Wednesday Advice Smackdown
Things Amy Did This Week Instead of Sleeping


Once upon a time, this journal had A Point. I wrote essays. Fully-developed entries about a linear topic or storyline. My posts had beginnings, middles and ends.  I could do that thing where you conclude with a clever play on your first sentence or post title. I would even proofread sometimes. I could turn the world on with my smile.

In other words, A Point.

Will we ever see those days again?

Yes! I know it! I promise!

But not today. And probably not tomorrow either. Actually, now that I think about it, you should probably just forget I said anything.


See? Smaller today. Because I am no longer screaming it. Just repeating it softly to myself over and over and rocking slightly.


The big metal toilet paper/seat cover/wastebasket thing in Stall #4 in the ladies’ room is busted, just like the one in Stall #2. It kind of hangs open and makes getting paper off the roll really hard.

I never cared about Stall #2. Other people complained bitterly when the Stall Service Station broke and I was all, “Use another stall and shut up. Also, I don’t want to know which toilet you sit on.”

But now! I understand! Stall #4 was mine! It was a good location, was always well-stocked and had an interesting drain on the floor to look at and wonder if this bathroom ever used to be a locker room of some kind and then maybe imagine some kind of office women’s prison film or something.

Stall #1 is right next to the entrance of the bathroom, plus has a gap in the door that you can totally see through. Stall #3 is the favorite stall of the notorious toilet seat cover taker-and-putter-backer. Stall #5 is the handicapped stall and it’s just too big to feel comfortable in.

I am extremely distraught. Perhaps I shall just hold it all day.


While we’re on the subject of bathrooms, and before y’all totally leave in disgust because I am STILL on the subject of bathrooms, let me just tell you about the ladies’ room at my office.

It has a combination lock.

You have to punch four numbers in before you can open the door. FOUR. And it’s really low and hard to see. Originally, the combination was something absurd, like 7351. This caused such an uproar that it was changed to something easier. (Which I would totally tell you because I think it’d be hilarious to have people coming to my office and already know the secret bathroom door code, but my office takes Restroom Security very seriously, and I would get fired.)

The men’s room? No lock. No security. The men of my company? Can apparently take care of themselves better than us weak, delicate little vagina flowers.

Allegedly, we have the lock because we had a Restroom Security Breach at our old building. Some dude walked in, went into the ladies’ room and hid in a stall all day. He never talked or touched anyone. He just apparently got off on listening to women pee. Eventually, someone saw his shoes and he was discovered. 

That could just be one of those old publishing company urban legends though.


Number of special reports Amy has written this week: 7
Number of bitter, bitter tears Amy has wept in the process: 700
Number of drinks Amy will have tonight to celebrate: 7, because it’s only fitting



These are high-quality growth stocks at value-stock prices!


So according to the Post-It Notes in my purse, I rode the Metro recently. And I was going to do a post about it. I don’t think I’m going to do a post about it.

But here are my notes for the entry I was going to write, but am now not:

There’s nothing like riding the Metro to trigger a full-blown case of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I feel itchy and dirty now.

That woman over there hasn’t snipped the white stitches holding her jacket pleat together.

That guy’s t-shirt tag is sticking out. And he has neck acne.

That guy’s low battery light on his laptop is flashing. Turn off! TURN OFF!

Someone “proofread” that anti-drug poster near the door. Except that they incorrectly changed “affect” to “effect” and “hypocritical” to “hypercritical” and inserted an unnecessary semicolon. I am dying to take my red pen to it. STET!


Dear god. Why do I even have a red pen with me right now?


Several Post-Its later, I wrote this:

“I seriously thought my eyeballs might already be on the floor. Am such a whore.”

I have no idea when I wrote that or why my eyeballs were on the floor. Ew. But props for rhyming!



amalah: let’s run away and be mimes
rudecactus: hey amy...will you be mime?


Odds of Amy winning a Diarist Award, ever:  negative 3 plillion percent (%)



Well, let me tell you about the ladies room in my office building....just kidding ;)


Now you have me all worried because both of the women's restrooms in my office are non-secure. Who knows WHO might be lurking in there, just waiting to hear me pee? Gah.


First? I find this entry hysterical. So - even though it may not be beginning, end, and hilarity in the middle? Its a goody bag of hilarity.

Second? I have my own stall at Target that I always use. What does that say about me?

Third? Yeah you and the report writing!

Fourth? That MrZoot guy is hilarious.


who needs a POINT when you are so very funny without one?
I can only imagine that the combination lock is very uncomfortable when you've really got to go. Unlocking ANY door produces a chain reaction in my body to pee, so I'm constantly throwing down purses and running for the bathroom.
and the 7 drinks! you deserve it! please do some drunk posting, your fans sit at your feet, handing you drinks...


Point? We don't need no stinkin' point!

also? Vagina Flowers would so be a great name for a band!

