There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


That not-so-fresh feeling

A lesson in etiquette for the "ladies" who use the 2nd floor East wing bathroom at Harcourt:

Just because you don't want your precious ass to touch the toilet seat is no reason to pee all over the seat and surrounding area (including the floor). Your ass skin is thick enough to keep germs out. Toilet seat covers are provided (because tissue paper is impermeable to any kind of microbe or virus) in case you don't believe me. If you do feel the continuing need to stand while you pee, you may wish to consider switching to the men's room, where standing to pee is encouraged. If that is not amenable to you, you may wish to consider actually cleaning up the piss you've left all over the stall. Just a thought.

In other news, it was a nicely uneventful weekend. Saturday's lunching was accompanied by several Margaritas, which began a trend that lasted the rest of the day. My lazy day was interrupted by having to go to a party at my boss's house, which was tolerable because I didn't stay long. Her husband is an A/C nazi, so my thighs were kept moist and smooth by the streams of sweat that ran down them all evening. When I got back into my car, I turned the A/C on high, pulled my dress up to my waist, and aimed the vents at my cooter. Ahhhh. Ooooh.

Now the last party I went to at my boss's house was a bit more (ahem) eventful, as I had an argument with my ex-husband and the bitch he's married to on my way there. I had a weee bit tooo much to drink that evening in order to calm myself. So when I left, I was pretty "calm." I promptly drove my car into a wall within her swanky gated community, then promptly left the scene because I didn't want to be arrested for driving while calm. I was pretty sure relatively little damage had been done, but when the dust and plants were washed from the bumper of my car, the imprints of bricks remained. Then people started calling me to tell me that there were bricks strewn all over the road. Great. Then these people all called each other and discussed the incident, which resulted not only in a very bitchy person who used to be my friend telling my boss that I had driven into the wall, but also telling my boss whom I was dating (also an employee), which was (and still is) none of her business. So I was glad to leave with nothing but a sweaty cooter.

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