Autoflush: When Innovation Isn't Good
So what is the deal with automatic toilets?
Welcome to the world of the Thinking Blogger, y'all.
You all know my department has temporarily relocated during the sprinkler installation so as to avoid death by asbestos 10 or 20 years from now. The new building has autoflush toilets. You know, with the little infrared beam that decides when you're sitting and when you're done.
(Side note: why isn't infrared spelled "infra-red"?)
Autoflush in my building needs to be recalibrated. That shit's just not working. Either that or autoflush is fucking with me.
At first, I was cool with the new water closet digs. Check out how the seat curves up at the rear, cradling your ass like an old recliner. Nice. So nice, in fact, that I was testing it out, leaning forward and back a little, appreciating the secure feel of the seat, when
FLLUUUSH!
The toilet autosprayed my ass. Literally. Damn it!
Fine. Lesson learned: no leaning around, no testing out the seating arrangements. (Oh please. Like you've never done that.) As long as I kept reasonably still on the porcelain throne, things would be fine.
Wrong.
Next trip, I go in, grab one of those paper seat covers -- or as my dad calls them, ass gaskets -- because this is a public toilet, after all. Punch out the center and lay said ass gasket down on the seat. Unbuckle belt, unhook pants, pull down, turn around to sit dow--------
FLLUUUSH!
Shit. Now I'm doing the bare-assed crouch maneuver over this power-flushing, porcelain vessel, the ol' bladder thinks it's time to let loose the stream, and I can't sit down because the toilet has autosucked my seat cover into its watery depths.
Shit. Practice some kegels, straighten up, awkwardly turn back around whilst keeping my knees apart so as to keep my pants up off the tiled germfest under my feet, grab another ass gasket, and repeat. This time, I back way up, so the autoflusher won't read me as "sitting" already.
It worked! I'm sitting, ass separated from the petri dish of a toilet seat by my properly placed prophylactic paper. Relief. Except ... oh, no. This is turning out to be a Number Two occasion. Fine. Not the most convenient time and place, but whatever. Like it's never happened to you.
So, I'm done. As the Airborne Rangers say, "Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door ..." I try to leave (on the count of four), but the autoflush has not kicked in.
I wait. I wave my hands around. Do a couple of squats.
Nothing.
Some autoflushers have a manual override. In other words, a good old, regular flushing handle. Not these. Auto all the way, baby.
I back way up. I wave my hands in front of the reader, and wait again. Nada. The toilet sits, silently automocking my ass with its feculent cargo. I resort to duck-walking toward the rear of the stall, straddling the toilet, facing the wall, so my pelvis is blocking the reader.
At this point, two women enter the bathroom, laughing and chatting. Great. There is a knock on my door. "Oh!" The woman suddenly stops chatting with her pal, quickly moving on to the next stall. Great. There is nothing to do but the backward duck-walk. My new neighbor can't help but see my rear-facing shoes retreat, unless she's counting ceiling tiles. I'm sure this confirmed her initial suspicion that I am either 1) experimenting with pissing like the boys, or 2) I am packing. Great.
Too little, too late, you porcelain bastard.
14 comments:
No honey, you've got it all wrong. Auto flush has just been trying to pay you a compliment. Auto flush is saying that you are too slender for it's infrared beam to detect. Either that, or the sight of your lovely ass has caused Mr. Autoflush to, err.., prematurely release.
The urinals here flush as you pee, sometimes several times...no wonder water is becoming more and more scarce.
I think God is punishing you because of your "potty-mouth."
"Feculant cargo"? Oh my yord.
I hate those stupid autoflushers. They have them at The Child's school. And I get the premise...no more going into a stall where someone has forgotten to be considerate. But they are so frakking random, as you so amusingly illustrated.
"...automocking my ass with its feculent cargo"
Man that was some funny shit! And yes, the puns today will all be intentional.
Brilliant.
Ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaa!!!
Too, too funny. I'm in the middle of a meeting (a really engaging and exciting meeting) as I read this, and it was unfortunately impossible for me to keep a straight face ...
But that's okay. Only my boss noticed, and he's as bored as I am.
Heh, toilet meme. :)
LMFAO!...and the good part is,you know we'll all be watching that on the internet,thanks to all the hidden cameras they installed!. ;P
yeah, I was going to add something about Homeland Security but Sling pretty much beat me to it.
Tater: While flattery will get you just about anydamnwhere, the 'slender' explanation is not exactly logical these days. However, if Sir Autoflush is anything like Sir Mix-a-Lot, then maybe he was taken by the sight of my ass. Hmm. That does put a positive spin on things, doesn't it? I like it.
Allan: yeah, it's crazy how much the public machines use. Still though, I can kind of see the need to have the urinals awash constantly. Those nasty little cakes in there don't mean shit, and a lot of guys have the attitude that if it's not solid, it doesn't need flushing.
Anon: Entirely possible. Kind of like the vindictive bastard has apparently punished me for worshipping Ra and being a lit-tle too happy about having Real Heat for a day, by making it rain and get cool on my first day out of the cubicle. Fuck. I'd do some Hail Marys if I thought it'd make a difference.
L: Yeah, me too the premise makes sense, like with the urinals, but goddamn folks, if your going to introduce some technology to a very private and vulnerable moment, make sure the shit works. Test it with real people of all shapes, sizes, and toileting habits.
Hat: Ooh, I love puns. Mom was the queen of puns, Daddy was the scatalogical king. Yeah, made for an interesting mix. But it all came out alright in the end. [har har har]
Belle: Given the subject of this little discussion, I thank you heartily.
Red: I see your hahahaHAHAHA and raise you a hafuckingHA-HA! The image of you sitting in a meeting trying not to laugh at autoflush escapades -- priceless. Damn. You're bold.
QJ: Yeah, it's a crapper kind of day. If I find out you're psychic, I'm so putting up a Vulcan mind shield. I think they have that. Opposite of mind meld.
Sling: Fuck. Well crap. Like I need that. Not the thing one dreams of being on You Tube for...
Hat: That's ok. I"m sure the gub'mint will silence any mention of it, then you can say it later, and act like you thought of it.
arrggg auto flush!!!
okay I always had this fear as a kid that if the toilet flushed while I was sitting on it I'd be sucked into the plumbing. And the thought of an automatic toilet flushing while I'm sitting on it sort of still scares me.
Willym: kids think the darndest things! my sister used to think that alligators could somehow come through the pipes and bite her in the ass. Although I have heard of babies ending up in a commode, my sister also had issues with sharks in the bathtub (after hearing about the movie Jaws) and witches in the sink. Not sure where the witches thing came from.
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