Fraulein N

Delicate little vagina flowers. Hee. But seriously, now you got me all freaked out about stall-lurking pervs. I thought you were going to say the security was for some other reason; at my sister's old job, the ladies had to get a pass and a key (like in KINDERGARTEN)to get into the loo. Why? Because some disgruntled soul had dumped food in a toilet and then, um, used it. And you thought your seat cover bandit was bad.


You know, just the other day I had considered a post about using the bathroom when you're here late and the cleaning people are in there, but it didn't quite work. And here you are, writing a bathroom post that is really funny! But you didn't mention the annoying person who messes up stall #4 by leaving the seat cover on the toilet. That's just gross, and must be stopped.

type a

first? zoot has her own stall at TARGET?

second? whatever you're doing differently to your blog now, don't go back. please.

third? affect is a verb; effect is a noun. a semi-colon is used to separate two complete thoughts. anyone who doesn't know that? should be stet-ed out of society all together.

fourth? my greatest fear in the whole wide world is the guy who hides in the bathroom stall at work. in fact, i use the handicap stall each time because it is the last one in the row. this way? i can walk past all the other ones and check for creepy guy before i sit and pee. seriously.


the place i used to work at the same thing - a combination lock on the women's bathroom door but not the men's. i was told that there was a theft issue - someone stole toilet paper all the time. thing is, it was crappy 1-ply paper!

after being there for a few months, a guy came in and took the lock off. maybe the toilet paper used to be some deluxe brand and they switched it before i got there.

either that or there was a pervert too but didn't want to freak out all the women with that story?!


Watch out for mimes in the bathroom...they're very quiet.


I am totally going to have nightmares about mimes in public bathrooms tonight.

The eyeball thing? I would love to know the thought that proceeded it. Because clearly, at some point, you were thinking, "My eyeballs SHOULD be on the floor" and then you realized that they probably already were! What the?


Apparently, in Canada, it's the law that women's bathroom lock. So I have to carry a key to the bathroom (it's kindergarten all over again!)and if I lock it in there? I'm fucked for the rest of the day, until the cleaning crew retrieves it for the next morning.


I feel like I should start this comment with, "so this one time at band camp..."

So this time in grad school, we "forgot" to tell any incoming students that the bathroom door required a key, and if we saw any new faces desperately jerking at the locked handle, we'd shrug and say "some body must be in there" as if it were one stall instead of many behind the door. Yeah, cause if there's one thing about psych students, its that we're sick bastards.

Also, we're evidently bot funny. Yet I am somehow still compelled to post.


When I first started at my job, I had a Gross Secrutity Breach in the sense that some Creepy Guy was using my computer for some After Hours Porn Surfing. At one point the plan was to install a security camera over my desk in order to catch the Creepy Guy in the act of defiling my desk. So be glad that your company didn't tack in your ladies room.


you are one funny chick! glad i found you thru zoot. at my old office we had to have a key to get into the bathroom. men and women. (it was a bank building) we all had our own, so it wasn't a big deal. unless, you did what the office manager did and FLUSHED her keys down the toliet! i laughed so hard at that i almost peed! i shit you not. she flushed her keys!


Keys? ha! that's nothing! I flushed my cellphone!


As commanded, my dear queen of can find the whole embarrassing story of my 2nd most embarrassing moment of my life here:


Understand that your posts are supposed to be funny and as such, the comments probably should follow that trend, however, in all seriousness about the "Restroom Security" story and WHY they say you have it:

When I was in college, a friend and I used to go to the track and run after school every day. We would change in a bathroom at the school. One day, we walked in, someone was in the middle stall so I took the one on the right and my friend took the one on the left.

It was as I was putting on my shirt that I ran in that I happened to see some movement out of the corner of my eye. I had seen the middle stall person's head, covered in a wig, duck back down after just staring over the side at me.

After the initial 3 second shock, I got pissed. So I finished getting dressed, walked out of my stall and stood right in front of the middle stall door and talked to my friend who was still in the left stall. I wanted that bastard to know I knew and to prevent him from looking at my friend. In fact, I even said, 'C, do you ever get the feeling you are being watched?' To which she jokingly replied, "hahaha, why are you peeking at me?" UH. No. But I said, "I'M not.....but you never know who might be."

She came out of the stall, I motioned her to come outside the bathroom with me and I told her what happened. There was a classroom not 20 feet away and I was telling her to go get the instructor while I guarded the bathroom.

The guy, who was dressed up in women's clothing, complete with at least partial nylons, women's shoes and that damn wig, came hurtling out of the bathroom, practically bowled me over and flew out the doors to the outside of the school.

I ran after him but did not find him. We did report it to security and that was the end of that. Except that for awhile, wigs freaked me the f--- out.

So. That story probably is NOT made up but even so, I believe putting a lock on the bathroom door is ridiculous.

Bleh...sorry for taking up so much of your space.


The comments to this entry are closed.