It's Business Time.

It creeps up on you, real quiet like.  At first you think maybe it’s nothing.  It will pass.  But you’re starting to re-think the insane amount of peanuts that you ate after your peanut butter sandwich lunch.  It’s not creeping anymore, it’s attacking, and it’s gnawing at your insides.  It’s time.  You need to take a dump at work.

First things first, change to your spare pair of shoes.  What you don’t have a spare pair at work?  Well you should.  Not just because bathrooms are gross, but also, if someone walks into the bathroom while you’re halfway through a wretched fart, they won’t be able to recognize you by your shoes.  They’ll spend the rest of their day trying to find the mystery shoes, but you will have hidden them safely away in your drawer / briefcase / pants.

Now that you’re wearing your poop shoes, you can set out to the bathroom, just as soon as you prepare your entertainment.  As long as you are away from your desk and dumping, you might as well make a little spa relaxation time out of it.  Cell phones are popular for their gaming, but be sure it has a nice silent touch screen.  Loud clicky buttons are a dead giveaway for any eavesdroppers, sorry Mr. Blackberry, but we all hear you in there, and we are all disgusted.  Shit, I bought an iPhone just because I knew it would allow for silent gaming while pinching a loaf at work.  Even though we all play cell phone games while pooping, it’s one of those don’t ask don’t tell things.  We all do it, kind of like not washing up after peeing… wait, what?  Oh and be discrete, and turn off the sound.  

Don’t bring a magazine or book, because someone might spot it and ask you where you are going.  Magazines and books are reserved for the home edition.

Some people take entertainment free dumps.  They just sit there and will the crap to happen with the power of their mind.  I commend these warriors for their exceptional bowel prowess and deep thinking capabilities.  That’s like running on a treadmill without an iPod.

Now, you’ve made it to the bathroom, and it’s empty.  So you can make a run for the stall of your choice.  Try and get a nice corner stall.  Makes for a bit more reverb, and you can only have, at most, one neighbour.  If there is already an occupied stall (multi-stall unit), then it is your call whether or not to press on.  If it was me, I would turn around, and try again later, although, at times there is no time for that.  It is a personal choice.

Make sure you lock the stall and try the door before you drop trou and have a good sit.  The last thing that you want is to be so focused on ‘Angry Birds’ that you fail to realize that the door has swung open and you sit, exposed, cell phone in hand, poopy in bowl.  At which point you would have to quit, move and change your name, which can be rather expensive.  This can be especially dangerous if the stall faces the door to the outside where the water cooler is.  “Does that really ever happen?”, you may ask yourself.  Yes.  One hundred percent yes.  If you could only see the single tear running down my cheek as I write this.  Learn from my failures, folks.

Now, with all locks checked, you sit.  Commence. 

When sitting in the stall, doing your duty (doody?), and there is someone else in there with you, you may feel the need to clench up and refrain from making any sound.  This timid behaviour is not abnormal, but can be rather unhealthy for the ol’ colon, most doctors agree.  ‘The Icebreaker’ is a manoeuvre I came up with that you should always keep in mind.  It is when you or the stranger lets out a little fart, just to let the other know that, it’s ok, and no one here is judging.  Once you hear a fart response, you know what it means: “Go ahead pardner, let’er rip”. 

If neither of you make any noise, because no one wants to ‘speak’ first, you could end up sitting on the can for hours, in some kind of bizarre Mexican standoff, which would be fine if the pins and needles in your damn legs would go away.  Avoid all of this, by being an ‘Icebreaker’, pay it forward, karma.  Do unto others as you would, you know, all that shit.

Now that it is happening, there are some things you should remember.

Don’t talk to yourself, ever.  Not ever. I once heard a guy clearly say, “oh my god” with a certain groaning tone in his voice.  I wish that I could go back to a time and life before having heard it, but I can’t.  Don’t be that guy (or gal).  And yes, grunts count.  You shouldn’t have to push so hard, certainly not while at work.  Start looking into getting more fiber in that diet of yours, Groany McAwfulstein.

Don’t talk to other people either.  If it is illegal to talk on the phone while driving, it certainly should be so while pooping.  Even if its hands free, I doubt anyone wants to know that your free hands are potentially wiping your ass.  That's one conference call you don't want to be a part of.

“Hey, Bill, could you mute your phone?  Why are you breathing so heavily?”

“What can I say, I guess I’m just really into this shit.”

Also, people that talk from the stall to anyone else in the bathroom should be fired.  Or there should be a button you can press that sucks them down into the toilet and ejects them out of some chimney somewhere.  What?  It comes with a parachute, in this fantasy world, in my mind.

