13-17th Feb: Just floating along

“Love is in the air”, as well as on the floor, the shop windows, the restaurants, the street, the public toilets; it was everywhere due to the vastly over-rated Valentines day being at the start of the week. I could come across as a bit of a curmudgeon due to me being single but even people in relationships dislike the day. Everyone I know seems to celebrate it the day before or after, to avoid paying excessive money for average food and to avoid being surrounded by creepily in love people. This is alright in theory, however, if this is what everyone’s doing then presumably you then get surrounded by all these people on the 13th and 15th. If this is the case then the restaurants should keep their prices high for a three day period. I may well be over-thinking it. Something far more noteworthy happened during the week, which I need to tell you about…

….I went for a Friday lunch with my friend Kai Humphries (Google him and you’ll probably see a picture of his tattooed white arse), who was in town for the weekend with some friends. We went to this very nice but over-priced American diner type place where they actively encourage children to be there and the chef says stuff like “I suggest the chicken pie”; to me this always implies that everything else he cooked, is a bit shit.

I went for a pre-meal trip to the toilet. Despite always being packed they have the rather awkward, one toilet for men and women system. As someone was inside the cubicle and I’m not a weirdo, I waited just outside for them to finish. This does, however, mean you have a two second uncomfortable stare off with the producer of the smell you’re about to walk into. There was now a queue system where a woman was waiting to go in after me, so I was fully primed to be extra quick so there could be no ambiguity about my deployment of a number one. The person that exited before me was a very sheepish looking eight year old girl. Why was she looking so sheepish I hear you ask? Probably something to do with the massive floater she’d left in there for me.

As I stared at this chunky heap of regret, it dawned on me that the woman after me would definitely think this was my handy work. Therefore, I urinated as hard as humanly possible onto this briquette, to break it up: to no avail. I had one saving grace, the flush: no luck. Then instinct took over and I’ve no idea why out of all my options I thought this was the best one: I wrapped toilet paper around my hand, picked it up and threw it in the bin. Feel free to vomit on your keyboard. I then used up all the soap that has ever existed on the planet washing my hands. This cleaning process took so long that the woman behind me probably thought I had in fact crimped one out.

When I returned to the table and told the story about how I had no other option but to do what I did after being stuck between a cronk and hard place. Kai replied simply with “why didn’t you just put paper on top of it? It would have then flushed away”. I did not know you could do this. I wish I had already known this. I wasn’t particularly hungry thanks to the eight year old girl that tried to frame me for leaving a dead body in the toilet. If you’re reading this little girl, thanks for ruining my chicken pie.