I’m now sitting here again attempting to write this piece for the third time in three weeks.

To be fair the first draft of this essay was horrible, wordy and disjointed. Basically, if you follow me on twitter……. yeah, like that. The second draft was brilliant, funny, cunning and somehow didn’t save over the first draft, or maybe I just felt bad because it was plagiarized. Please take what I just wrote literally, it makes sarcasm so much more fun.

This, my final attempt, to be clear, is going to be the shitty version. I do realize I’ve written some sketchy pieces at best and some lacking serious thought and structure at worst. If you’re still reading and choose to continue, my advice is to try not to get any of this on you.

I am not a social justice warrior, nor am I died in the wool right wing. (I know it’s “dyed” in the wool but that’s how I say it now, so maybe stop picking at every little thing. Ok?). There are certainly viewpoints I possess which could be considered conservative and still others that some might think more progressive. For me personally, any time I can take a position that garners the ire of both sides, it’s like a fresh out of the dryer warm blanket wrapped around me on a chilly December night. So if the next bit annoys you, please know that I couldn’t be more pleased.

I have no opinion on which gender should use which bathroom……for the most part. Call me crazy, but to me, a conservative point of view would be one that doesn’t give two shits where you or anyone who isn’t me shits. I know which bathroom I choose to use and that’s really where my give a shit ends. There is, however, a reason I commented “for the most part”, because there is a situation where I very much do care and that finally brings us to our subject matter: THE PUBLIC FAMILY RESTROOM.

Yes, I use cuss words with regularity in blogs unlike the rest of #AgTwitter. I also start sentences with conjunctions, end them with prepositions and I go both ways on the Oxford comma. If you’re looking for a work of art, you came to the wrong place.

BUT If you are an able-bodied adult, by yourself, in a store that has a family restroom option with the gendered bathroom you would ordinarily choose not completely occupied or being cleaned and you decide to do your business in the family restroom because you have some false sense of entitlement that you are just too good to go in one of the partitioned stalls like everyone else….

Then *Daddy’s Digest Edits* YOU!!!!!!!!

Happy NOW? ^

As the father of two kids, a boy and a girl, the family restroom is something that can save a lot of awkward and challenging moments when taking young children to potty in public. Anyone who has kids knows that sometimes they have the need just before their britches are peed. When a store or public area has the family restroom option it certainly can lower the stress level. It’s a more controlled environment for the safety of children. None of the anxiety of taking a child to a gendered restroom they may not personally find comfortable or sending the other to a restroom alone because the parent doesn’t feel comfortable. Also, sometimes the parent has to use the restroom too and though it sounds a little disgusting, with two little kids it’s a whole lot easier on mom or dad if everyone can be in the same room without the worry of a broader audience or not being able to keep an eye on, say, a wandering curious 3-year-old girl in the Men’s room.

That all explained, sometimes the family restroom is occupied. Geez, I want to always be honest here… oftentimes the family restroom is occupied. If we have chosen to wait and it’s another family that comes out or someone who has a disability, it’s completely understandable. Even if it’s just a boy or a girl and his mother or father is patiently waiting outside, I am okay with it.

However, if it’s some flipping baby boomer who is dressed to the 9’s at a shopping center that comes strolling out after he or she has peeled the paint off the walls, I’m going to let them know. Or if it’s a millennial that somehow thinks socialism includes them being afforded the same rights to the family restroom as me and my littles, we are going to have a “conversation” about just who in the hell the family restroom is for at that point. These folks may not be sending me holiday cards when the conversation is over but most likely will remember for quite some time that we talked.

Okay, so that all said, I realize as an adult there are emergency situations that a single, able bodied adult might feel more comfortable using the family restroom. Like if you need to change clothes for some reason, etc. I still think this could be done in a partitioned stall but some require more space than others for such mishaps.

At this time I would like to address some other restroom etiquette issues which have been my misfortune (and probably the misfortune for many of you as well), to encounter.

First, leave whichever restroom you choose as you found it. The toilet is not like your life, you don’t need to leave any “keepsakes” behind for the next generation to remember you. Waste that comes out of your body and the cleaning supplies used on your person should be placed directly inside the toilet bowl and flushed completely before you exit the stall. Many rolling their eyes right now still struggle with this most basic of sanitary practices.

Secondly, if you enter a restroom… and what say… there are 8 partitioned stalls with just the 2nd stall occupied, please, don’t choose stall 1 or stall 3. What the actual fuck is wrong people that do this? Do they have separation issues or something? Is it some wasters choice moment we are going to share that they think I need to be a part of?

I increased the font size on “and what say” to point out that it’s not a grammatical error. I like saying “and what say”, moreover I like typing it even more than I like saying it. This won’t be the last time you hear this slang should you continue to choose the stall next to me in the shitter!

Come on!

Stalls 4-8 are there for you to do you!

Lastly, speaking of you doing you, we all have had moments where using the restroom was a profound sense of relief. It doesn’t have to be an audible profound sense of relief. I’m not speaking of the flatulent noises erupting from your 7th planet from the sun region. It’s the grunting, oohing and aahhing that aren’t required for you to expel the unusable or unneeded matter from your body. The rest of the folks holding their breath and gasping for fresh air in the room shouldn’t be wondering if the earth moved for you during the evacuation of your bowels or bladder.

Well if you’ve made it here, clear to the end, I want to thank you for reading one of my more excremental pieces and please remember to wash your eyes after flushing this from your memory!


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