"I tried to tell my wife that her creamed corn does this to me every time, but she jus-"
-EJECTOR BUTTON-
"AAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh..."

I understand that some people need to cover the toilet with a layer of toilet paper, or use one of those toilet seat prophylactics.  I get it.  You don’t want someone’s butt cooties.  But if that’s the case, be sure to dispose of your bullet proof vest along with your dung.  Preferably in separate flushes to avoid clogs, which I will discuss below.  Last thing, about that extra protection, don’t be that freak that wraps the entire toilet like some kind of mummy or cocoon, and then leave it behind.  Seriously, what the fuck? I feel like I’m in a science fiction movie and the CHUDS or Ghoulies are going to be birthed out of this thing.

And throw in a courtesy flush whenever necessary, even when you are alone.  It’s good to keep the bowl fresh, and the air as light as possible.

Always flush the nuggets prior to placing any toilet paper in the toilet.  Regardless of its size or girth, the last thing that you will want is an at work clog, which would cause you to quit, move and change your name, which can be rather expensive.  If you eat excessive amounts of cheese and are known for rather solid logs, perhaps bringing a pocket knife would help, as you could break it up into pieces to avoid any problems.  The Swiss army knife scissors are usually pretty effective.  You be the judge.  Although public toilets tend to have tremendous strength, honestly, if it looks too big to go down smooth, it just may be.

I know, you may be thinking that I have crossed some kind of line, but I’ve never caused a clog, nor been responsible for the perpetration of poopy water all over the bathroom floor.  Save your judging for someone who deserves it, like those responsible for ‘puddles’, ‘leftovers’ or ‘poopseat’.  Those are the careless people that live with an overall disregard for anyone else’s well being.  It’s not like I use that same paring knife to cut my snack cucumbers. You should be thanking me. 

Once successful flushing has been achieved, it will be time to make a break for the sinks.  Obviously wait until the place is empty before exiting the stall.  The walk of shame from the stall to the sink is an especially long one if it turns out the president of the company is in the bathroom.  Even more so if the muggy, thick air acts like a punch in his smug, presidential face.  He probably doesn’t even have to poop, he probably has a servant that extracts it from him and turns into pot pourri (poori?).  Why is he in my bathroom anyways?  Doesn’t he have some golden toilet somewhere that massages his ass while he sits on it and spits out money for every turd he squeezes out?

Not that this has happened to me or anything, twice, at the job I quit last year.

If you really are worried about run-ins with co-workers or bosses, remember the three keys of real estate: location, location and location.  Try and go to a different floor if possible or even, a different building if your schedule permits.  For example, maybe there’s a great McDonalds down the street.  Also the cheap cheeseburgers can often help induce labour, if you have been having trouble lately.  Just be sure to allow enough time to get there.  While most work place poops are photo finishes, you want to be sure you make it to the finish line, or else you will definitely have to quit, and move, and change your name, and that can be rather expensive.  First you'd have to change your pants.

Look, I know this is an awful lot to take in, but if you don’t feel like you can follow these simple guidelines, then maybe you need to find a job that you can do from home.  Or just be unemployed.  Or just hold it in.

That’s it.  I got to stand up and wipe (that’s right, STAND… see: Panel of Judges).

Weenie Roast.

As hard as you can try, eventually you will find yourself in a position where you look like a weenie, or feel like a weenie, or are just acting like a total weenie.  It can creep up on you and come at you unexpectedly, or, at times, you can see it coming from a mile away.  Some people are just total weenies all the time, and to those people, I apologize.  There is little that I can do for you.  For the rest of us occasional weenies, I will try and help you navigate the road of life avoiding the obstacles that can obstruct your overall coolness and make you feel like a weenie.  Some of these obstacles can’t be avoided, and in those cases, I’ll try and help you cope.

According to the dictionary, a weenie either means a frankfurter, a penis, or a nerd.  According to me, however, a weenie is not so much being a nerd, which can have certain positive connotations, so much as just being totally lame.  

I guess that for me, it can still mean frankfurter or penis as well.

When it comes to looking like a weenie, obvious examples would be faux-pas’ like ‘socks and sandals’, the ‘bowlcut’, wearing snowpants or those awful hats with the big ear flaps.  I won’t go off on a hat tangent at any point, as I have already done that once before (see: Accessory Before and After the Fact).  Obvious examples of feeling like a weenie could include losing at dodgeball, having your credit card denied or failing a driving test.  Obvious examples of acting like a total weenie should include mispronouncing easy words, confidently shouting the wrong answer in a game of Trivial Pursuit or singing in your car with the windows down (see: Turn it Up, Man).  

