also, Mr. Lahey is absurd. on a scale of 1-10, how does it feel to be married to (and have a child with!) someone who just used the term “butt cobra”?

(PS- Thanks Brookem! A secret is that it is just from Target. They have it in like 15 different colors. go get one!)

sara- ooo copier would be extra annoying.

matt- i ordered it from the office max just to copy you! weird!

TF- yes, i forgot to mention you sit right on the other side of those printers. love. never leave me.

TO- office mommies are.the.worst.

JD- decorate! let me know if you need ideas.

SO- ::blushes::

shorty- hehe i was tricky with those hearts… remember how i even got one inside your phone?

jessica- made my day :)

fancy- I am nothing without Chris at Surviving Myself. nothing. also, your blog is amazing.

The Lawyer- you are my most favorite cousin and my most dedicated council… i will do as many scientific charts as you want.

and finally:

Mr. Lahey- … oh dear god. i am speechless. i almost wish i didn’t know who you were, but your email gives you away sir. i don’t think anyone would believe me if i told them. i just want to know what you were neglecting to do at work so you could sit here and write this. i am amazed and i want a comment of this caliber on every post from now on.

From my office (which share) I can periodically here the trickle of water or running of a stream. Wow, you must think I have a corner office with a window overlooking a lazy river. I have none of the above. At other times I hear a muffled plop of water as if a young Obama support is pitching pennies into a fountain; as he wishes for change. Wow, possibly you believe I’m next to Buckingham Fountain in a high rise on the Magnificent Mile. I’m not. At other times, I hear what could be described as a wave or spray. Am I near the ocean you ask? No, but occasionally water seeps through the wall. At other times I hear exclamations such as “AARGH” or “Oh my god!”, usually they are unintelligible, though once I heard “Doc, THAT came out of me. Is that normal?” What were they taking pictures and instant messaging with their proctologist. Let me answer that I thought, I’m no MD, but that is most definitely not normal.

Yes, I’m sure you’ve guessed what is adjacent to my office. I live in a part of the building prone to shitstorm tornados. The bathroom frequented outside my office is popular with the after lunch, “I just ate a cheesesteak”, crowd. Between 9-10 AM (possibly the Large (I refuse to say Venti or Grande to perky people) Starbucks coffee induces some reaction in the duodenum). I call this time slot the “AM BM”. I religiously put on my iPod and crank Ben Folds. This doesn’t stop the waft of air however. It slinks around the corner until I suddenly my nostril goes into convulsions. On reflex I usually look down to make sure I haven’t shat myself (I never have, but my friend Matt did). Then I look at my office mate. I never see a reaction. He’s fairly stoic however and Romanian.

People, the 1/2 inch plasterboard between the toilet and my desk does not attenuate the flatulence, the splashing, the dripping, flapping orifices, or utter detonations that occur inside your toilet. Possibly I’m a bit sensitive. I can’t even bear to listen to the Sam Adams commercials where a beer is poured into a frosty mug with 6 inches of foam.

What can I do you ask? If you are going to build a poo cabin, simply shut the door after you blow up the bathroom. And if you are really an eager beaver, turn on the fan after playing with the butt cobra. Too much to ask? Apparently it is.

I’m not trying to embarrass anyone in particular. I, thank god, cannot see who enters and exits like a junior high hall monitor. It could be the old secretary that serving up some soft serve, or the janitor making a cleveland steamer or the doc himself watching the Jamaican bobsled team

Sometimes, because I’m republican, I got into the bathroom after the “dust has cleared”, turn on the fan, the light and then leave shutting the door behind me. F*ck you Al gore and the environment, so I’m wasting some electricity, “contributing to global warming” oh no!. But the gas leaking from the bathroom puts a farm of cows to shame, and I think its killing me. This trick deters the category 1 and 2 storms, but the monster Category 3 and 4’s, they shuffle down the hall, as if taking too big a step will prematurely initiate the shitstorm, and knock on the door with the sort of authority that communicates the urgency of the situation. I can HEAR the door shut, I HEAR the toilet seat slam down, I HEAR the zipper unzip, I HEAR the toilet creak, and then I HEAR the detonation and I take the last gasp of fresh air before my office becomes ground zero for the latest shitstorm.