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I never expect a pleasant experience when I use the work bathroom. It’s the size of a gym locker, has random stains that make me think it's been the scene of several rapes/murders, and reeks of stomach viruses and shame. It’s also filled with certain assholes (no pun intended) acting as if they’re in their own personal bathroom, more comfortable and at home than Tom Cruise in a gay bar. They turn the place into their own fucking private sanctuary, carrying along a cute little bag that's bursting with supplies, sure to keep them healthy and happy forever and ever.
Well, I hate these fucking people, because brushing your teeth in public is flat-out fucking gross. And flossing is even worse. If public brushing is Pol Pot, then flossing is Josef Stalin. When I walk into the men's room at work and come across someone brushing and flossing away with their disgusting mouth wide open and shit flicking onto the mirror and their little baggy of hygienic tools sitting on the sink ledge, I often times have to fight off the urge to sap them with a push-broom.
Why do I care if some douchebag decides to take extra-special care of his body, you ask? I don't know—I guess it has something to do with me being CRAZY. But the hate exists, so let’s run with it. Brushing? Flossing? Gargling? Nail-Clipping? What's next - whipping out your dick and doing some hedge-trimming? Why not install a fucking shower? Let's turn this place into a fucking gym locker-room. You and your good-time buddies can whip each other with towels and make racist remarks about the cleaning lady. It will be a fucking blast!
And these assholes always act so nonchalant while in the process. Sometimes they try to talk to me while they're flossing. What? I can't understand you, you fucking asshole, you have a 2x4 sticking out of your throat and it sounds like you’re deaf. Oh, I'm sorry, you wanted to discuss the Mets rotation woes? Okay, let me stop pissing so we can chat, because nothing is more pleasant than watching you clean your fucking mouth with a toilet-brush while we’re surrounded by the smell of paint-peeling shit.
There’s nothing more awful than being forced to watch someone remove decomposing steak from his teeth while you wash your hands. I don’t ever want to see you brush your teeth—what am I your fucking wife? And if you can’t find five spare minutes to cut your nails at home, then please do us all a favor and walk into traffic, because you are the worst person ever at time management.
Here's a stern warning for all you fucking champions of cleanliness: stop subjecting me to your fucking grooming habits or else I'm going to steal your toothbrush, use it to clean all the dog shit off my shoes, the floor, and the entire run of 48th street, and then return it to your little fucking baggie while you're out having a blast chomping through some spare-ribs and asparagus.