riddled tweeker who has not slept in five days, to pee on me, in the summer, all I have to do is wear a pair of flip flops and visit the bathroom. There, for absolutely free, somebody who has apparently shotgunned a 12 pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, three Venti lattes, and a 32 ounce Dasani within the last 15 minutes, will happily urinate on my foot for free. Let me tell you, there is no more refreshing feeling than the cool, misty sensation of a a light rain shower coming from your left and descending on the arch of your foot and on your shin. Thank goodness this guy didn't bother taking the other open urinals further to the left and decided to get nice and cozy by choosing the one right next to me. And that's another thing. Who doesn't know bathroom etiquette? You never, EVER, take a urinal right next to somebody unless you have to. It's a universal, fundamental law (in fact, I think Einstein somehow worked this constant into his theory of general relativity). If you're desperate to see my privates, can't you be like everybody else and at least buy me a drink first before you sidle up next to me and dive right into peeing on me? I mean, normally the Golden Shower is something you work up to after your marriage has gotten boring, right? It's a helluva a gutsy move to break the ice with.

On the other hand, there's the other bathroom extreme I encountered as well...and that's the folks with the extreme urinal fear. The type of people require a stall just for the simplest of bathroom needs. Without going into any nasty detail, let's just say I had the misfortune of needing a plumbing fixture other than a urinal. Like, quickly. So I go to the bathroom and every single stall is occupied. But, oddly enough, all the urinals are free. So, being the curious sort, I peek under the doors and see that everybody is standing to take care of business. I need to sit, 'ya know? A urinal is not going to cut it for me. And here is a bunch of "men", and I use that term loosely, too afraid to hang it out at a urinal. Come on people. If you're THAT ASHAMED/EMBARRASSED to use a urinal, you have no business using a public restroom, maybe no business even being in public at all for that matter. I'm having some distress here, and you're in there dealing with some sort of body shame your momma gave you when she caught you with your dads Playboy when your were 11 yrs. old. Anyhow, somebody eventually vacated, and I made it in the nick of time. My advice to the urinal-phobic? Next time you go out, leave the stalls open for those who truly need them, and you can prepare for this in the following manner: avoid all liquids 8 hrs. before going out; eat an entire bag of vinegar and salt potato chips for breakfast; go for a run in the heat of midday; and enjoy some MSG laden take-out Chinese prior to beginning your evening on the town. That should get you so dried out you won't have to urinate for a week. Sure, you may experience renal failure and go blind, but hey, you won't have to deal with the bathroom...and the stalls will be available for emergency use only.

Does anybody know what gnats eat? Me either. Anybody know what sort of pheromones gnats give off in order to attract a mate? Me either. But whatever it is, it must be very similar to the human tears that keep our eyes moist. I went for a jog tonight and I could clearly see little clouds of gnats about 5 to 5 1/2 feet off of the ground. And yet, as I ran by, they would elevate (I'm 6"1") and kamikaze themselves in a death plunge right into my ocular cavity. It is somewhat distracting to be plucking miniature flying creatures from your eyeball as you attempt to stave off death by staying somewhat fit. This happened like 300 times as I ran tonight (ok, it was more like four...but still). I must have looked like the Bi-Polar Express as I ran around the lake because it looked like I was alternately weeping uncontrollably and furiously rubbing my eyes, and then I would look perfectly calm and sedate 5 seconds later. Oh well. I'm the weird neighbor up until 4 or 5 am everyday anyway, so they probably already think I'm unhinged.

Finally, ticket prices. Bought some tickets tonight online. There was a $1.75 per ticket handling fee, and a $2.00 per ticket delivery fee. OK. Handling fee? Delivery fee? The tickets are being held in WILL CALL!!! They're not being delivered anywhere!!!! I have to burn my own gas and get them myself!!!!! WTF???? Handling fee? THEY WERE PURCHASED ONLINE. Nobody handled them! Even better, they were purchased directly from the event box office, where the tickets are kept ANYWAYS. How stupid do they think we are? "Look! The tickets are only $16! They're running a special...let's get some!!!" Well, no. The tickets are actually $19.75. But I'm guessing in this time of economic strife they figure by not advertising the extra $3.75, the folks will come a runnin'. Whatever. Just treat me like an adult and tell me the tickets are basically $20. I'd respect you a helluva lot more if you did. This weak ass attempt at manipulating the consumer with this sort of ham fisted Jedi Mind Trick (These are not the prices you're looking for...) is patently offensive. Can't we just be straight with each other and be honest? I mean, it's not like we're married for crying out loud (bada bing!)