Today’s entry is short and sweet. Why? Well, even thinking about it actually makes me physically ill. I was on a flight home from LA, and had just come back from the restroom. As you know, airplane bathrooms are pretty tragic to begin with, nothing good happens in there. I never understood the whole Mile High Club thing. You want to screw a Mile High, have sex in Denver. I’d have an easier time getting turned on at an assisted living facility than an airplane bathroom.
Anyway, when you gotta go, you gotta go. So I went. I walked in, looked down at the toilet seat and what did I see? A pubic hair. The nerve of someone leaving this behind. It’s honestly worse than something being left IN the toilet because at least you can immediately flush it and move on. I quickly turned away from it, but knowing it was there was enough to drive me over the edge. I mean, it’s such a small place, didn’t the person it used to be attached to see it when they went to flush? It was so long, how could they miss it?? Did they see it and just not care??? The mere length of it alone could lead me in a whole other direction but no, I must stop. The granola bar I ate about 10 minutes ago is quickly creeping up my esophagus just thinking about it. I’ve got to move on.
Today’s Douchebag of the Day is to whom that wiry pube used to be attached. I curse you, Wiry Pube Passenger, and the moment that pube escaped from your vagaygay or shlong.
