Monday, October 22, 2007

the ghost...

Some genius in my building dropped the last roll of toilet paper into the toilet.
That's great.
This wouldn't happen if people would stick toilet paper IN the dispenser as opposed to on it.
So, um, what do you do if you drop a roll of toilet paper in the toilet?
Apparently, you place it on that back of the toilet, because it might dry and become good as new. If this weren't horrific enough, I had to go in the men's room and and steal toilet paper from them. And while I know this is ridiculous, I have a huge phobia about going in men's rooms. It really freaks me out, as if I'm breaking the unspoken 11th Commandment.
Thow shalt not enter the restroom of the opposite gender.
Which reminds me of a story Alex has been desperate that I blog about.
I work in this funky old building, virtually empty except for my coworkers and the occasional scraggler who drops entire rolls of toilet paper in the toilet. Our building has been managed for a million years Frank who looks like he's about 102 years old and smells of whiskey. Frank drives a tan hatchback which he parks out in back, filled with so much crap, there's barely room for a driver. Frank pops by once or twice a week, hands us our newspaper and then stands around rambling on about nothing.
So, a couple of months ago I spent a Friday in my office alone. I took advantage of the situation of course, showing up late, leaving early, wandering to downtown Mill Valley for lunch. I listened to my iPod and didn't talk to a soul all day.
Monday, everyone's back in the office and some man from PG&E shows up claiming he has an appointment with Frank. We explain that Frank wanders around when he feels like it.
So PG&E gives us a lecture about gas and splits.
Not 15 minutes later, 2 middle aged women come in.
"We're here about Frank."
"Oh, I don't think Frank's around right now." I casually respond. "Someone was just here looking for him and he's not here."
They gave each other nervous, knowing looks.
"You mean you don't know?"
"Know what?"
"Frank's dead. We're from the County. I can't believe no one told you."
"Dead!?! Frank? Oh my god, when?"
"Friday."
"When Friday?"
"Lunchtime, I think. His ladyfriend was worried when Frank didn't come home for lunch. So she called someone who came over here to find Frank."
"And?"
"And they found him dead."
"Here?"
"Yeah."
"On Friday?"
"Yeah."
Oh my god. I was here alone with a dead body. Dead Frank!
So now I'm convinced he's haunting this old building and probably knows that I went in the men's room to steal toilet paper...

5 comments:

sfmike said...

He was probably IN the men's room. Expect to be haunted for the rest of your life.

Anonymous said...

Women are nastier than men when it comes to public bathrooms. The bitches in my building leave the butt gaskets on the toilet after they've used them! WTF!

Becky said...

Totally creepy.

Marge said...

Oh that's sad! R.I.P. Frank.

angela_cvnl said...

Whaaaaaaaaaaaat? I would have had a total meltdown!! Breathe! Breathe!! and THEN to find out about Frank, too??? Call in sick and stay home and watch on demand stuff, I say!