Okay, part of the responsibility of running this blog will be, from time to time, a little lesson in etiquette. I have no intention of being Emily Post or Miss Manners*, but SERIOUSLY people--can you not figure out the basics?!?!?!
Today, I found myself in the awkward position of being one stall over from a guy chatting loudly on his cell phone. Lovely. For you dear readers of the fairer sex, men's rooms are NOTHING like your facilities. Men barely control their bodily functions in public, so imagine indelicate nature of what goes on behind closed men's room doors. So, add to that symphony of sound a conversation between a man and his fantasy football buddy about a particular running back's performance this past weekend. Apparently the fella was running so fast "it was a blur" (I'm sure that "blur" had nothing to do with his mass consumption of cheap domestic beer.) And when they replayed it in slo-mo "he looked like he was running full speed--I SHIT YOU NOT!" Excuse me?!?! Yes, he really said it. And without a trace of irony.
Of coure stupid people don't use irony. Or irons. Or floss. But that's another post.
*speaking of irony, I grew up LOVING the smug irony of Judith Martins, a.k.a. Miss Manners. I loved that her tongue was deeply planted in her cheek that she looked like she was from East Texas. Then I saw her live. And I was horrified. The bitch was SERIOUS. Not a trace of sarcasm. Not a trace of irony. Not a trace of humor. And if I hadn't figued out I was gay by then . . .