Volume Two of Wyatt: The Washroom Whisperer
I’m at the point where I really could give a lesser shit about the judgmental glares I get on my way out of the restroom.
No: I don’t wash my hands after using the bathroom.
Feel free to recoil from shaking hands or bumping fists with me—I find most of these encounters with other people awkward, uncomfortable, and unnecessary anyway. I don’t need to reassure you I have no weapon—I’d rather you think I do.
Here’s why you shouldn’t panic anyway:
1) I haven’t used a public restroom to take a shit since 1998. That’s because it was 3rd grade and it was either in the toilet or in my sweatpants. It was terrifying and I swore I’d never do it again. The icy feeling of the toilet seat on my mini-buttocks will haunt me for the rest of my life. Therefore, rest assured that these delicate sausage fingers o’mine have never come within sniffing distance of anything No. 2 related if I’ve used a public restroom.
2) I love automatic toilets. I remember going to New Orleans and there being only automatic toilets, which makes me think they should put that in the tourism brochures: “The Crescent City, Mardi Gras, beignets, our toilets are automatic.” I am willing to sacrifice my hamstrings and hip flexors to plié myself into kicking a toilet or urinal lever down.
3) I generally avoid touching door handles or door latches or locks or anything in general. Faucets and soap handle dispensers too. And don’t give me that bullshit about automatic faucets—80% of them go on for approximately 0.8 milliseconds and then shut off for five minutes, requiring intricate sign language to re-activate like an Xbox Kinect receiver dipped in lard. I like at IKEA that they have those cool rubber circle things you’re supposed to put your elbow or fist or left thigh through to effectively open to door without having to touch it. Although if some weird elbow STD develops, we’re all fucked. Bottom line: doors I can kick or bodynudge open are welcome!
4) I generally avoid touching myself in general. It’s not that I don’t like to—far from it. But I can assure you that if I do, it’s cleaner than anything I’d have to come into contact with in the restroom—and I have the testing results to prove it.
So, if you folks generally adhere to the Set of Four above—you have nothing to fear. I, too, was intimidated by the glares of judgmental strangers when I skipped the voodoo washing rituals on my way out the door. Soon, I grew a pair and learned one of life’s most valuable lessons, the venerable notgivingafuck.
Now go, my children, and spread your clean-hand evangelism across the land!
yes, they officially have a fucking global day for everything now. there’s only 365 of those a year, people…make em count!