American Graffiti

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When I’m on vacation, I spend a lot of time in public restrooms (I know it sounds like I’m a closet member of some sort of secret homosexual scouting organization, but that’s not it); my vegan lifestyle comes back to haunt me when we go to the Upper Peninsula for vacation and the nearest meatless entrée is the Food ‘N Stuff down the road.

click to enlarge

I used to laugh at some of the graffiti that adorns men’s room walls (yes ladies, we vandalize our bathrooms.  It’s why we don’t have couches and flowers in ours.  Much of the time, we also don’t have stall doors or stalls; we shit in a toilet that’s sitting in the middle of a room).  But lately I’ve been overlooking the cleverness of the vandalism and instead have been wondering: who keeps a pen in their pocket?

click to enlarge

Even before the invention of smart phones, I never kept a pen in my pocket, let alone a felt marker that would do me no good anywhere except for drawing on things that shouldn’t be drawn on (bathroom walls, passed out friends’ foreheads, etc.).  Do people intentionally go to the bathroom in order to vandalize it or do they just happen to be sitting there for a long time because they spent one-too-many days in Mackinaw and the taffy is mixing with the corn-fed beef to make a nasty combination of “burning” and “coming out sideways” and they just think, “You know what this wall needs?  A signature.  Or maybe an insult.  Or a phone number.”

I guess I like this attitude better than the one where a guy just pees on all the toilet-paper rolls.


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