PUTTING THE "G" IN GHETTO...

I should probably just apologize, up-front, for this post. Let the title serve as a warning... I am, in the words of the Doobie Brothers, "taking it to the streets". Or at least taping it to the bathroom mirror. I've had it, and it's time for decisive action.

Over the past two years, our department has gone from something like 436 people down to fewer than 200. And I'm not sure how you lose over 200 pooping, peeing, messy people and find that the restrooms were cleaner before... it just defies logic. But the ladies room has gone from Stellar to So-So and now has taken a dive to Third World Country. And I did a dozen years at the old CDP building, folks, so I'm certainly not uninitiated. Nope. I've been grossed out, like, 4,300 days in a row. The restrooms back then were just barely one rung above the "Job Johnny" you'll find at any outdoor festival and one rung below the Texaco station with the smelly outdoor restrooms and a key attached to a 2" x 4". So when I say it's bad, folks, it's pretty dang bad. Brittnee even coined an super-descriptive term that explains it to a tee... our ladies room smells like "poopy Crayons".

Now, I've already speculated in a previous blog that Little Latin Lupe has it in for me... I would put up my first car payment that she races me to the restroom, just when my bladder is sloshingly full of Diet Coke and on the verge of rupture, to place the yellow bar of doom across the doorway. I'm sure it's my imagination, but I detect a hint of smugness when she knows I'll have to sprint, cross-legged, into a lopsided gallop across the third floor to get to the other restroom. She's amazingly quick and agile for a gal with a giant yellow caca cart, that Lupe. So I don't wanna do anything to rile her up. But something's gotta give. I mean, the unmentionables are poking up out of the top of the trash receptacles in the stalls-- so it dawns on me: It's time for a friendly little note.

Maybe it's just a balls-out case of after-hours swagger... but as I sat there alone, with not another living soul in the office, it hit me. It was time to do it for myself and for my office peeps. I printed the note without hesitation, grabbed two pieces of tape, and headed for the lavatory at warp speed. Wish me luck. Tomorrow, either the bathrooms will be in better shape. Or I'll have the tread marks of the giant yellow caca cart across my back. Either way, I'll be a hero... In my own mind.

PS-- I'm hoping I'm not construed as a Passive-Aggressive Emoticon User... Hmm... didn't think of that. But no, I don't think there was any "passive" here. Ooooonly aggressive. Too many Tampax wrappers running amok in the stalls will do that.