Just Groovin’ In The Bathroom How ‘Bout You?

Rambler here with another timely post! 

Hah!  Because it rarely gets updated so saying that it’s timely is funny cuz it never is actually…

…………………..I’ll shut up now.

Except that would make for an absolutely pointless blog post which I suppose could be said for any of these on here. Of course if you read any of the others or this one then who’s fault is it really?

The Illuminati?  I keep forgetting about Internet logic. 

Anyway rather than bore you with the details of the impending takeover by individuals looking to establish a new world order, I thought I would talk to you about bathrooms. 

Or more specifically the concept of playing music in bathrooms. Now of course the idea of music and bathroom use were established early on in the case of Beans v. Magic Fruit Corporation wherein beans were determined to have unnatural abilities that allowed for the increased creation of distinctive “tooting” sounds from the rear of the body with increased consumption of the product. 

But the concept of music in other situations involving the porcelain throne just take on rather uncomfortable connotations. After all to “Shake It Off” on a dance floor is one thing.  When faced with four walls and a man impatiently waiting for you to get out of the stall because you are too afraid to use a urinal with other people next to you, it can’t help but take on a whole other meaning entirely. 

Case in point when I walked into my local big box retailer recently. It really doesn’t matter which one because this seems to be true of most places who could fit the collective populations of five South American countries within their confines. 

I go inside the facilities in preparation to rest myself after wrapping the seat in my customary 75 pieces of toilet paper when I realized two things. 

1.  There is a speaker playing directly over my head. 

2.  I probably should have checked the amount of toilet paper that was still in here before I sat down. 

So while hoping that my arms were long enough and making up a story that I liked to engage in stretching exercises while doing business in case anyone else was in the next stall, I couldn’t also help but hear the delightful strains of Cher telling me to turn back the clock. Which I would have been happy to do at that point if it meant I could go back and invest in a bathroom tissue company so that I wouldn’t be in the mess I was currently in. 

But after I was able to perform a series of contortions that would no doubt make my future chiropractor leap for joy over his financial windfall, I began to really pay attention to the fact I had people serenading me while I silently cursed choosing spicy food again for the third time this week.

It’s weird enough having to sit there and stare at a blank door or, more likely, one telling me to go f..well that’s not nice. But I already know Britney Spears that it’s so “Toxic” hence why I am trying to get rid of it in here. 

And so on it seemed to go having disembodied voices telling me to “Push It” and that I did probably “Take It To The Limit” by ordering that third helping of hot curry. 

Finally though my body decided it has tortured me enough and let me finish so I could then take the next hour to contact a priest to come bless me after  that demon exorcism I had to participate in thanks to that all you can eat Thai special. 

But as I left I just couldn’t get over having music inside a place where joy came to let me know on the stall wall that she was a good time if you gave her a call. I know that being in a bathroom, especially for a guy, can be a lonely place. But I don’t need a ghost voice from up above to keep me company. Please just let me do my evacuating in quiet. 

Besides, how am I supposed to come up with greetings to welcome my new Illuminati rulers if I can’t think in there?

-Rambler

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