Cooties
Ladies, there are only two types of guys- those who wash their hands after they go to the bathroom, and those who don’t. The ratio is about fifty-fifty.
As a fussy, obsessive-compulsive freak, I’m among the washers. After cleansing my hands in a public sink, I’m often forced to touch a doorknob to exit. I usually improvise by using an extra paper towel to open the door. Then I have to hunt down a trash can.
Sometimes this solution isn’t an option. Many buildings go cheap by using hot air machines in their restrooms. Thanks for the germ carnival, McDonald's!
And it’s not just that I don’t like other guys’ fresh urine and feces on my hands. The bathroom door pictured, for instance, is at St. Luke’s Hospital. Who knows what kind of cooties are on that handle.
Next week's topic in Phobics-R-Us: Handshakes.
11 Comments:
At 11:19 AM, Pensive Girl said…
some girls "pretend" to wash their hands. this is what i've observed. they stand at the sinks, run the water, "fake" run their hands under it, fake dry them and leave. others have admitted to actually just running the water so that the person in the stall thinks they've washed up. ladies, you aren't doing anyone a favor by faking us out. gross.
At 11:28 AM, FletcherDodge said…
I'm with you. I usually use some extra paper towel to swing the door open, then do a quick ninja move to throw the paper towel away and slip out the door before it closes.
Another tactic I use on push-open doors is to reach way up high where (I suspect) nobody else reaches, just so I don't catch their cooties.
At 12:40 PM, Dan said…
I, on the other hand, don't think about stuff like this, and apply alcohol regularly to my interior, just in case. Works for me . . .
At 1:17 PM, Anonymous said…
Why not back into the push-open door or use your elbow? Hell, just kick the thing open. Unless, oh god, you have sandals on.
At 1:24 PM, WLIB said…
HIB: I think fifty-fifty is pretty generous. (btw: thanks for inspiring for today's toilet post on my blog)
Jessi: I've always suspected that.
emaw_kc: On push doors I use my shoulder in hopes of cootie-shunning.
dan: I'm with you on the alcohol. Besides, it's medicine!
At 1:40 PM, Happy In Bag said…
Boy, you can't go wrong posting about bathrooms! Jessi, that's just weird. Faking it doesn't even cross the minds of the "unclean" men, as Lee calls them. Good call, Emaw, but if I was king, I'd demand that a trash can be placed outside every restroom. I've been known to overdo it at soapless joints like Mike's and the Hurricane, Dan. There's my excuse! Panos, the hinges at many places, like the one pictured, open "in," so you're stuck getting out. Nice post, Lee!
At 7:20 PM, Xavier Onassis said…
Oh good Lord.
One word:
MONEY
Ever handle money? Ever think about how many of those One Dollar Bills have been in the panties of skanky strippers? Or shoved up the noses of coke freaks? Or been used to pay for a pack of generic cigarettes by some meth-head in Ray County?
Money NEVER gets washed. Every time you touch a piece of currency you are french-kissing every homeless bastard that ever begged for a quarter.
In contrast, people afloat in the ocean for extended periods have actually survived by drinking their own piss.
Me thinks your paranoia about germs may be a bit misplaced.
At 8:27 AM, FletcherDodge said…
Waitaminute XO, I thought the only reason we kept the mob around is so they could launder all the money.
You telling me that's not true?
At 8:48 AM, Happy In Bag said…
XO- I'm sure you're right. Regrettably, I don't see enough cash to do a proper study. Not to get too dweeby on you, but doesn't stray bacteria die after a while? If I pull a dollar out of my wallet after it's been there a couple days, surely the cooties attached to it have all died, just as bacteria can't survive on a doorknob for very long. Either way, I know for certain that I do not want to touch the bathroom door at Bazooka's Show Girls tonight.
At 9:13 PM, Xavier Onassis said…
Happy - sorry to add to your grief, but the bacteria on money is constantly renewed. Yeah, it may have been a week since it saw a strippers crotch, but it spent that week in a construction workers wallet soaking up ass sweat.
Or shoved down somebody's pocket a fraction of an inch from their scrotum-cheese.
Nothing is filthier than money. Nothing.
You could lick the bathroom door at Bazooka's and pick up fewer germs than when you reach into your own wallet to pay for that PowerBall Ticket at Quick Trip.
At 11:40 PM, WLIB said…
Don't get me started on elevator buttons!
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