Are you starting to understand?  

In short, sometimes you can avoid being a weenie, but sometimes you just can’t.  The best that we can do is deal with the risk factors that we can control.  I can’t cover everything, but these basic examples should help (one for each kind of weenie moment).

On looking like a weenie...

One of the easiest ways to look like a total weenie is to wear a backpack.  Now, before you get all in a tizzy and tie up your panties into infinity knots, yes, I do recognize the usefulness of backpacks.  And it’s not everyone that needs to avoid them altogether.  But it’s kind of like how some guys put on a suit and look like they’re wearing their dad’s pyjamas, and other guys put on a suit and look quite dapper and shit.  In turn, some people rock the backpack just fine.  They look like a casual businessperson on the go.  But you know the type of backpackin’ weenie I mean.  You know how some people put one on and instantly look five years old and just begging to have their lunch money stolen?

If you absolutely must employ a backpack, then there are some things that you should know.  This can help reduce your wienieness.

Don’t tighten the straps all the way to the max.  It’s like when you see a guitarist with the strap all tight and the guitar is up at his chest.  He doesn’t look like a rock God anymore.  He looks like a member of the wiener patrol.  Another example is someone with their shoelaces tied real tight.

“Look how tight my laces are, these babies will never come off.”

What a weenie.  If the backpack straps are that tight, you may as well just bite the bullet and sport the fanny pack, taking you into ultimate weenie territory.

Don’t fill the backpack to capacity either.  There’s no way that you need to be carrying around enough stuff to fill a whole backpack.  What’s in there, a basketball?  Honestly, now you look like a lil’ kid on their way to the basketball court to shoot some hoops with his pals.  Except you don’t actually have any pals.  All you have is a backpack full of shit and a weenie aura that alienates all of those around you.  You don’t make friends with backpacks.

A full backpack just makes you look small and weird, like when people wear exceedingly large sunglasses.  Seriously, don’t wear gigantic sunglasses unless you are:

a) Elton John

b) A pilot in the movie Top Gun

c) Dead with both eyeballs missing

d) A clown

e) All of the above

Moving right along… The worst thing you can do is have a full backpack with the straps tightened all the way.  Even if you’re hiking, you should try and avoid this, because you’ll just look like a granola weenie.  And isn’t that just the worst kind of weenie?

Also, put both shoulder straps on.  The backpack slung over one shoulder doesn’t look casual after the age of twelve.  It looks ultra lame, and thus, quite weenieful.

I have a backpack that I bring to work, and every day, when I go out to the car, I feel slightly less cool then I did before.  Still, it seems better than paying money for a more adult looking bag.  At least my backpack is black, and truth be told, that’s another thing that can help.  Don’t have a bright ass backpack that looks like it has all sorts of nifty pockets made to hold your pencil case, calculator and retainer / headgear.

On feeling like a weenie...

Bringing the car in for maintenance at a garage is a surefire way to make yourself feel like a weenie.  Most of the time, I don’t even understand what I am asking them to do to my car.  I just read what needs to be done off of my vehicle’s maintenance schedule thingy they gave me when I drove it off the lot.  When I am reading it off to the guy at the garage I just try and mumble it, or cough while saying it, in the hopes that he will correct me, and guess what I am talking about.

It’s like ordering off of an Italian restaurant’s menu, when they obnoxiously put the stupid fucking menu items in Italian.

“Yeah I’ll have the … ummm… panooni… giupallda… pancechia.. bruschegnochi?”

“The ravioli?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The mechanics tend to worsen the situation, by asking you questions that you don’t really know the answer to.

“Yes, I need my breaks serviced.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Umm... nothing I think, just according to my maintenance schedule, they require servicing.”

“You been having problems or… what is it exactly you need done?”

“Would you like to see the maintenance schedule?”

“No, that’s ok.”

“You know, I’m not normally such a weenie.”

This is much like how an overall lack of sports knowledge can get you into similar weenie waters with sports superfans, but I believe I tackled that already (see: Color Commentator).  There are two ways to not feel wienerific in front of the mechanic.  Either educate yourself about the inner workings of your automobile (not happening), or just fake that you know what they are talking about (that’s the one).

“There’s a problem with your Flarnder Rodenspiel.”

“Oh yeah, I totally noticed that last week, just you know, give it the usual.”

“What?”

