Getting screwed while everyone else is getting laid.
Please "Flush". Thank's.
I work in New England. No one in New England knows how to use a computer. It's not surprising that on my first day of work I found a rather crude hand written sign above the urinal.
This is what I saw:
It's harmless enough, right? Wrong. Look a little closer:
Let me explain something to you. People in New England have long believed that you use quotation marks around a word to emphasize it. This is why you will see signs that say:
"Bologna" on Sale
Contains "Real" Fruit
Caution: Paint is "Wet"
People in New England just keep on doing this, blissfully unaware that rather than emphasizing the enclosed word these quotation marks only serve to make the writer appear both dumb and untrustworthy.
Another shameful thing is that everyone in the area has no concept of how to pluralize a word. Rather than putting an S at the end of the word, New Englanders feel compelled to bridge the gap between the end of the word and the S with an apostrophe. It's, Thank's, Hand's. That's how words are pluralized in my world.
This sign contained both of these marks of shame.
After six months of peeing in the same room with this damned sign I just couldn't stand the embarrassment anymore. I decided to act. I fired up Microsoft Word and cranked out a replacement sign. Something that wouldn't make the already humiliating experience of pissing in a urinal even more emasculating. Every day I'd been reminded that not only did I have my member in my hands but I was also staring poor grammar right in the face.
The new sign brought joy to my morning pee and I'd like to think that I became a little more productive at work (If you forget for a moment that I spent entire mornings making signs about pee and taking photographs in the Men's room--praying that no one would walk in).
While the old sign pissed me off (pun intended) I was left feeling a little sad about just throwing it away. We had bonded once a day, five days a week for about six months. I couldn't just toss it in the rubbish. Could I?
So I took the sign home and placed it over my toilet at home. It turns out that the negative feelings that I'd had about the sign were really shades of a deeply rooted love. So now this is what I see every night before I go to bed:
Somehow, what once ticked me off in the morning, brings me comfort at night. I don't know who wrote that sign, but their inkings, outlined by faded highlighter, bring me nothing but joy now. What could be happier than feeling at peace while you tinkle?