Teepee!

As I have previously stated in the last blog, I really enjoy spending time in the bathroom. Being a mother of a rambunctious 2 year old, and a very needy, clingy husband, sometimes bathroom time is the only real private time I have.

I really enjoy the atmosphere in a bathroom. Mine, at home, is pretty messy, I'll admit. My kitten thinks it's fun to kick his litter onto the floor and spread it out all over my throw rugs. I also habitually forget to take out the trash in there, but that's neither here nor there. It's bigger than the bathrooms I used to frequent in Provo, but space isn't the determining factor to me regarding how I feel about a bathroom. No, as long as I can stand before the mirror and make funny faces at myself, and so long as I have plenty of room to move about whilst utilizing the can, can enjoy a good book, and I have plenty of space in my shower, I really could care less about the bathroom's appearance.

Smell is something while at home that I tend to ignore. It's going to stink once in awhile! Besides, my husband can't help the fact that his bowels rival the bog of eternal stench. I grew up with a brother who had the same issue, so I can hold my breath, breathe through my shirt, invest in some odor-reducing spray, and deal. No, smell does not determine my happiness with my personal loo.

Toilet paper is the deciding factor. T.P., otherwise called Bathroom/toilet tissue, loo paper, lavatory paper, shit tickets, mountain money, TP, toilet roll, striking paper, loo roll, bumf, bumfodder, bog roll, date roll, and arse wipe. The lovely, modern invention that serves to make our lives just a little bit better. As Hamlet stated, Aye, there's the rub.

There are so many kinds, brands, and varieties. Each boasts they can get the job done. Some boast softness, others strength, some brands even put out wet wipes! In this blog, I will discuss with you my feelings regarding the use of this modern convenience.

Growing up in America, I believe we are raised to think that T.P. grows on trees. Cavemen, way back in the day, used leaves, and now-a-days we are advanced enough to make soft, gentle paper to baby our behinds. For a little history, T.P. was invented, as says Wikipedia, in China. Growing up, specifically in the state of Vermont, the state of the true public outhouse, we know the truth. Before there was paper, there was the almighty stick.

The Shit Stick was community property- an entire family utilizing the same contraption. Its basic composition was a piece of wood long enough to scrape the poo from your brown eye. This is similar to the Bottom Wiper.

Those with limited mobility, or those with unusually short arms, such as commonly seen on people with achondroplasia, often find it helpful to wrap the toilet paper around a bottom wiper, which is a plastic instrument with a tong-like clasp at one end to accommodate the toilet paper and a long handle at the other to allow the person to reach his bottom. The person wraps the toilet paper several times around the clasp, and after wiping, can easily eject the toilet paper into the toilet without having to touch the paper. Folding bottom wipers are available, and can be easily stored or carried in a purse.
--Wikipedia

And yet, The Shit Stick is nothing more than a smooth stick with the bark removed. The bark must be removed, unless you like that kind of thing, and who does? I would not want to walk around with a piece of bark giving me rectal splinters. It was stored inside the outhouse, in a small bucket of water when one was finished scraping. A common joke among Vermonters was to store the stick, poo end up, which has led to the common phrase Getting the short end of the stick.

As you can imagine, use of the shit stick was not the most sanitary practice. Anal infections were common, but at least it's cleaner than the whole family reusing the same old rag. Using paper for wiping ones arse was not unheard of, but expensive for most people, in the day where paper was expensive to make, and often reused as much as was possible.

The more widespread use of toilet paper came into practice in the United States around the same time as The Old Farmer's Almanac, which was around 1792. It even came with a hole in the book, so as to hang on a hook. People would read about what was going on in the world of farming, and then wipe up. The availability of newspaper also made it easier to have a clean bottom.

Enough on the history of toilet paper. If you really care, you'll read the whole Wikipedia article. Anywho, what I was getting to is that there are many different kinds of toilet paper. This has sparked some serious sociological, as well as amazing anthropological debate, with many questions such as what kind of t.p. do you use?

I was raised on Scotts. It's rough, tough, and still 1000 sheets per roll. Give me the old-fashioned anal pleasure of Scotts regular toilet paper. It lasts forever. It's durable. It's relatively absorbent. It's very cheap. I may gallivant around with the sophisticated swagger of The Modern Girl, but I am an old fashioned girl at heart. Scotts toilet paper is second to none, excepting sandpaper, of course, which would be great, too.

I have tried the soft stuff. It just doesn't cut it! I can't stand that fruity quilted crap... it doesn't get it clean at all, and leaves lint in my buttcrack. How can you call yourself clean when you're walking around with bits of T.P. stuck to those weirdly wiry bum-hairs?

The price is a strong factor in my decision to choose specific brands of T.P. Why would I pay $8-$12 a pack, for some "soft" toilet paper? It is a rip off in and of itself because the softer and thicker the paper, the less of it there really is on the roll. And don't fall for those "extender" kits that Charmin advertises... there is LESS on that roll than on a roll of Scotts, and more empty space between each go-round because of the texture. Also, keep in mind that the bulkier the paper, the harder it is to store in your home until needed.

Choosing your toilet paper also depends on your personal bowel functions for any given day. I will never know in advance if I come down with a case of Montezuma's revenge! I never know the shape, size, color, or consistancy on any given day. I'm not a Shit Psychic. I've found, for the predictable as well as the surprise, the hard, lightly-waxed, un-marked, plain old white stuff functions just fine.

One thing people tend to put out of mind, regarding ones choice of T.P. is the impact of the use of said roll on ones plumbing. My sister once remarked to me about these terrors, stating that the plumbing at our Aunt's house was such that she could use a very small amount of the crappy, soft T.P. before stopping up the potty. There, of course, can be exceptions to that. My brother once related to me the personal satisfaction he gained from flushing our grandparents' toilet, which was like a rocket no matter how much arse wipe one used to get the job done.