“Proceed with the tune-up.”

The mechanic will still know that you’re a weenie, but you’ll walk away with your head held high, a proud weenie.

On acting like a weenie...

 “I bike to work every day on my banana seat bicycle.  Kneel before me, the king of all weenies.”

They take up an entire lane as if they are a car, but then go through red lights.  They have pants tucked into socks, or are wearing one of those elastics to stop their good work khakis from clogging up the gears.  They ride the elevator up to their floor while still wearing their helmet, as well as the previously mentioned pants elastic.  They have super aerodynamic sunglasses.  They are the weeniecycles.

“Of course I’m turning, did you not see my hand signal?”

Riding a bike in the city does not automatically make you a weenie, but it doesn’t help.  If you have a bell, horn, basket or tassels on your bike, please close your computer and go set fire to your bicycle immediately.

With these three examples you have the blueprint for what makes a true weenie.  Try your best to extrapolate from this guide other situations during which you may look, feel or act like a weenie, and avoid them forever.

That’s it.  These snowpants are really making my balls itch and chafing my groin.

Watch Your Mouth.

There are plenty of situations that arise when a person’s brain filter doesn't catch a nugget of truth on its way past the vocal cords and out of the mouth, causing a person to say something that creates an awkward and uncomfortable situation for all of those involved.  This is often referred to as putting your foot in your mouth.  I’m not going to discuss that here.  Out of context, there is no way for me to know what is or isn't appropriate to say in whatever situation you are in.  Clearly saying something along the lines of “kind of like how your mother used to be an actual prostitute in a real brothel” is probably not something you want to say.  If you have the nerve to blurt out things that are obviously taboo, then you may very well deserve whatever shunning will certainly follow.  What I would like to do is help you avoid certain situations in which you may accidentally say something embarrassing because you did not realize what it could mean, or be interpreted as, as you were actually saying it.

"BLANK my ass."

Sometimes you will hear something that you think is bullshit, and you will wish to call bullshit on the person that said it.  An expression, that is not too uncommon is ‘BLANK my ass’.

“That Jeremy Fapperwheel sure is talented.”

“Talented my ass!”

In this case, clearly you did not agree that Fapperwheel had any talent.  This is totally acceptable.  You just need to be careful what sort of statement you are using this on.  It can get you into a strange predicament.

“So you don’t think he has any talent?”

“No, I really don’t think Jeremy Fapperwheel is all he is cracked up to be.”

“What are you saying? Come on, man!” 

“Come on my ass!”

“…”

Once the awkward silence subsided, the two relative strangers went about their day, as if no sexual advances had in fact been made.

"Don’t BLANK me."

Similar to ‘BLANK my ass’, you really just need to make sure that what you are putting into this context can’t be taken in a different direction.

“You honestly think that your mullet is cool?  Whatever dude.”

“Don’t whatever me!”

That sounds ok, I suppose.  It’s a bit lame, but it works.

“You honestly think that your rat tail is cool? Come on, man!”

“Don’t come on me!”

On top of the discomfort you both will feel, if anyone else is in ear range of your conversation, they may start to question what’s going on in your cubicle.  I guess maybe just try to avoid being told to “come on”.   If told to “come on” run away as fast as you can.

"Fucking BLANK."

I understand that the ‘f’ word is a wonderful word used to enhance many statements in today’s modern conversation.  If during your exchange with another human, you should feel strongly enough about a certain something, you may throw it in there for good measure. 

“Was Smokey and the Bandit any good?”

“Man, it was fucking amazing!”

Seems totally acceptable to me, your sentiment is both heard and emphasized.  However if you try to use it in the same way, under different circumstances, and emphasize the wrong part of a sentence, the outcome can be severely altered.

“Was Burt Reynolds any good in it?”

“Man, I want to be fucking Burt Reynolds.”

“Like… circa 1977, or like Boogie Nights era?  Present day?  I guess he was really good…”

Clearly what was meant was something a little less lustful.

“Man, I want to fucking be Burt Reynolds.”

It is all in what you emphasize.  The response that followed works in either case, but the feeling is very fucking different.   Also, never start a sentence with an ‘f’ bomb, as it can lead to you demanding people to do the unthinkable.  Perhaps, for example, you mean to inform someone that your mom sent a text to you.

“My mom sent me a text.”

Great.  However, when people get carried away with the ol’ fuck word, sometimes it gets slipped into the beginning of every statement.

“Fuck!  My mom sent me a text.”

