South Park Self

the monkey dimension at the centre of the multiverse

The ladies' toilets in my building on campus are simply weird. There are four stalls, but they appear to have been built, back in the dawn of time when these campus buildings emerged from the primordial ooze, by a numerically-challenged builder with a malfunctioning measuring tape. Two stalls are a normal size, a sort of average width for such things. One of the remaining two is significantly narrower, so your thigh brushes the toilet roll when you sit on the loo; the other is significantly wider, practically palatial in its vast expanse. It's not a wheelchair accommodation, the whole thing is up two flights of stairs and a sharp right angle bend completely inaccessible to any wheelchairs without a Dalek levitation function; nor can I can see any load-bearing wall issue which would dictate an uneven stall distribution. It must be sheer incompetence, one of those moments of horrible post-project realisation of the "Prid of Ankh-Morpork" order.

It drives me crazy every single time I go in there. I am facing the sad fact that at least some small part of me is unnecessarily nit-picky. I'd say anal-retentive, but it seems a bit pointed in the context of toilets.

Today was better than yesterday. We draw a veil over yesterday. I think its malignant Monday-energy became randomly exponentialised by eddies in the space-time continuum and the concentrations of student admissions angst. I also think I've been reading far too much Goats. My apologies to the role-players with whom I was scheduled to role-play; I hope the Scrabble was epic.
  • Current Mood: annoyed random annoyance
  • Current Music: David Bowie/Nine Inch Nails Youtube videos
I don't know what this Goats thing you have been reading is, but if it makes you write like that, I want to read some of it too.

Um, thank you? Apparently it makes me write about toilets, but as long as I do so with reasonable eloquence, I think that's ok...

You can also blame noxious days at work, which tend to make me retreat into crafting blog posts obsessively. Most of these sentences are on iteration 7 or 8 and ferociously tweaked.