This one goes out to anyone who has had to deal with that guy or lady in the bathroom who just doesn't know when to shut up and let someone poop in peace.
I think any reasonable person can agree that a little doorway conversation is appropriate.
"Hey, Jim Bob Duggar."
"Oh hey, Georgia. How's it goin'."
"Yup, yup."
No problem.
The issue is that some people don't understand that a stall door is more than just some aluminum that swings (but rarely latches) between two thin walls. The truth is that little door swings between dimensions and, more importantly, states of mind and being. When you go into that stall, you become the beast that nature intended.
In beast mode, man is not meant to continue his discussion of how the Indians are really sucking this week, or that doozy of a hail storm that dented up your new RV the other night, or how much you'd like to tap that new intern who went to high school with your daughter.
These topics of discussion are perfectly acceptable at any other time, in any other setting. But once that door is is closed, I only talk one language, and that's poop.
Also, don't stink up the bathroom right before I get in there, okay? We all know it was you, and this is my place to be disgusting.
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