Where The Sun Refuses To Shine

HOW DO YOU SHOW YOUR CIVIC PRIDE? Do you wear a hat emblazoned with your town's best professional sports team? Do you run for public office so you can affect the future of your town? Or do you do what the people of Zheleznovodsk do?

That is, do you pay a bunch of money to put a big enema statue where everyone can see it? Yes, I said enema. The town is known for enemas. They love enemas there. As the director of the Mashuk-Akva Term spa told the AP, "An enema is almost the symbol of our region." I like how he says "almost." I like to think there's some sadness in his "almost," as if the director is a little bummed that the enema doesn't win Regional Symbol status hands-down. That he's still chapped that the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker gets more press than the enema he so loves. "Well, not after today, you stupid bird! Not after we drop our giant, bronze enema bomb!"

Certainly not.

So, with a great amount of civic pride, the people of Zheleznovodsk unveiled their new statue, placing it in front of the Mashuk-Akva Term spa, right under a big banner that read (and I wish I was kidding here), "Let's beat constipation and sloppiness with enemas!" It may not be as inspiring as "Mission Accomplished!" but it'll do in a pinch. Er...I mean...it'll do just fine.

What looks like a big bronze cherry carried on the back of children is actually a big bronze enema syringe. The bronze bulb weighs 800 pounds and is carried not by bronze children, but by three bronze angels. Because enemas are the work of angels...tiny, child-like, helpful angels.

"There is no kitsch or obscenity, it is a successful work of art," the spa's director said.

By the way, Zheleznovodsk translates into English as "iron waters." The city is also the home of an international hot air balloon festival. For some reason, the combination of iron waters, hot air balloons and giant bronze enemas makes me slightly uneasy. I guess I don't want the people of Zheleznovodsk to use a hot air balloon filled with iron waters to help me with my digestion. Thank you, though.

A final note:

Finding this story on the net led me to Google the phrase "enema bulb," since I found I was uncertain about the accuracy of the term. Top on Google's search list was a link for EnemaSupply.com (meeting your enema supply needs privately and discreetly since 1998), specifically to the page of "enema syringes, which included the Rimba 6 oz. Enema Syringe, the Shiny River Douche and, most disturbingly, something listed as A Very, Very Large Enema Bulb. About the latter, I quote the site, "This is the largest enema bulb we have ever seen...[It] holds 26 ounces (750ml)...[It] can be difficult to fill and to clean but if you are looking for the largest bulb syringe on the market, this is the enema bulb that you want."

So if you want to really know what the difference between Americans and Russians is, it is this: We like our enema supplies to be supplied "privately and discreetly" (at least since 1998), while the Russians build monuments to theirs. That's it. That's the big difference.

Oh, that and their rock and roll is terrible.

Your New Favorite Bear

SOMEONE HAD TO INVENT HIM. It wasn't me. But I sort of wish it had been.



Click for a larger image, and also so you can read the even more confusing small print.

You're welcome, America.

Potty Training For Dummies

WHAT IS IT ABOUT MAJOR CORPORATIONS AND BATHROOMS that makes people crazy? Is it the cubicle lifestyle? Or is it just a by-product of hundreds of people being stuck in the same building together for 40 or more hours a week? I only ask because of the sign I saw posted on the men's bathroom at the company where my wife and I frequently do freelance work. (Click for a larger image.)



Since you may not be able to read the extensive text under the title Potty Training for Dummies, I will reproduce all two hundred and thirty-nine (!!) words here:

The cleaning staff that services our bathroom facilities do a great job of keeping them clean and tidy, yet it seems that within minutes of their departure some of us who participate in the use of said facilities tend to be some of the sloppiest hygiene deprived individuals around. I would venture to say that the dirtiest public restroom in Calcutta would rate higher on the clean meter than this bathroom on any given day.

The toilets aren’t there to see how many rolls of TP you can attempt to flush in one sitting.
The sink counters are not a display table for your used paper wash towels.
The sinks are not there for you to clean your coffee pots and leave the grounds.
The urinals are meant for what the name implies, not paper, gum and some thing which science has yet to name.

Remember when your Wife, Mother or Father would remind you to put up the toilet seat, well that still hasn’t registered with some of us yet. It doesn’t take anymore effort to practice cleanliness and good hygiene than it does to make the mess, so let’s all think back to what are parent’s taught us when we were young...Put the seat up, flush the toilet, don’t use to much TP, and wash your hands. We’ll all be happier, the cleaning staff will be happier and most of all our parents will be happier.

