the potty dance

At the hospital I work at we have automatic everything and hand sanitizer everywhere. As a result we have automatic flushing toilets (the last thing you want to think about is putting your hands all over the handle of a toilet that's been the victim of a scary spraying situation/been stomped on 1000 times). I know this is probably not a new technology to anyone, but it is not the "automatic" bit I am having trouble with. My friends what my problem is, is the timing of these flushing systems.

 On almost a daily basis I find myself flying into a stall and attempting to arrange the magic paper buffer on top of the toilet seat. This is usually fairly difficult for me as I am also doing the "potty dance" writhing around like a two-stepping snake on crack (shut up, it makes sense). I always have to use two of the complimentary hygienic barriers because I rip the first one in half while trying to separate the middle circle part from the section that actually covers the toilet seat. (If you do not complete this first step and attempt to use it, you will have boomerang reaction with whatever you were trying to keep off of your pants in the first place.) After arranging the covers on the toilet seat, you must carefully balance them so that they do not slip off and fall into the toilet water. This will cause you to begin the potty process all over. By the time I turn around and yank my pants to my knees I hear the dreaded clicking and "whoosh" of the toilet. All my hard work literally goes down the drain and I must start from the beginning, this time with my pants down.

A few times my bum has made contact with the toilet seat just before the mass of paper is sucked away and suddenly I know exactly what it must feel like to be using the loo right as the pilot of an airplane flushes everything out. What I can't help but wonder is how the censor bot sitting on top of the toilet is mistaking my routine of cleanliness while attempting not to wet myself for someone actually peeing into the toilet. Is the bot being overworked? Have its censors gone mad? Maybe I am just in the slow category when it comes to getting my tush on the seat. In any case I will continue to perfect the potty process until one day I dance so much I acquire the thigh muscles to hover my self above the toilet seat.

i hope peeing is less complicated at your work.

shamefully obsessed

The thing about puffy Cheetos besides the fact that the orange dust accompanied with the tasty snack stains your fingers, clothing, and all furniture in a close vicinity is that they are addictive. Also, it is not a snack you immediate think of when choosing a terrible-for-you-but-absolutely-delicious snack. Right away my mind skips to sweets: peanut butter m&m's, milano cookies, reese's peanut butter cup blizzards. This puffy snack makes it attack at Superbowl parties and 4th of July celebrations. It was at a similar event where my taste buds were captivated.

Mistakenly, I purchased a rather large sized bag of puffy Cheetos twists, far superior to their straight counterpart in my opinion, for a sweet 16 party. (The large bag was warranted, there were seven girls.) I may have had one or seven of those tasty twisters, and ever since the only food that has been on my brain (except for chimichangas, which lets get real, can't really be surpassed by much. except for maybe a fairytale brownie sunday...) is puffy Cheetos. Even the straight ones. Clayton literally had to pull me away from a display of Cheeto sale items set up seemingly to tempt my weakness for junk food last week on a beer run.

Note to self: Last sentence may contradict itself....

Anyway, since last Thursday I have been dodging the bags of orange goodness. Lord knows I would open a bag to have "a couple" and the entire contents would be finished in under an hour. Despite my futile attempts to replace the cheesy snack with popchips I still find myself day dreaming about consuming handfuls of Cheetos and then riding off on the back of Chester Cheeto's motorbike (I know he isn't technically featured with a motorbike on the packaging, but those sunglasses give it all away) and into a smoky orange sky. 

 But today my friends, is a day of weakness. For fear of my job, health, and general safety of others I have every intention of marching into the grocery store and stopping only until the largest bag of Cheeto twisters is safe within my death grip. Maybe then the weird dreams will stop...

i hope you are this passionate about food.