going potty for dummies

In theory, we were potty trained between the ages of 1-3 and from then on we are supposed to know all the do's and don'ts of bathroom etiquette. But every time I walk into a public restroom I continue to be amazed and horrified by the lack of potty know how. Thus, I feel compelled to post a step by step mini manual on how to correctly use a public bathroom, for those of you who suck at it.

I am only capable of sharing the female perspective, since I usually don't use the men's restroom, but that doesn't mean that I haven't! Hey, I will not deny that girls take forever sometimes...I was practically forced to use the men's room every time I did it. All I can say to the fellas is, please, hold your pecker into the toilet when you take a leak. It's not that hard. You're lucky you don't have to sit down and wipe your ass every time you pee, the least you can do is hold your wiener somewhat upright. The guys bathroom is so rank smelling because of you lazy fuckers who spray the whole place with your urine. And wash your filthy hands. I don't want you handling your junk and passing me a mint with penis residue on your hands.

Girls. First things first. Use a seat cover. Please. I was once a fan of the hover method, but that's what seat covers are for. No, you are not going to get AIDS off a toilet seat stupid. No, you will not get herpes or gonhorrea either. Unless you dunk your hiney in a toilet full of poop, I think you will be ok. If you are in a hurry and you simply must do the hover method, please have the decency to wipe your piss off the seat and floor when you miss the bowl. Do you think the next person who uses that stall wants to wipe up your piss? Who do you think you are? I have been bamboozled by you before, when I unsuspectingly put down my little toilet seat cover on your unholy fluids and mopped them up with my ass. No fair! Why do I or anybody else have to sit on your pee pee? Have some manners.

This one should go without saying, but I still encounter people who are ignorant in the ways of wiping. Please, please, please, wipe front to back. Always. Remember ladies, we are more complex because we have more holes. You don't want to be spreading anything left in the nether regions from back there to the front. That's all to the bad. If you wipe back to front, STOP IT RIGHT NOW. Right this instant. Perhaps you will stop getting urinary tract infections when you stop wiping the wrong way.

If you happen to be making a doody in a public restroom, which we are all forced to do at one time or another, there are plenty of ways to go about it in order make your experience a successful one. For starters, try laying down a seat cover inside the toilet bowl as well as on the seat. Which reminds me, if you are taking a dump, the toilet seat cover is mandatory here. No excuses. You'd have to be an idiot to take a shit in the hover position. That has disaster written all over it. Sorry if I insulted anyone's intelligence with that one, but you can never be too careful. Anyhow, the extra toilet seat cover inside the toilet bowl is particularly useful in cutting down on two things: the noise factor and the skid factor. Nothing chaps my hide more than walking into a stall and finding someone else's art work in there. Do you really think I don't care about seeing your tird leftovers smeared all over the toilet bowl when I walk in there? Good god woman, look at what happens after you flush the toilet. Don't be so careless. If you make skid marks, don't condemn yourself, it happens to the best of us. Just flush the toilet as many times as it takes for your poop stains to go away. It's that easy. But wait! Before you flush away those shit tracks, please...throw your toilet paper in the bowl. Don't save it in the trash can for someone else to look at. That's just gross. It bad enough that you save your dirty paper, but some of you leave it in the trash face up, for immediate observation. No one wants to see the consistency or shade of your excrement. Just get rid of it. Unless you are in a third world country that lacks a strong indoor plumbing system, always flush your evidence. And make sure it goes down too. Don't just flush and walk away, because sometimes it take a couple of flushes to make sure all your garbage goes down the pipes. Unless some brave soul takes it upon themselves to flush your filth down the toilet for you, you are pretty much leaving that bathroom stall relatively incapacitated for the rest of the day. That's not tight.

Speaking of flushing, we have this thing called "the courtesy flush", which is always great. If you know you ate something funky and this trip to the bathroom will school you on what evil smells like, please feel free to flush the toilet the instant your dookie hits the water. I know we can't always bolt off the toilet, wipe (FRONT TO BACK) and flush before the stank permeates the entire restroom, so this is why we use the courtesy flush. Number two is a little more complicated than number one, so let's handle it with a little more caution. And honestly girls, as much as we like to think it doesn't, we know our shit stinks. However, that doesn't mean the rest of the world needs to know. We can still keep it hush hush.

livestrong or livetrendy?

