If there’s one single thing that I could eliminate from my life it would be the need to poop in any public restroom. Everything about it grosses me out. The hatred of this event causes me to hold it, usually until enough pressure has built up to make the fast walk with knees locked together inevitably urgent. Some of my greatest turds were in public toilets, but I’ll save those stories for another day. 

The fact that I hate stall squats makes a visit to one of these disgusting germ farms once or twice a week my public service duty to inform. “The more you know⭐️” I’m always on the lookout for safe rooms, the lesser known poop palaces that have not so much wear & tear on them. If you walk into a place with scratches on the tiles where a mirror used to hang a generation ago, blue lights to deter shooting up, or no-door Johns you can wait. 

So, at the risk of oversharing, I will let you all in on my silly shitty secrets. There are a couple slam dunk places to seek out: Target and Kohls. Target’s commodes smell like Fruit Loops cereal milk, it really masks any previous unpleasant goings on in that room! The stores do a great job maintaining the facilities too. Kohls is even better, I’m not sure that anyone even knows they have bathrooms here. There’s complete privacy as the stalls are completely walled in opposed to the metallic cubicle feel of other establishments. The best part of this place is the paper products are always stocked and such low traffic means no warm seats. 

When these two players are not on the field, I search for maintenance closets close to the pisser. It’s not beneath me to do scrub down in an emergency situation… within reason. I mean when there’s finger painting on the walls I’m out. Who does that? The TP is single ply but wad up you nasty bastards. 

Okay, so there’s no cleaning closet or cart close by. The time of window shopping is over, what I got is what I got. After some fiddling of the locking mechanism on the tin door I flush first, ya never know if there’s a layer of piss waiting to splash up at you. Ass gaskets, you know the “first pull up, then pull down” tissues, I take 2 of them out. I throw one in the water as a way to further prevent splash back. The other one folds out over the front of the bowl, like the toilet has a tissue tongue sticking out. This is the Peter protector. No accidental tip touches happening on my watch. 

Nothing against grunters, but I swear these guys play it up when they know there’s an audience. From the sound the Dude at this particular Fred Meyer is making, you’d think his last meal was broken glass and salt-water taffy. 

I’m laughing to hard to continue. And it’s out loud, I can only imagine what this Neanderthal next to me is thinking. Better wipe and get back to work. Thanks for listening.