Back off!

So check this out. There are certain rules that apply to the men’s bathroom. This is for those of you who aren’t aware. These rules are “unspoken” rules.

First of all, when a man enters the restroom, NO TALKING ALLOWED!!! I’ll talk shit to dudes if they’re my good friends, but if I don’t know the dude who’s urinating next to me, I’m not trying to have a dick-in-hand conversation.

There’s the type of guy who comes in the restroom when I’m taking a leak and he’s trying to get close. It’s not a sexual thing; it’s not even a gay thing.

Here’s a scenario: I enter the bathroom and hold the door for a coworker. I don’t know the guy, so I don’t wanna talk to him. Courtesy is my only intention. In this particular bathroom, there are three urinals. Again for the sake of courtesy I take the one on the right which is lower to the floor, and designed for a shorter man. I take aim and am prepared to let loose when all of a sudden this guy steps to the middle urinal! What the fuck?! Get outta here ya creep!! These are the thoughts racing through my head as I hold my composure trying to keep a straight face, desperately trying to squeeze out even a drop to combat my now shy bladder.

Then it happens.

“Boy, thank goodness it’s Friday, huh? T.G.I.F. Ha ha!”

“Huh. For sure.” I respond awkwardly. In my head I’m yelling at him “Thank God it’s - FUCK OFF SO I CAN PEE!”

So it’s like this. If there are three urinals, stay away from the middle one. I’m not gonna get into the ones that don’t have partitions. That’s a whole other “What were the builders of this establishment thinking?” type of discussion.

I could go on for days about this stuff, but I just wanted to get this item out. The Men’s room is not a place to meet new people and make new friends!


- Eric Was Here -

Bike!

It's 7:45 am and I'm trying to fall back asleep. I can't do it. All I can think about is this new bike I got the other day. I got it from a friend for $30 and it needed a little bit of fixing so I took it to the shop around the corner from my house yesterday morning.

The shop doesn't open on Saturdays until 9:00 am so I've got all this time on my hands now. It's a "beach cruiser." All I can think about is how excited I am to go for a bike ride. I've been asking all my friends who have bikes if they wanna do a night bike ride because I work during the day.

Tonight after work my Dad wants me to come out to Vallejo to meet his new "girlfriend," but I'd rather be riding my bike. Because of the "meet" I'll need my car after work so I have to drive to work. I'd rather take BART and ride my bike. I have to go work my normal 8 hour shift. I'd rather be riding my bike.

I guess what I'm getting at Bay Area is this: Live with childlike enthusiasm. I'm twenty five and all I wanna do is check out on bike rides.

ABSTINANCE! VIOLATION!

So, I'm sitting in a meeting on Saturday morning trying to follow the presentations on agenda items at the Pacific Region Service Assembly. The meeting ends at 9:15 and I proceed outside for some fresh air amongst the smokers. I approach a pack of three older gentlemen armed with their canes and their handlebar mustaches.







Eric: "Can I bum a smoke?"



Old Dude: "Sure, but watch out, they're all natural."



Eric: (fake smile, light cigarette) "Thanks."





I'll back up a little. During the meeting my thoughts are extremely combative and arguable. Almost as if my thoughts are like a shark and a whale having a debate while swimming through the oceans of my imagination.





Shark: "Hey you should hella go smoke. It's been hella long."


Whale: "Don't do it. Think about what we're trying to be."


Shark: "Cigarettes are hella good."


Whale: "I agree, but after even one cigarette you've got that smokey taste in your mouth. Ew."


Shark: "Remember the feeling of the smoke hitting you in the chest. How it tastes. Mmm."



Whale: "Fuck man! You're right. We can just quit cold turkey tomorrow."



It's so amazing. I love the taste, the feel, the harshness, the smootheness, everything about this experience. The feeling of the nicotine going to my head and I feel a care free sense of tranquility. Immediately following the first cigarette, I proceed to bum another one. It doesn't have the same effect. It's almost kinda gross. That is, so I'm told, what happens when one smokes crack cocaine. This action is repeated with the intention of feeling that original feeling of "Ahh."

This all occurred two days ago. This time what I'm doing different is no nicotine. I haven't had any nic-gum or any patches.

How to end the thought?

Smoke 'em if you got 'em.