Animal Crappers
No, that’s not a typo.
I spend a lot of time in factories, and if I’m going to be in one for more than a half hour, I ask where the human being johns are.
See, most factories have animal crapers- johns so filthy and nasty it looks like they’re being used by wild animals. Animals who have a penchant for graffiti, filthy turns of phrase, and crudely drawn pictures of genitalia.
Here’s a sample:
Sorry, it’s a cellphone picture.
This was the end crapper of nine, and this was the cleanest one, the one I used. I usually have disinfectant wipes, but there’s only so much that can do.
You’d be amazed how nice it is- and how rare- to find a clean crapper- but I’ve used johns in places that would make most people lose their lunch to look at. Maybe I ought to start a feature.
Please don’t. I occasionally eat my meals while reading friends’ blogs.
~Animal Crappers ruined my suit,
Die-en to find a clean place to poop.
Had there been one sooner,
it would all be moot,
Cause, Animal Crappers ruined my suit!~
With apologies to those who may remember watching old Shirley Temple movies. And the lyricist of “Animal Crackers”.
What Robert said. Ewwww!
That’s actually nice looking compared to the ones I remember at Stewart-Warner in Indy.
For one thing, it has a window.
Og, on Carreterra 57 through the high mesa desert that is Mexico’s midsection, there is no running water at most gas stations. And of course, what plumbing does exist in Mexico is spindly and small diameter, so t.p. cannot be flushed, it must be tossed in the garbage pail nearby.
Where? What garbage pail?
I have mental pictures seared into my retinas of the most filthy, disgusting toilets you can imagine, and that’s just the ladies’ room.
I learned to wear comfy long skirts and stop somewhere along the highway. Better a scorpion-bit bottom than even the sight or smell of such toilets.
Only girly-men use clean toilets.
I worked in a steel mill for a spell. There were some animals there who used hands and walls in lieu of toilet paper.
I sometimes think human crappers are apex of civilization. That and hot water in the shower. I’m still not sold on this whole electricity thing.
Back when I was at Ft. Riley, they would bring out porta-johns for field exercises. One Honey Bucket per platoon.
You ever read that little label on the inside of those things? It reads, and I quote, “To be used by 10 men during a normal 40 hour work week.”
Ten men? HAH! Forty hours? HAHAHAHAHAHA!
The phrase to use was “Shit above seat level”. The sheer amount of feces piled up would gag a dung beetle.
I would just dig a hole out in the woods rather than deal with that. So that’s what I did.
Looks good to me, but then again, you’ve been in my house.