I'm getting pretty sick of those little yellow Livestrong bracelets. They are virtually everywhere, and it wouldn't be so bad if they were worn because of the true meaning behind them. No, siree it's become a trend. It's hip to wear the fucking thing. Everybody jump on the bandwagon! C'mon, you don't want to be left out now do you? You don't want to be the only one not wearing a Livestrong bracelet now, get with it. Apparently, one of my co-workers made well over $800 selling those little yellow bracelets on eBay to people overseas. Suckas! And to make things worse, now you have all these other Livestrong wannabe bracelets on the market. Anything to make a buck. I guess I'm just pissed because I didn't think of it first. But anyway, supporting a good cause is commendable, but trying to be cool by wearing that shitty bracelet is bafoonesque.

mexi mosh rifa

It was a freeze frame of a chaotic moment held in time. With this picture I was able to glimpse into whom my boyfriend was at that time in his life. I thought I pretty much had him figured out (don't we all), but I was relatively surprised by the image captured in that photograph; he had quite a wild side. His hair was bleached blond and buzz cut, a brash contrast to his currently long, flowing, jet black locks. Actually, his features are so dark that his hair wasn't even blond, it was more like a fusion of yellow and orange. He was at a concert, body flung atop a group of onlookers. Crowd surfing was something I always contemplated, but never dared to do. Those who opt the risk of being thrown/dropped/violated by a group of strangers for mere thrills are very particular in my book. In this moment I discovered that my boyfriend was one of these people, as he seemed to be loving every minute of it, with his body surrendered to the crowd and his facial expression priceless. His wide eyes were bright and his tongue hung completely out of his mouth, while his fists pumped in the air.

So this picture was taken at a concert in Tijuana a few years back. I've never attended a concert in Tijuana and I had no idea how rowdy things could get. However, I got a taste of the Tijuana concert scene when I saw Cafe Tacuba, from which I've derived that Mexicans can mosh harder than the Whities can.

I'm not unfamiliar with the mosh pit. I got my mosh pit cherry popped in 1996, when I attended a Soundgarden concert. I was a wee 16 year old, with no idea of how a general admission concert worked. Rocket From the Crypt opened up for Soundgarden, and they are such a high energy band that the moment they stepped on stage, all hell broke loose. I remember being flung left, then right, then being smothered and consumed by a merciless audience of metal-heads. I had no choice but to get out of there and view the show from afar. That or be stomped into a state of cardiac arrest.

Nowadays things are different and I've learned to claw my way to the front. What I love about the mosh pit is that although it's male dominated, it's pretty much fair game whether you are male or female. Division of gender and its stereotypical roles is out the window; whether you are a guy or girl, if you don't watch yourself you will get pummeled. It is literally a "survival of the fittest" environment. My physical features do limit me to a certain capacity of course. I'm not stupid enough to start fighting with guys in the audience, but if I have to, I can hold my own. For example, once a guy kicked me in the head while crowd surfing, so in the process of helping pass him forward, I grabbed his balls and squeezed them as hard as I could for as long as I could. He wasn't pleased but he never kicked me again.

So I thought I had been in some pretty rough crowds at concerts before I saw Cafe Tacuba, but I was blown away after this one. Everything prior was child's play. Let me just say that after this concert I lost one toe nail and one finger nail. Usually you lose a shoe or something, but me, I lost attachments to my appendages. My toe nail completely fell off, due to a stampede of boys and girls doing a hoe down on my foot. This audience was relentless and merciless. Some guy actually grabbed a hold of my pony tail and starting yanking me around as he pleased. I had to wrestle my way out of his kung-foo grip. For the first time in my concert going experience, the entire floor in front of the stage was a massive mosh pit, not just the usual centrally located smallish circle. That's probably because Cafe Tacuba both rocks and kicks much ass live. They kept it real and played their old as well as their new stuff, which I always appreciate. The lead singer even stage dived into the audience, which is always a treat. After all these years of touring, Cafeta still has that energy and appreciation for their fans, which was stupendous to watch. The intensity with which the audience responded to their performance further fueled the intensity with which they played; reciprocity is great indeed. Imagine an entire audience of people simultaneously jumping up and down, pushing, dancing, swaying to and fro, for a period of 2+ hours. It was just plain fantastic.

