You know what makes ’smell’ work, don’t you? it’s little tiny pieces of whatever it is that break off in the air and float to make direct contact with your nose’s smell receptors. So, when you breathe through your mouth, you’re getting you-know-what in your mouth.

Just because I can piss standing up, does not mean I want to do it next to some other dude. I will confess, I will go into stalls to piss if others are in the bathroom. I have a nervous bladder. It is shy.

Dr. E.– Damn you! I figured it might be Irish Bob, though. I seem to remember some stories about his bathroom exploits….

HB– Aha! Someone else’s shoes! Brilliant! I will just beat up someone from the Folklore office (beside mine; loud, inconsiderate brutes) and take theirs. They all wear Birkenstocks, of course, so there will be no mistake about whom to blame.

OP– Argh. Don’t get me started about the elevators in the building. Nightmarish!

C– Matches–good idea. I have a ton of those hanging around at home.

M– Damn, you put a lot of planning into this! I can’t believe you go during class! This cracks me up!

J- it’s true! The only solution is an oxygen mask, I’m afraid.

T– They don’t have to, though. Not all the time.

A-B– Well, at least I have comfort in the fact that I don’t have to share with a bunch of guys. As to the F-word, yay! I do fucking love that word, and I certainly can’t get away with it in class. I mean, some professors do curse in their lectures, but I think it tends to seem like a desperate attempt to appear young and hip and “with it,” as the kids used to say. La-hame.

O– I’ve never heard of that stuff–I’ll have to investigate. Sounds good.

C– Aaack! You definitely have me beat there! Gross. Stall conversation freaks me out, too. Once I ran into a (former) student in a bar bathroom, and she kept drunkenly trying to engage me in conversation long after I had gotten into the stall and begun my business. So awkward. I hope your place is well stocked with soap and/or hand sanitizer. I am feeling the urge to wash up just thinking about it.

J– Oh, dear! That sounds scary indeed. I imagine there’d be quite a job removing the canteloupes from the toilet after, though. In that case, just deny, deny, deny.

Do this once, and you will have the place to yourself for the rest of your tenure.