Urinating swine.

Hopefully straightened out a damn pig aged in his early 20’s who was using the handicap stall rather than one of the five available urinals (or two other bowls) take a sloppy piss.

He couldn’t even bother to shut the door so when went in to make use of the facilities I had to see his imbecilic back rather than an available commode open for business.

When he came out I had a brief, calm, but moderately stern talk with him about it.  He apologized and I don’t think he’ll be doing it again.

Or maybe he will. I noticed he didn’t wash his hands afterward despite significant splashing. Judging from the puddle I’d suspect the doctor who did his circumcision cut at an angle.

To whom it may concern:

Here’s a hint. Urinals are the first place you go to take a standing leak. If you need more privacy than a divider can give, go to one of the non-handicapped stalls to do it as things become available.

Only use a handicapped stall if there are no others available or if you have a real handicap. They exist for a *reason* and you really don’t want to be that person.

Trust me on this, dear journal.

mummyshark:

And with this photoset, I’m having a flashback. The kind of flashback that only someone too old for Tumblr — like me — could have!

I saw Aliens in theaters in ‘86. I was 5 or 6. My parents took me, for reasons I still cannot fathom. They certainly didn’t go for my sake, but it’s not like they were the type to want to see a movie like this.

Whatever the case, taking a kid that young to see Aliens was hilariously questionable, and I spent the entirety of the film ABSOLUTELY FUCKING TERRIFIED. Paralyzed, silent, crazy fear. “The world is crumbling around me" type of fear.

Seeing Ripley in the big robo suit sparks a great memory, though. My mother tried to convince me that she was a “Transformer,“ hoping to get me to look at the screen for the first time in an hour. It was not an effective strategy, since shots of Ripley in the suit were generally paired with shots of a giant drooling monster alien, waiting to jump off the screen and eat me.

Course, time heals wounds, and now I have such love for the film, and that experience. It’s the kind of internal anguish I hope I’ll have whenever I’m about to see a horror movie, but never do.