"Oh Marie, why have you forsaken me?!"
Calm down, calm down, a tasty post is underway. The inspiration within me these last few weeks have been rather lacking. I've searched and searched for a topic I can pour myself over. Then it STRUCK me.
This is not a joke. This is not intentional irony.
I don't know if any of you can relate; do you know the feeling when you enter a quiet bathroom with only one or two patrons in their own stalls? You slip into one that
1 - does not have an unsightly tissue-decorated toilet rim.
2 - actually HAS toilet paper.
3 - is not overflowing in excrement. (Seriously, girls, HOW can you miss?)
Everything seems normal as you sit yourself down on the toilet, and then....
Oh god, you just happened to land a creaker. And placed too much pressure on the toilet seat at once. So in the attempt to "lighten the load," you lift yourself slowly...
The two in the other stalls seem to have frozen in fear that the doorknob-turning velociraptors from Jurassic Park are terrorizing the commodes voraciously seeking human-flavored jello.
Watch that tortuous scene here. GOTTA LOVE IT.
This is how it actually was:
But this is how it was perceived:
I suddenly felt the need to run out of my stall to prove that I'm not Jabba the Hutt or a pack of swift and deadly, carnivorous dinosaurs. Like I'm ever gonna see any of them again. In fact, while I'm at it, I might as well have fun and pretend I've been casted to perform my own solo masterpiece on the set of Stomp.
IT FEELS GOOD TO BE AWESOME.