What. The. Eff.

I'm a simple man, living amongst eight million others. Instances or events come and go without comment, swept under the categorical rug of "only in New York." The homeless couple selling toothbrushes on the 6 train during rush hour. The hipster begging for a vegan meal in the Village. Public urination. I'm fine with those things. In fact, I appreciate them making my day more colorful than your average suburbanite's. But sometimes, just sometimes, I see something that can’t be left without comment. Gentlemen of the blogging world, take note.

The bathrooms on my office’s floor are some of the cleanest I’ve ever seen. Well lit, cleaned daily, and used by less than 20 people a day. But someone on my floor has official public-toilet-bowl-phobia. Are 12 layers of Grade-A toilet paper really necessary? Are the company provided toilet seat covers not up to snuff? And why oh why can the TP abuser NOT kick the leftovers into the toilet and flush them down?! Seriously, folks. Public toilets might ruin your one-on-one time when it comes to number two, but your ridiculous abuse of the firm’s “Go Green” policy should not ruin mine. It doesn’t help the fact that the culprit uses my preferred stall. Son of a B! Is a passive-aggressive note necessary? You tell me.