I’ve been proud of the fact that Metten and I haven’t missed a single day of posting at mockable. It’s been, what, a month? Five days a week, for a month? Pretty amazing.
However… I’m ruining the streak. This is game 57, I’m afraid. I have an update almost ready to go, but not completely. So, I’m the first to miss a day; I’m solely responsible for blowing our perfect record.
For better or worse, I’m comfortable in the role.
Speaking of Metten, he’s been secretly writing a novel. In fact, he’s not just writing it, he’s written it — the first draft, anyway. Which, you know, irritates me a great deal…
Anyway, he asked if I’d read it, and I told him it would be an honor. So, he printed out the manuscript, and mailed it to my luxurious fur-lined PO Box in Olyphant, PA. And I picked it up on Friday.
On the outside of the envelope, in red rubber-stamped block letters, it said: REWRAPPED BY THE PHILADELPHIA B.M.C. I don’t know what B.M.C. stands for… Big Men in Cocktail Dresses? I’m unclear on it. But I sure didn’t get a warm fuzzy feeling from those block letters, of that I was certain.
And when I opened it at home, my fears were confirmed. The thing looked like it had gotten caught up in a thrashing machine, or some other piece of equipment used in industrial farming.
The postal workers (Black Men in Career Pants?) sent me the original envelope, as a courtesy, and it was shredded, wadded, and apparently flattened by something heavy. I didn’t even know it was possible for a large balled-up envelope to be mashed so flat.
Frowning, I looked at the manuscript itself, and saw that it started on page 147. The hell? Was Metten attempting some kind of weird experimental shit, here? Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to read it, after all… But when I saw that the second page was 23, I realized everything was mixed-up.
So I sorted it out, wrinkled page by wrinkled page. What a mess. Some were upside down, others were folded in half, and everything, almost literally, was out of order. How is that even possible? How could every single page be mixed-up? Had it exploded from a machine, high in the air, like the contents of Costanza’s wallet?
Three pieces of paper even had footprints on them… Adidas, I think, size 10.
About twelve random pages were missing completely, and Metten (between fucks and goddammits) scanned them and emailed ’em to me. Today I think I have the complete book, and suspect it’s roughly twice as thick as it was when mailed. You know, because of all the wrinkling and moisture-swelling.
Heh, it’ll be like reading something found in the walls of an old house. It’s on the table behind me right now, and every once in a while I can hear it crackle.
What do you think? Bloated Mexicans in Corduroy? Is that who repackaged Metten’s book? Please help me understand.
Also, on a completely unrelated note, what’s the most unusual or remarkable thing you’ve ever seen in a public restroom? I thought of this one at work last night, and couldn’t believe we hadn’t covered it before. It was one of those Eureka moments!
Toney tells a story of walking into a bathroom at a rest area somewhere, and finding a shotgun blast of diarrhea on the wall, with a pair of men’s(??) underwear stuck to it. Can you top that one?
Use the comments section below. And remember, it doesn’t necessarily have to be disgusting, just something unusual or remarkable.
And I have to go. This is my Friday, and I need to get it in the rearview mirror.
See ya tomorrow, at both sites.
1st!
Best thing I’ve seen in a bathroom is the quote “I’m not gay… I just like the taste”. Happy Humpday.
first?
1? Lil’ ol’ me?
Just marking my place, nothing to see here, please move along…
Come on Lucky # 7
#7
Top 3!
I’ll be back…
#9…..and please remove the picture of the nose lady, it freaks me out.
I once saw a drinking fountain in a public restroom (IN not just outside, which is gross enough) in a train station in Germany. I was revolted by the thought of using it.
The novel tragedy reminds me of what happens to Grady Tripp’s opus in Wonder Boys.
hmm . . . I seem to be very bold today. better than allcaps, I suppose.
Can’t believe so many of you posted before I submitted my first comment…
Anyhow, I’ve not been lucky enough to find anything unusual in a bathroom. Have heard others tell about left-behind underwear, though. I once came across a large puddle of crap on the floor inside a stall. It was so thin it looked like cake batter. I guess some poor soul just couldn’t make it to the toilet in time.
Jeff, your mail mishap sounds like something that happened to me recently. I received a mangled envelope from Netflix that had been ripped open and taped back together. Inside was a movie that I had not even ordered. Don’t know what happened to the one I requested, but it took over a week before another copy was sent my way.
QUESTION: If you love, or even like, Metten’s novel, it will obviously be easy to tell him so. But what if you hate it, or think it’s poorly written, or just plain sucks? What will you tell him? Will you lie, and say that you liked it? Or will you be brutally honest, and tell him the truth?
Your mail was ‘manipulated’ by
Bearded Mormon Chicks
or maybe
Bored Mutant Chinese
Bent Monkey Charmers
So why didn’t he just email you the novel, or at least the missing pages? Isn’t that easier than scanning, etc?
