12% BEER
"I Was Looking At My SHOE!"
  I just got walked in on in the bathroom.

Luckily, it was by a woman that doesn't work in my office, so we don't have to have awkward eye contact moments by the water cooler. We can, instead, just avoid eye contact all together since we don't work with each other... thank God for that.

I locked the door. But, the bathrooms here are on Texas' List of Historic Places, so the locks are made out of this type of metal that bends when you put any pressure on them. Made in Civil War times, when the south didn't have any kind of real metal left to make bathroom locks with, so instead they just melted down paperclips (yes, paperclips were invented back then) and made the locks that are on the bathroom doors here at work.

And you're always in the weirdest position when someone walks in on you. In this case, I was bending over, looking at a scuff on my shoe that was in the shape of a windsock. The door opened and I immediately popped up, because who knows what impression one would get seeing Ladeeleroy hunched over on herself while perched on a toilet. ("What WAS she looking at?")

There was that brief moment of eye contact between us. You know what moment I'm talking about- the one where you both telepathically communicate the following conversation:

Person On Toilet: These are my genitals.

Person Walking In On Other Person: That's what I've concluded. Nice panties.

Person On Toilet: Thank you. I've had them since the third grade. That's why there are so many holes in them.

Person Walking In On Other Person: Ah. I'm going to avoid looking down at your crotch again and back out of the stall now.

Person On Toilet: And, for some reason, I'll mumble an apology first because somehow this must be all my fault.

Person Walking In On Other Person: It is your fault. Lock the door next time, genius.

End Scene

And then there's the awkward silence as the person goes into the other stall- the one that was obviously open- and you both have to sit there listening to each other pee. Except one has the visual of the other person peeing while the other person's mind is reeling with ways to explain the strange mole formation on her inner thigh area- just in case the stranger who walked in on her were to ask.

But anyway. That's how my morning has started. It can't really get that much worse from being walked in on.

Can it?

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Copyright 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004 L.Leroy