The italics are mine, but the grammar (and color change) is all the mystery author of this crazy, crazy note. Now, I have written about the bathroom antics at this building before. But I found this note to be the most insane. First of all, let us consider the amount of time that went into composing it, and add to that the amount of time it took in Photoshop, then add the time it took to find the appropriate clip art images of toilets, and then add to THAT the amount of time it took to print and then laminate the sign. (Did I not mention that this sign was laminated? Because it was.)

It's hard for me to pinpoint my favorite thing about this sign. Because there's so much to love. There's "let's all think back to what are parent's taught us", just for beginners. And there's also the capitalization (for emphasis I'm guessing) of "Wife, Mother or Father". There's also the fact that the sign disappeared after being up on the door for a few hours.

But best of all, I think, is the illustration. The YES and the NO. I get the NO part. I get that the illustration is showing me not to throw an entire roll of toilet paper (or TP, as the author prefers) into a toilet, and that the result of doing so is water on the floor by the toilet.

But I'm a little confused by the YES. It takes me a little while to recognize the floating blue curlicues as individual sheets of TP, and in the illustration it is unclear what those floating TP squares are up to. Should I use them to press the plunger? (Good advice, I think.) Should I stick them to the wall? The illustration is unclear. What it does NOT appear to indicate is that the TP squares should go in the toilet. When I compare the YES to the NO, I can clearly see the rolls of TP going in to the toilet, where the TP squares in the YES illustration may, in fact, be floating away from it.

Whatever the action to be taken with the TP squares, I believe the illustration is very clear about what should be happening. I should pee on the floor next to the toilet. At least, that's my take-away from the yellow pool around the base of the toilet.

And I have to be honest: I don't think I agree with this sign. I don't think it's a good idea to pee on the floor. Maybe that makes me a snob, but if it does, so be it.

Get Professional Help!

WHEN IT COMES TO PUBLIC RESTROOMS, you just never know what you'll find inside them. Even if that restroom is contained in the offices of a big corporation. While working a little freelance job recently, I stepped out for a moment to use the restroom. Not the one on the floor I work on, but the third floor bathroom: much cleaner, quieter, less trafficked, far less stinky. And when I closed the door to the stall, I saw this sign taped to the back of the stall door.

Notice the exclamation points. Notice how thoroughly the note is taped to the stall. If you look closely, you can see that it is fully covered in wide, clear packing tape, as if laminated to the stainless steel of the stall door. While I cannot in good conscience take the side of the toilet stuffer, I find it hard to get fully behind the person who wrote the note either. He seems to have a completely different set of compulsions. Not that I'm convinced that either of the participants in this little dance are actually mentally ill, but they just don't seem like they'd be cool to hang out with.

One should also keep in mind some of the weird characters at this particular job. Like the executive assistant on the fourth floor who puts paper towels on her hands to touch almost anything. This same executive assistant also cleaned up a co-worker's messy desk while the messy co-worker was out of town. The messy desk in question was around the corner and completely out of sight. It's not like she had to stare at it. It's more like she could hear the mess calling to her from down the hall and around the corner and couldn't resist going to clean it up.

I feel I should also pass on a story a female co-worker, let's call her Vera, told me. Vera walked into the women's bathroom in this same building and saw that some woman had brought her tray of food straight from the commissary and left it sitting on the counter by the sinks. She was stunned and stared at the tray for a moment until the owner of the tray came out of her stall and said, jovially, "I see you staring at my food! You can't have any." To which Vera replied, "I don't want any of your bathroom food."

Finally, I must add that I once saw a male co-worker (in the unpleasant second floor bathroom) standing at the stall, urinating. While eating an apple.

Mmmm, bathroom apples! Delicious!

Bathroom Crazy

MENTAL ILLNESS DOES NOT RUN IN MY FAMILY, so my fears are probably baseless. But I have this recurring thought in my head of exactly how I might go crazy, how it will first manifest itself. It's ridiculous, I know. Like the weird fear I have that I will suddenly, capriciously, put the end of a power cord into my mouth. It's not something I want to do. It's just an odd recurring thought. Like the thought my friend Skap has when he's somewhere high (like a balcony or at the edge of a canyon) that he might just jump off, just for no reason.

So my future (and totally make-believe) madness will manifest itself this way, I think. Instead of putting toilet paper in the toilet where it would belong after using it, I will just put it in the trash can. The latest wrinkle on this is that I might, instead of putting it in the trash, hang it on the towel rack behind the toilet. Given those two options (and assuming I'm not going to put it in the toilet where I should) I'd hope that I'd put it in the trash can. That would be, I think, much less crazy. At least, much less disturbing.

I think if you behave like that, you are definitely crazy. So, maybe it's good that I'm making a mental note so that I can recognize my craziness when it manifests itself. Not that it will, because, like I said, crazy brains don't exactly run in my family.