BMC = Bureau of Mail Chewers
Oddest thing found in a public restroom was a stash of old late-70s-era porn magazines hidden in the ceiling tiles of the men’s room at a restaurant I worked at in the late 80s. We were in the process of removing said tiles as part of a remodel when a rain of pages from OUI, CHERI, CLUB, and VELVET came tumbling down. We never did find who they belonged to, but the smart money was on the homeless guy who used to come in about twice a week and spend around a half-an-hour in the john. He never came back after the remodel was finished…
One time I saw a little rubber ducky, the kind that kids play with in the tub, sitting beside a filthy toilet in a gas station Men’s room.
Betty Motherfuckin Crocker
Mail repackaged by Big Mamma’s Cunt.
Used to drink in a bar called “Pollack’s Club”
Sign above the urinal :
“Welcome to Pollack’s Club. Do Not Eat The Large Mints”
Bureau of Manuscript Confounders
Broken Mail Center
or
Banged My Cousin
When I was a kid we used to go on roadtrips every spriing to visit my Uncle Jack in Arizona. We had stopped in a rest area in I believe Barstow, one of the many armpits of the universe and my little brother and I went to use the toilet. We freaked out when we walked in a saw a filthy vagrant passed out, asleep, dead, I don’t know….in the toilet stall door open pants around his ankles…toilet paper was every where don’t know what he was doing in there. Needless to say my brother and I got the hell out of there as fast as our OP corduroyed legs could get us. Absolutley terrifying.
PHILADELPHIA B.M.C = BULK MAIL CENTER
Good Afternoon Surf Reporters……..
strangest and most disturbing thing I ever saw in a restroom was at a rest stop on I-81 just north of Roanoke Virginia.
Someone had lost or left a prosthetic leg in the trash can. The shoe was still attached. You would think that person would be hopping out to their car thinking “damn, seems to me I’m forgetting something”
Right, it stands for bulk mail center. The address is http://www.phillybmc.com. Pretty boring stuff, actually. Lots of info for one of the postal workers’ unions there.
@ JCIII: Maybe the rest of the guy was in the other trash can.
At a bar my husband and I frequent, they had rustic wallpaper in the men’s room. It had pine trees and pine cones. bears and big deer (bucks) on it. Someone wrote with an arrow pointing towards the buck “eat me I’m delicious” .
Hmm… It’s not as funny if you type it out and try to explain it to others.
This joke seems appropriate for today’s question of the day:
WAL MART INTERVIEW
Jennifer a manager at Wal-Mart had the task of hiring someone to fill a job opening. After sorting through a stack of resumes she found four people who were equally qualified.. Jennifer decided to call the four
in and ask them only one question. Their answer would determine which of them would get the job.
The day came and as the four sat around the conference room table, Jennifer asked, ‘What is the fastest thing you know of?’
The first man replied, ‘A THOUGHT..’ It just pops into your head. There’s no warning.
‘That’s very good!’ replied Jennifer. ‘And, now you sir?’, she asked the second man.
‘Hmmm…let me see ‘A blink! It comes and goes and you don’t know that it ever happened.
A BLINK is the fastest thing I know of.’
‘Excellent!’ said Jennifer. ‘The blink of an eye, that’s a very popular cliché for speed.
‘She then turned to the third man, who was contemplating his reply.
‘Well out at my dad’s ranch, you step out of the house and on the wall there’s a light switch. When you flip that switch, way out across the pasture the light on the barn comes on in less than an instant. ‘Yep, TURNING ON A LIGHT is the fastest thing I can think of’ ..
Jennifer was very impressed with the third answer and thought she had found her man. ‘It ‘s hard to beat the speed of light,’ she said.
Turning to BUBBA, the fourth and final man, Jennifer posed the same question.
Old Bubba replied, ‘After hearing the previous three answers, it’s obvious to me that the fastest thing known is DIARRHEA.’
‘WHAT!?’ said Jennifer, stunned by the response..
‘Oh sure’, said BUBBA. ‘You see, the other day I wasn’t feeling so good, and I ran for the bathroom, but before I could THINK, BLINK, or TURN ON THE LIGHT, I had already shit my pants.’
BUBBA is now the new greeter at a Wal-Mart near you!
I’m Tracy, 32 yrs old…did some “sexy stuff” in bathrooms with some old boyfriends, but this stunt tops my accomplishments. I’m, peeing in a stall at a department store and the stall next to me has a chick sitiing on the toilet…and two Macy’s shopping bags in front of her feet. Sounds normal, right? The only difference was that there was a guy standing in front of the sitter…standing in the bags, a foot in each bag. She was giving him a great nob job right there in the next stall. I know because I peeked over the partition when I heard the slurping
Probably an old one but here goes: On the wall in a Dunbar pub, above the urinal was the message “Please do not throw toothpicks into the urinal, the crabs have learned how to pole vault”. Also, a note way close to the ceiling: “DAN JONES – DO NOT FUCK WITH”. WTF??? Still can’t figure that one out.