Written out, you may see nothing wrong.  Like "Holy shit! My mom [..]".  But, read it fast.  That’s right, you just told someone to “fuck my mom”.  Time for you to go stick your head in the oven my friend.  Fucking use fuck carefully, fuck.  Perhaps this is how those mother-brothel rumors get started.

"I’ll BLANK you."

That’s right, another one where context can really do you in.

“Put the stapler back next time!”

“I’ll put you back next time!”

That makes a certain amount of sense.  Is it witty?  No.  But I suppose one could argue that it has a certain je-ne-sais-quoi.  But things can go dreadfully wrong.

“Would you mind turning the light on? “

“I’ll turn you on!”

“Shit, what kind of office is this?”

You can even take it a step further.

“Blow out the candles!”

“I’ll blow you!”

“My kind of party…”

Rather than risk any danger, maybe just discontinue the use of the ‘I’ll BLANK you’.  As we have just seen, it doesn’t work that well even when it does work, regardless of its je-ne-sais-quoi qualities.

"Hi how are you?" – [BRAINFART].

These are self explanatory.  There are so many ways in which you can respond something completely nonsensical. 

“How’s it going?” – “Not much, you?” or

“Hey, what’s up?” – “Pretty good, yourself?” or

“Hi.” – “Can’t complain, how about you?” or

“Can you believe this weather?” – “Hey.” etc.

You get the idea.  You look stupid when, really, you just don’t care enough to formulate an adequate response.

So, listen, if these kinds of things happen to you a lot, all I can suggest is that you try and slow down the speed with which you answer questions.  Sure, you’ll be called “a little slow” or “dumb” behind your back, but it beats the alternative.  I think.  Maybe it doesn’t.  Just stop talking altogether.  Give people little more than a nod, or a tip of the hat.  The vow of silence will make you look noble and courageous, or, like a creepy mime.  Either way, people might finally start leaving you alone.  And isn’t that really what all of this was about?

That’s it.  I have to go practice my 'walking against the wind' and shit.

Naming Convention.

I think that we all know that some people have phenomenally lame names.  I don't mean it in that endearing "Boy Named Sue" kind of a way either.  Parents-to-be out there, please, use real fucking names from now on.  I don’t want to name any names in particular and alienate anyone out there, or offend anyone, but I will use an example to illustrate my point.

“Hi y’all, meet my children Kayden, Brayden, Mayden, Jayden, Fayden, Snayden and Dayden.”

Pronounced similarly, this batch of rhyming made-up names makes me wish that y’all had been doing less impregnayden and more masturbayden.  Guess what?  You’re kids will grow up and want to trayden their name for a new one.  Oh yeah, I just done and went for it.  Now, I realize that I could have enhanced the example by spelling them all with different endings, like Shaedyn, or Gaydin, but when I started writing it out, I threw up in my mouth.  If it’s an English name, I should be able to figure out if it’s a boy or a girl.  

Poorly named people out there, it is time to start adopting nicknames.

“Hi my name is Branaeedyn, but you can call me Michael.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’ll be frank, it’s because my name sucks.”

“Listen asshole, are you Frank or Michael?”

Whatever happened to standard names like Jim and Paul and Max?  What the hell were these people thinking?  Just because it rhymes with a real name, doesn’t make it a real name, and certainly doesn’t give you the right to use it to just invent sucky names.  Yeah, I’m talking to you, Bouglas and Bimothy’s parents.  And don’t tell me that the name has some special meaning in some mystical unicorn language.  It may mean ‘beautiful’ but it’s fucking ugly.  

I’m all for having names with meaning, but choose something that doesn’t just sound so aggravating.  And if you want to go unique and special, than at least get crazy with it, Frank Zappa style.

And, in the end, I guess I did name names after all.

“But it’s my name!  I can’t just stop using it!”

Not with that attitude.

The next time that you’re In Whole Foods looking at expensive orgrainic  vegetable crackers, and there’s this kid throwing gluten-free wafers around screaming about wanting his soy treat and honey wheat ball, listen carefully when the mother and/or father yell out to the child.  Listen to the name.  You will hear an example of a name that you should never name your child.  Take note of it, if needs be, and create a list.  Don’t limit yourself to Whole Foods.  Do this anywhere.  Anytime you hear a lame name come out of the mouth of lame parents scolding their lame child, write it down in your lame name journal for safekeeping, so that we can stop the cycle of insanity once and for all.

I’m not normally like this, but some kid named Haedyn Bralaedyn just kicked me in the shins and punched me in the nuts.

That’s it.  Jnaeden is asking for me.