Then again, you could be in the backwoods of redneckville somewhere, and your concern could be the environmental impact of the decision as to what kind of loo roll to use for your ablutions. Does it dissolve? Is it septic-tank, RV, or outhouse friendly? These are all questions you should ask yourself if you care about that sort of thing. Along the same lines, bum fodder made of virgin tree pulp is worse for the environment. Has anyone tried the recycled kind? If it's rough-textured, I may well invest in some. The only mental image I can conjure is of wiping my arse with an egg carton.

In summary, when it comes to what kind of toilet paper I choose, it comes down to style, price, and value. I would rather save a little money on the paper, and instead, use those extra pennies to buy some better reading material. I made the mistake of leaving a 1-800-FLOWERS catalog in there one day, and my husband used the page of rose arrangements to clog the can. Nothing says "I love you" more than plunging the hole clear of someone else's toilet blunder.

Nothing could be more humiliating or distressing than being stranded, alone in a public bathroom, having to use the empty cardboard roller to scrape your bum clean. It's too close an approximation of The Shit Stick for me. The following has become my personal mantra: Make sure you check the roll before doing your business.

Bathroom Time

I am interested to know if I'm the only person in the world who enjoys using the restroom.

The cool, dank interior of the bathroom here at my office building fascinates me. Not only do we have the usual row of stalls along one wall, and sinks opposite, we also have a separate door inside that leads to a shower and lockers. It always smells very nice, thanks to the intermittent squelch of the automatic air freshener, and it is always very clean.

First of all... this is probably the nicest bathroom I've ever come across in my career as a desk jockey. Most places I have worked had loos that smelled of old crap, of piss, and despair. This one has a lovely black marble sink counter, and the water is automatic, and always at the perfect, warm temperature. The toilet flushes without my having to do some karate kick to a handle, in fact, the toilets are automatic.

The bathrooms I have chanced to encounter, in my years since moving to Utah, have been hovels. The one in Provo always smelled of bowels, even though I was the first one there in the morning. I was always slightly worried for my personal safety when I stepped inside, because heaven knows what kind of sordid affair had occurred before my entering therein. Were I to rank it, it was a D, ranking above such loos as one will find in public parks, or truck stops in the middle of nowhere.

The one in West Valley City was very nice, taking second-place to the one here in Sandy. I was fortunate to be located on the top, executive floor, and I referred the the restroom, affectionately, as My Office. The stalls were dark, atmospheric, the floor was always rather clean. It was so nice, I took to eating my lunches in there, contemplating the meaning of the universe. And, my favorite part was that the tampon machine was busted, so I got those for free. All in all, it ranked a solid B in terms of cleanliness and overall atmosphere.

The one at the office out near the airport was putrid. All the T.P. dispensers had been broken, and one had to navigate around the discarded toilet tissue and sanitary napkin wrappers on the floor. It smelled of urine, and there was some distinct substance smeared on the tile walls, which I was loath to give more than a transitory glance. I could not avoid that restroom, however, because I was pregnant, and had to slash more often than not. It was distressing in the lack of hand soap, and paper towels. I had to avoid any surface for fear of hepatitis. The only redeeming factor was the interesting, racist, and vulgar graffiti I found on the walls. I took a picture of some, the sage-like advise can apply to anyone in any social class or circumstance, and will remember it always: Remember To Flush The Toilet! This restroom ranks a solid F.

After that, we move on to the office in Murray. The building was large, multi-floored, and the bathrooms were a sad attempt at comfort. The stalls were too narrow, the floor a disgrace, and the room itself frigid. I would like to meet whomever designed that monstrosity and give him a good slap with a dead trout. It's bad enough to be a female, having to pee, but when lowering one's pants in desperation, to be struck with the cold air on one's rear-end is positively painful. Bathroom gets a C, because at least there was enough soap and paper towels.

After that, I moved on to the office in Draper. The building was lovely, multi-colored, and well cared-for. The bathrooms were an entirely different matter. Same old stall wall, same old sink wall, same old bathroom style, and same old hospital sterility. The air freshener was this odd mix of mint and apple, and it was quite nauseating, but at least it worked. The one thing I did enjoy about this bathroom, as opposed to any other of which I have come into contact, was the fact that there was an extra stall on the far wall, with nothing beside it. The stall was made in such a way that it was long rather than wide, and there was no way for anyone who was washing up, or adjusting their makeup, to see through the cracks. They also had a lotion dispenser, which was handy, as their soap tended to dry out one's skin. The major drawback was that the tampon machine was never stocked, and never worked. Very bad for someone, such as myself, who was experiencing quite a liberal soaking so far as menstrual cycles go. B-.

Last, but certainly not least, is the office in Sandy. Certainly, the reason why this one is better is because this is a better job than the others I have had in the past. That it's located in a tower further adds to the loveliness of the interior. But the bathroom, the bathroom is built for comfort. Nice little shelves above the T.P. to set my Zune or novel, wide, comfortable stall width, plenty of T.P. along with an extra roll wrapped in paper "just in case" and two hooks on the back of the door for one's jacket, and purse. The soap dispensers whips the soap into lovely foam as you dispense it, to aid in the cleaning process. There is a lotion dispenser here too, with much nicer lotion than the one at the other office. The only drawback that I can see is that the bathroom was not designed for one to tarry; just as a little stop along the way as you run through your corporate rat race career. No, when I spend too long cozying up to the toilet seat, reading my lovely book, and listening to some New Order on my Zune, the lights shut off. And so I have to jump up, pants around my ankles, open the door, and wave emphatically in the hopes that the motion sensor will see me. Throwing the spare roll of T.P. just does not work like I thought it would.

--HA Green