They say that the Mona Lisa keeps on staring at you even if you move around.
Dunno. Personally, I think she’d get bored after a while*.
* Unless she’s actually playing Stare! all this time, in which case she’s the #1 player EVER.
* SUPER-IMPORTANT UPDATE!!! *
Apparently, people missed the joke.
If you want to get it, just stare at Mona Lisa for a minute.
Satisfaction guaranteed, or your money back!
(I don’t like needing to explain my own jokes, but the situation is dire.)
A short while back, I published a true story involving:
- Gross noises
- An embarrassing incident including both of the above
This made me wonder, which noise IS the grossest?
Why don’t we find out?
So I was at work on Friday.
And I had to go to the bathroom, which I did.
This wasn’t going to be one of those quickie “I’ll be back in a jiffy! Make sure no bugs fall into my coffee!” ventures to the b-room.
Uh-uh. This was one of the “Oh my God, I really shouldn’t have used that funny-smelling milk for my coffee (even though it hadn’t officially expired yet); If I’m not back in half an hour, please call an ambulance” kind.
So there I was, earning a programmer’s salary while sitting on the toilet and thinking philosophical thoughts, when the noise started.
Let me tell you that I am very sensitive to noise (especially to the noise of a flowerpot hitting me on the head).
And this noise that I heard now wan’t just any noise.
It was coming from one of the next stalls, and it included practically every gross sound imaginable.
Before you read the list of horrible sounds I heard, make sure you aren’t grossed out by gross things!
Anyway, here’s the Dreadful List of Noises From Hell that came from the other stall:
- Phlegmy coughing!
- …Which was followed by juicy spitting!
- …And sometimes by loud swallowing noises!
- And last of all: Huge, sickening, wall-shaking belches!
You really should have heard those belches.
I had never heard anything like them, and I fervently wish I never hear anything like them ever again.
Anyway, I had a most unpleasant time in the bathroom.
Eventually, I heard the guy unlock his door, walk out of his stall, and start washing his hands.
(At least he had some sense of hygiene.)
Half a minute later, I was done.
I stepped out of my own stall, and our eyes met.
“Our eyes met” can sometimes be a good thing.
But it wasn’t, on this occasion.
No-sirree, it was not pleasant aaat all.
It was one of those “He knows that I know that he knows that I know that we both know that he did it, and we both wish neither of us was here at the moment” moments.
I mean, I know the guy, sort of.
We run across each other sometimes at work, though I’m not sure exactly what his name is.
Anyway, the man lowered his eyes quickly, and escaped from the men’s room as fast as he could without making it obvious that he was running away.
I felt bad for him, whatever his name was again.
And then, the cacophony of gross noises started again.
I turned around, and realized that another of the stalls was occupied.
Somebody was still in there, burping and snorting a gurgling and grunting and gassing to his heart’s content.
So it hadn’t been that other dude after all!
And there I was, thinking that it had been him, when it hadn’t.
I became all philosophical again, and started thinking about how should give others the benefit of the doubt.
And then I dawned upon me to wonder what the other guy must have thought when our eyes met.