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For those of you who know him, you know what to expect from a Greg Prindle story. Greg is a college friend of mine for whom life is a trial, consisting solely of a parade of demeaning events meant to frustrate him. His only joy is to be known as this guy and to be mentioned when things like that happen to other people. Enjoy, Greg.

Earlier this week, I was fairly sick. I have been sick for the past two weeks, having just recently recieved medical attention. It was a mixture of chest cold, allergies and apparently asthma. Good Times. After Rick and Bubba, I was in the production studio, doing my usual thing when nature called. When you're sick you know to quickly answer that call. (Don't worry, this isn't that type of story. I'll keep it generally unfilthy.)

As I walked down the hall to the bathroom, everybody could hear me clinking as I walked. I have, for the past year or so, placed my keys in my front jeans pocket with the car clicker part hanging out. They are secure, with the added bonus of being easy to access without all of the deep pocket digging. This way, when I head out to my car, with various items in hand, it is simple to get at them. The only problem is when my Micra Leatherman is hanging out as well, you can hear me clinking when I walk. Small price to pay.

The bathroom situation at Cumulus is as follows. There is one men's bathroom off to the side which is smaller, dingier, and in a low traffic area. I prefer this one because I am much less likely to be bothered when taking care of business. Needless to say, this one was occupied, so I traveled to the main hallway where the fancier restroom is located.

This one is almost big enough to allow multiple users at the same time, but not quite. The gulf between a solitary bathroom and one where multiple can use it simultaneously is as great as the Grand Canyon. For a bathroom to grow up and be a restroom, it has to big enough to allow anonymity for those who are handling otherwise unseemly activities. If the people in a restroom are acutely aware of what the other is doing and more importantly who that other person is, then it just becomes a creepy bathroom. Basically, this requires a minimum of three stalls, or two if you're amongst strangers (i.e. restaurant). This is not the situation at work.

At work we have a large bathroom, with 1 urinal and 1 stall. You cannot hide in the stall, and there is NO mistaking where that odor is coming from. Thus, most people choose to use the lock on the door. I am one of those people. However, this decision is the cause of the bulk of the social anxiety at work. Do I lock it and avoid a creep-a-thon? Or do I leave it unlocked and avoid being labeled as a selfish bathroom hog? I am a bathroom hog.

This changes the psychology of the bathroom stay. Because I am hogging the bathroom, I try to get business doen as quickly as possible. As I result, I tend to combine some tasks to save time. No, nothing unsanitary. More like pulling up my pants and flushing at the same time.

Because it is a handicapped accesible toilet, it is as long as this story - and requires a long reach to begin the flush. While doing so with one hand and pulling up my pants with the other, you end up pretty close to the front of the toilet. This necessitates a little jump away as soon as you push the lever to avoid splashback. Unfortunately, this flush/pull-up/jump back maneuver didn't go as planned.