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6:09 a.m. - 2008-10-28


You know what I'm really starting to get pissed off about??

Those fucking public sinks in restrooms that are sensor-activated.

The ones where you're supposed to wave your hand somewhere in the vicinity of the faucet and then water magically starts to run but only for a split second because you've already moved your hand into territory that isn't covered by the little laser technology due to your constant flapping of your hands trying to FIND the goddamned sensor.

All I wanna do is wash my fucking hands. I didn't come in here to learn the ins and outs of modern-day science fer chrissakes.

TWICE, count 'em TWICE in the past week have I encountered these things that made me feel like a village idiot.

The first was at Walmart. Andrew and I were shopping and he had to go potty.

It was only number one. Thank God, as I'll explain if I have more time.

Andrew is a stickler for washing his hands after he urinates. That's cool. There's worse habits for a kid to have like smoking crack or voting Republican.

So we waltz over to the sinks and it's those goddamned space-age sinks.

"Dad, my sink won't come on," he says.

I jump over to his rescue and start waving my hands like I'm trying to land a 747.


I S-L-O-W-L-Y move my hand around the opening to the faucet.


I start pushing down on the faucet in case modern technology has passed me by and now you have to physically arm-wrestle the faucet and win in order to wash your hands.


So we left the bathroom with my son's hands covered in baby dick cooties.

Saturday night I was doing a wedding at a fancy local country club and had to pee.

Went in to the bathroom, sauntered up to a urinal next to a man dressed in a nice suit.

"Pretty sweet cock you've got there," I said, nodding at his crotch.

He got the hint, zipped up and walked away so I could pee in peace.

With my back turned to him, he began to wash his hands and then took his time drying them.

So I finish peeing, zip up and go over to the sinks because if someone before you pees and then washes his hands and you pee and DON'T wash your hands, then you're deemed a freak at the party and the guy's running around saying the DJ doesn't wash his hands and before the end of the night, you're a social pariah on the same level as a leper with bad breath.

So I go to wash my hands.

Goddamned sensor sinks again.

I'm determined to get my hands washed as this guy quietly dries his hands with the precision of a brain surgeon removing a frontal lobe or two.

Had he not been in there, I probably woulda made a beeline for the door once I got a gander at the sinks.

But it was like he was challenging me.

Like he didn't believe I could get the sinks to work. I didn't have the necessary skills required to find the goddamned sensors.

My dry-handed friend was right.

I was working my hands like I was making invisible origami all around that faucet and nothing came out.

Finally, I must have shifted a few molecules in the air just right and a jet of cold water shot out of the sink for all of 0.2 seconds.

Before I could get my hands in the vicinity of the water, it shut off.

Captain Dry Mitts was watching me with determination. He wanted to make sure the DJ washed his penis-germ covered hands before he went back out and hobnobbed with the fancy pants and ball gowns.

So I did what I had to do.

I PRETENDED that the water had actually found its way to my hands and happily covered them in soap, made a beeline for the towels and wiped the soap off onto the cloth towels supplied by the country club.

Apparently, the King of Dick Germs was okay with this as he left the room while I was doing my one-man show entitled "Those Goddamned Fucking Sinks Will Not Get The Better Of Me".

... In 3D.

I frantically swatted at each of the faucets again, trying to get some sort of liquid to spill out and get the sticky soap scum off my hands.


Therefore, as of today, I'm declaring war on those new sinks.

Fuck 'em.

See if you'll ever clean my hands again, bitches.

A quick note.

My son has the absolute largest bowel movements on the face of the earth.

He's not even proud of them which blows my mind. In fact, he doesn't want anyone seeing them.

But yesterday he needed some toilet paper, so I took it to him and got a gander at the inside of the bowl.

It looked like a chocolate-covered elephant tusk in there. The damn thing ran the length of the bowl and was crawling up the front of the bowl to the rim.

Honestly, the kid's maybe four foot tall or so.

This shit had to be five feet long.

He amazes me with his incredible shit powers.

That's my boy.

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That Sinking Feeling - 6:09 a.m. , 2008-10-28

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