The one-eyed trouser trout that poked it’s head through the glory hole in the stall partition on I-80 was the wierdest thing I ever saw in a public baff-room.
This was in the men’s room of a fairly sleazy Vegas casino – forget which one but an older one up on Fremont St.
First time in the john I see a Hershey chocolate bar (the type with eight sections), completely unwrapped atop a urinal with one bite taken out of it. Next time in the men’s room the two sections of the candy bar with the bite marks were still there but the other six “clean” sections completely gone. Now I’m not a hyper-sanitary freak but what’s the thought process that says “candy bar touching urinal = clean, but nooooo way am I eating the pieces with them bite marks”
I’m leaving work in 15 minutes and driving to Montreal to see Slipknot. I’ll check the restrooms but my guess is that the most unusual thing in there will be some of the Slipknot fans AKA Maggots.
BMC = Bulk Mail Center
At a hole-in-the-wall bar in the town where I went to college, someone had written on the wall “It’s a good thing Ed’s not a bank teller…” My friends and I never could figure out who Ed was, but every time I go into a bank I check to make sure he isn’t behind the counter.
Bald Men on Crack
Blond Metrosexual Communists
Bohemian Malt Chuggers
Barnacled Mateys Churning
Breast Monkeys Chomping
My explanation for all the damage was that they had read it and were just doing what they felt was the right thing.
Reminds me of the SNL skit with the bellhops throwing the luggage.
Maybe they read it, scanned it, and are now publishing it. Metten, copyright now!
I was in a restroom stall where someone had written “Jesus is coming” on one of the walls. A little further down from that someone else had written “to a theater near you soon”. I still laugh when I think about that.
@Bill in WV That Dan Jones graffiti wouldn’t be at the Cold Spot, would it? Also, I think it is closely related to those h-i-l-a-r-i-o-u-s 15 foot tall “airmail” mailboxes you used to see all over.
burping moldy cows
bloated masturbating cads
banish me castro
OK – I used to work in a barthat was very very popular among the young drinking crowd. Good for the waitron, bad for the hygeine of the bathrooms. Oddest thing I’ve seen was a MOUNTAIN of used feminine hygiene items shoved under the sink vanity (through a very small hole). Someone either didn’t like us or had real issues with SOMETHING.
yes, we ‘plugged up the hole’ so those kinds of shenanigans couldn’t be repeated.
@Dogberry – nope at the sleeze-hole down from the bowling alley. My guess is that the graffiti was placed there to warn him not to step on the toilet to erase such messages because he tried that once and flipped the toilet over, causing a helluva flood. One word – barred!
Bowel Movement Champions
Speaking of which, for roughly all of third grade a massive, can’t-possibly-be-from-the-bowels-of-a-human-being turd could be discovered lazily floating in one of the toilets of the girls bathroom. Every day a new one. My friend and I were enraptured by this majestic poop. What manner of creature could squeeze out a loaf of that magnitude? We named it “shIT” (the “sh” was silent) and even recreated it in paper mache in art class, it was that extraordinary. Obviously its creator felt the same, for they never dared to flush it. That or it simply wouldn’t be flushed in its original state. It was never seen again after that year, but the magical feces lives on in our memories.
Last summer in the Sears women’s restroom in downtown Chicago I found a used pregnancy test lying on top of the toilet paper dispenser. It was negative. My first question was “Who takes a pregnancy test in a Sears bathroom?!” Followed quickly by “Who takes a pregnancy test in a public restroom and doesn’t throw it away?” I guess somebody who was very anxious then very happy.
I once walked into a Men’s room at Ryan’s Steakhouse and there was a guy in a shit covered stall that had hurled about three pounds of macaroni and beef into the sweat pants around his ankles.
For some reason some of my bills are showing up pre-opened via a slit along the top of the envelope. Only bills. Sometimes they’ll be taped back shut sometimes not. I have to say it’s mildly disturbing. It would be less so if they would just pay the damned things if they’re going to open them.
I’ve been thinking about sending myself some fake bills in hopes that good rumors get started. Maybe a bill from a seamstress for custom underwear specially modified for huge genitalia. Or bills from a brothel asking payment for a half a dozen wrecked prostitutes.
Being Metten’s Critic
Bulk Mail Center is just too boring.
@Great Googly Moogly
You may be a victim of identity theft. Get a credit report, get a lockable mailbox and call the popo if you find out something is wrong.
At a restroom somewhere in Alaska: candles burned down to a nub with wax drippings everywhere. Empty tube of K-Y Jelly. A couple of condom wrappers. Ripped panties hanging over the side of the garbage can. Satanic markings on the floor and mirror. Bloody feathers. A filthy pillow. You tell me what went on in there.
written on the wall in the “chelsea Potter ” (a pub in London) Help the Police! beat yourself up!”