So in retrospect, I found myself feeling very much like I had been there with my old boyfriend at that TJ rock concert captured in his picture. Now I know what a hard core rock show is really like. I would've predicted that a Spanish rock show would have been filled with socialites wearing button down shirts, fancy shoes and gallons of cologne, but I was proven wrong yet again. I never knew the paisas could rock so hard. Never underestimate the minority, because they will usually out do you.

chicken shit

Did you know that chickens shit, piss and procreate all through the same hole? That's some very basic body function going on there. Not very sanitary.

Humans have more holes and they are more complex. Thus it's safe to say that women are even more complex than men, because they have more holes. Yay.

reality: the only obstacle to happiness and yet the only thing on tv

This culture of ours is voyeuristic. A bunch of peeping toms is what we are. Every fucking tv show is based on reality. There are so many! This is no fad. If this was a fad, it would have died years ago, along with acid washed jeans. Will reality tv ever die? Oh, I don't think so. Reality tv is here to stay. It's a sickness. And we love it. We love the smuttiness of it all.

Today I was sucked into the Britney's Spears circus hour, called "Chaotic". Wow, can you say train wreck? I still don't tire of asking myself what the hell happened to that girl. I always knew she was a dingbat, but she has since plummeted to new lows. Not only does she have shit for brains, but she's trashy, fat and blotchy now. What a devastating turn life can take eh? One hot minute you are a chart topping, sought after, hot piece of ass that's plastered on every billboard. The next minute you are an obnoxious, chain smoking bozo, swinging from the gonads of a semi-illiterate, toe tapping ass clown. Your diet consists of cheetos and Starbucks frappaccinos. You sold your home movies to UPN for a profit, because you're so fat and bloated that you can't continue touring like you used to. You are a fucking burnout.

Hulk Hogan's testicles reflated since he stopped using roids and he was able to make a daughter somewhere along the road.

Digression...did you know that Arnold Schwarzenegger had experienced shrinkage from his use of roids so he decided to remedy the problem by tying weights to his dick? My Animal Physiology teacher told me. Yes, that's my governer.

Anyway, now Hulk has a reality show called "Hogan Know's Best", where he coaches his daughter along the way as she attempts to become a rising star in the music biz. Hulk is a bit overprotective. See I never had that kind of a closeness with my father where he was all over me 24/7, and at the risk of sounding like a hater, it's sick. This weeks episode features a flustered and somewhat aggro Hulk, when he finds that his daughter is "beginning to date". The obsessively overprotective daddy role Hulk is playing is a bit much, even for him. He threatens to break the arm of any boy who touches his daughter and tries to track where she is with radar surveillance. This only leads me to believe that he in fact wants to fuck his daughter. He seems like the type.

I refuse to watch The Real Gilligans Island. That's just pathetic.

I think this season of The Surreal Life will be a good one, but how do you top a belligerently drunk and naked Mini-Me pissing on the floor from his scooter? You put that black bitch Amarosa on there, that's how.

This is my synopsis of mindless tv for the day. I wasted about 3 hours of my life watching this crap earlier, so I figured I might as well do something productive with it. Productive, as in talk shit. Works for me.

farethee well testosterone!

If you're a guy and you decide to pretty up your face by plucking your eyebrows, stop it. Right now. It's not attractive. It's gay. You look disgusting. I can tell you do it, too. It's not subtle, not subtle by any means. I can spot you out a mile away. I will stop in my tracks when I see you and I will cringe. You don't look better this way. Trust me. You look obscene. You are a man. Society says it's acceptable for you to have hair on your face. If you don't believe me, go ahead and pluck your eyebrows if you must, but I warned you. I promise everyone thinks you're disturbing. I promise you are scary. Please stop it. I beg you...