Two things that I am barely upset about, but feel the need to write an impassioned blog post for.

Maneuvering a public restroom is an art. I think it was Miss Manners who said, you don't pick a stall next to an occupied one. And I'm absolutely positive it was her who emphatically emphasized, you maintain personal space between urinals. You pick the farthest one away. No peeking, Snoopy.

How can one out-think a public toilet with sensors, one that sucks the seat protector down before I can even sit...And the seat protector is always smaller than the seat itself anyway, so when it does stay, the back of the sheet slips and folds into itself, dropping down into the water. So the game continues. By that time, I don't have to go anymore.

(Now, I'm not a germ-o-phobe... hell, I'll eat dropped food off the floor or a shared public countertop. Maybe even fight the cat for dropped chicken. I draw the line at recovering dropped food from airplane tray tables. That's just disgusting.)

But I shall shake my fist to the heavens defiantly if it's the last seat protector, and it flushes before I can sit down. And I am forced to share arse sweat with the colonocally challenged moose that huffed and puffed his way through a morning constitution, before me.

And while I have the space, be good to yourself and us all. Eat a bran muffin or something.

And stop playing Tetris on your phone in the next stall. I can hear your disgusting, germy fingers clicking away. You're a jerk. I'm flipping you off right now on the other side.

Oh yeah...another thing...other shite (pun mostly somewhat intended) that gets me...

People who walk slower than I do (which consists of, oh... everyone). Especially those who walk side by side, shoulder to shoulder. I enevitably am left to wander aimlessly behind them, imaptient and jumpy, well in site of my destination. They block like a nickelback defense, and leave no room for reconaisance end- around manuevers. And they look over their shoulder and rather than get out of the way, they move sideways into my path.

I need to figure out a way to invent pants with cow-catchers. Just scoop 'em up, and knock 'em into the ficus.

Outta my way, pokeys!