Chicago, IL-On Thursday, an already stagnant conversation was mercifully put down like a sickly hound after an area dullard managed to muster arguably the most lukewarm joke in history. The discussion, which had all of the vigor and sophistication of the lips and buttholes comprising hotdog filler, involved an article that one of the parties had read online. Taking this is a que to wipe the drool from his chin and offer something utterly forgettable, Phillip Biggins sprang into action.
“So I says to her I says…”Yeah because if you read it online it HAS to be true!” That coupled with a well-timed eye roll and a self-satisfying grin gets them every time!” said Biggins of the woefully boring incident.
The statement that has functioned as a historical crutch for people with absolutely nothing to say, but still find themselves compelled to contribute.
“When I saw the polite smile and her visibly trying to think of an excuse for how to promptly exit the situation, I knew it was time to extend the joke by saying “Everything on the internet is true!”” continued Biggins, fondly recalling her sheepish smile, ripe with pity.
Biggins retreated to his studio apartment later that night and fell asleep by himself watching reruns of Two and a Half Men.
Why mix business with pleasure?
I stood peacefully at the urinal, in what seemed at the time, a perfectly empty bathroom. There’s something incredibly calming about the rare circumstance of a completely uninhabited office bathroom. Though it smelled only recently vacated, at least I wouldn’t have to engage in a cripplingly awkward urinal conversation or listen to the sound of someone making in one of the adjacent stalls.
As I indulged in the amicable sound of my steady stream pulverizing the urinal cake, I heard something from the far end of the bathroom. The distinct very sound of someone, or something, ripping toilet paper. Then the hesitant flushing of a toilet. Had someone been there the whole time? Did they poop with their legs elevated so no one could tag them by the shoes they were wearing? I had considered this, but lacked both the flexibility and concern that someone would see me pooping. Were they even pooping? My mind was spinning and I was becoming visibly agitated.
My once undisturbed sanctuary had been invaded by some heathen. The most confusing part was they appeared to be making a bee line for the urinal next to me. What the hell was going on in that stall? I racked my brain. I had to get the hell out of there, but I had four cups of coffee that morning. I made a valiant push but was unsuccessful. How was this piss taking this long? I need to get my prostate checked.
As the person approached the urinal we locked up in a reflective, deeply uncomfortable stare. I tried to think of something to diffuse the situation as the bathroom walls seemed to be crumbling around me. I glanced back at the stall he had just exited from and then back at him and painfully muttered “Why mix business with pleasure am I right?” Holy shit, what did that even mean? Was that a John Travolta acting like Nicolas Cage line from Face off? I had never said that before and it likely wasn’t applicable in this situation, or any situation for that matter. A deafening silence ensued that carried all the way through the washing of hands and exiting of the bathroom. I never talked to that person again.
What the hell were they doing in that stall?