Tuesday, March 29, 2005

There are autoflushing toilets

that you love and then there are autoflushing toilets that you cannot love more than the canteen auntie who cheated you of 30 cents during your primary school years - and twice at that.

It's a love-hate relationship for me, where autoflushing toilets are concerned.

Auto-flushing toilets are definitely a must (must must must!) in public toilet. No one wants to pull a flushing lever that has been touched by some unknown stranger, once you conjure him up in your mind to be a dirty old git with an obnoxious passion for digging his nose (or any other orifice) while about his business; or a klutz with a knack for missing the vast contact points between the toilet paper intended for his dear bottom and his dear bottom (one can go on to postulate what actually contacted his dear unsanitized bottom to be... his fingers. Which will, in the not-so-distant future, be pulling THE FLUSH. Gasp.)

And we do realise that one need not necessarily be activating THE FLUSH with his precious clean hands (if they are any clean), don't we? It doesn't really take a Chinese acrobat capable of spinning 7 plates with chopsticks on all his limbs to lift his leg(s) for the purpose intended above. My dear friends and fiends, I have seen shoemarks on flush handles more times than you've seen cats wearing cowboy pants. But don't let me stop you if you still believe that humankind still possess the moral ethics to pull flushing levers with ditty clean hands. I must admit I believe that they do exist, much as I believe that one can eventually strike lottery after 24215273264326232 attempts at that lucky game.

And don't let me start on flush levers wet with dubious liquids that you know not to be water or some nuclear reactive substance of organic origins.

And yes, for all the autoflushing toilet's worth, I have some rants on it. (I always do have rants on ANYTHING, dear....)

Now I'm not the particular type of guy that loves intimate physical contact with the toilet seat, and if given the choice, I will always opt for the squatting type. Yes, I do know that some pple get pins and needles from prolonged squatting, but to them, I say: tough luck, I don't.

The only thing I hate about them autoflushing toilets, are that some of them autoflush for no rhyme or reason. It's good that they perform their functions (Potex will be so proud of 'em.), but I would seriously prefer them to exercise patience, especially when I'm squatting and still about my business, not so enthusiastic about getting my butt cheeks wet from the afterflush gushes while at it.

It's really hard to communicate with them on this matter, I tell you. If they have a mind (which they obviously don't) they'd be so bad at math that they wouldn't recognize an Operator, even if they went out on a dinner date with one the night before.

They flush and they flush, and they flush, (must be some sort of PMS) - once their sensor glow an evil red, signalling that they've noticed your presence and are determined to make you sorry for chancing upon them. Never mind that it is the curry's fault that you ARE there, not that you actually WANT to be there. And if you try to keep absolutely still to fake your absence, they'll play along with you and stop their flushing - that is, until you heave a sigh of relief. They're really good at making you feel miserable, to leave your butt cheeks in despair to the merciless aftermath splashes inflicted by the autoflush.

I've tried cajoling them by sticking toilet papers right in front of their evil sensor eyes, but they've got better eyes than superman, and can see through even your thickest pair of undergarment. It's hopeless I tell you. The only way to not suffer a destitute fate would be to simply resign yourself to it (it's not that bad anyway...)

Just remember that it can't be worse then having to contend with someone producing toxic mass weapon of destruction in the adjacent cubicle. On the very likely event that Saddam Hussein is indeed next door, and your autoflush is indeed having fun at your expense, then tough luck - you're on your own.

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