I'm sitting here musing about the latest public restroom demands made by the GLBT people. Public restrooms are a sore spot with me. I like a nice, clean restroom for taking care of my needs, but that's getting hard to find. It seems that people that don't have the concerns we do go into public restrooms and turn a perfectly good toilet into a germ-infested porcelain hellhole. Now don't get me wrong, thank goodness I don't have to sit on their disgusting work of art, but having to look at it is bad enough. I always try to leave a public restroom in better condition than when I found it, but for those occasions when some thoughtless individual explodes into and onto the throne and then just leaves it for the next guy... well, it gripes the heck out of me. That being said, I'd like to address the subject of the health and well-being of those of us who have to use public facilities to carefully empty our juice bags. I find it always uncomfortable to have to follow up a nice dinner at some swanky, high-cost feed trough by making a trip to the restroom, but food goes through me quick as a whistle and usually before it's time to pay for our dinners, it's also time to visit the latrine. Invariably, there are other folks already standing in line and they take a whole lot longer to relieve themselves than I do. And since the GLBT'ers all want to use the men's room, those lines are going to get even longer. There are two reasons for that. Number one: they first have to clean up the mess the last guy left before they can take a seat, and number two: the number 2 stuff takes a lot longer to slide out of them than it does to slide out of my plastic bag. But once I get up to the front of the line, my bag is starting to get to an overinflated condition and so as I take my turn, there is the terrible sound of the rushing of high-pressure slurry along with the accompanying perfume from partly digested victuals. Unfortunately, those in the line behind me don't seem to enjoy the aroma and I always get dirty looks and even an occasional comment like, "Hey buddy, you better see a doctor." Well, my name isn't Buddy, and seeing a doctor is what got me to where I'm at today. And that leads me to the point of this short article... us folks with ostomies need to have a nice, clean, private, lockable restroom to take care of our necessities. It should have a toilet, a urinal, a powerful evacuation fan, a waste sink for rinsing out our bags, and plenty of soap and paper towels for washing up when we're done. And since it's designed for one person at a time, it could be used by both men and women. If the high-class eating establishment or any other business, for that matter, wants to be extra accommodating, they could have a card reader so we could pay our bill and add a fifty-cent tip while we're still in the commodious room. Yes, sir, that's what we need. If you agree with me, let's organize and do riots and all that stuff and get this thing done.
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