The number of page hits that certain blog posts get on this website would suggest that Thought Leader readers like to read about the government, politics and how everything is going wrong, wrong, wrong with the ANC. You, the reader, want to discuss Zuma, Malema and those okes. Well, terribly sorry to disappoint. This isn’t one of those posts. I’m sure someone else will oblige. Heaven knows we never run out of material. Between the ANC, the communists, Helen Zille and the trade unions, the sackcloth and ashes never lay long in the closet.
Speaking of material, when I heard last week that President Jacob Zuma was going to take on yet another wife, I got an idea for a blog post. It would have been a satirical piece, hayibo.com like. I had it all in my mind. “President Jacob Zuma has pledged to end strife and racial divides in South Africa by marrying the entire country. According to the president, since he loves all his wives and children equally, people in South Africa would be truly equal for the first time ever.” Something like that. But after a week of procrastination, the moment has passed. Writing it now would be about as pointless as writing a satirical Hansie Cronje eulogy. Pity, it could have been quite good.
Now it must be stressed at this point that the rest of this blog post is going to be somewhat lavatorial. The title would have alerted you to that. I’m not sorry for that. See, I don’t understand why people have got to be so bashful when the subject of toilets and what goes on in them gets raised. Bowel movements are natural and very necessary. They’re as commonplace as sneezing, albeit more messy. It’s really not that weird. You do it as well. But thanks to the understanding that the subject of poo should never be raised in polite company, we all act as if we don’t ever cook some fudge. Grow a tail. Sink the Bismarck. Release the hounds, you know. In your lifetime, you will spend anything between 700 and 2000 hours on the john. Honestly, are we going to pretend that a large chunk of our lives simply doesn’t exist? Ridiculous. I aim to rectify that. Let’s talk about the bog, shall we?
I can safely assume that the common-or-garden porcelain bowl is your toilet of choice. You wouldn’t choose squatting over a pit over a nice, clean and very cold porcelain bowl. Not unless you’re “special”. I don’t believe I have a large following in Japan so we can also assume that your necessarium doesn’t look like the captain’s seat on the Starship Enterprise. It doesn’t warm itself up, or soothe your straining bottom with warm water. It doesn’t play you Josh Groban songs. It just does its job, grimly and efficiently.
Loo time is you time, so it’s always fascinating to see what people put in their private toilets to pass the time whilst answering the call of nature. I don’t go with the obligatory magazines. For me, reading is an intense experience, it removes me completely from the present and deposits me wherever it is the author wants me to go. I’ve often snapped out of my reading trance only to find that I’d not satisfied my purge urge, despite having been on the pot for 20 minutes. So reading fails entirely. What I have on the bathroom door, facing the throne is a calendar. A simple, unassuming calendar. When I’m on the bog, I’m busy planning my week. Don’t tell me I don’t multi-task.
Your own privy probably has a ready supply of your favourite toilet paper. Surely you use the friendly 2-ply with the cute puppies on it? I can’t imagine why anyone would willingly suffer the indignity and shame of single-ply bog rolls. And 3-ply seems to be overdoing it a bit. 2-ply is the discerning man’s choice of lavatory paper.
The problems start when you find yourself at the mall, the service station or restaurant. Those toilets are a massive gamble, you simply don’t know what you might find. Excellent service, good food and delightful conversation will be ruined should you find that the restaurant toilets are a trial. Now, I don’t think it’s sexist of me to point out that it’s usually the ladies who have a massive problem with sub-par bathrooms. Many a man has expressed his enormous surprise when his spouse knowingly chose a restaurant with lesser food or service, simply because their toilets having locking doors. Also, on the matter of public toilets, I do wish proprietors would stop it with the fancy and difficult toilets signs. I remember on a certain day I went to a certain establishment, which shall remain nameless, to watch a football match. I suddenly found myself needing to go, but it was ten minutes before half-time and Arsenal were looking really good. I decided I could hold it for ten minutes, which almost turned out to be a fatal mistake, because by the time the match had finished I was bursting to go. The pain was crippling. I hobbled to the where the waiter had said the toilets were, clutching dramatically at my crotch and wincing with agony. My pain turned to dread as I reached the doors. The one door had a picture of an alien and the word “Mars” written optimistically under the alien’s face. I turned to the other door, was greeted by the baleful stare of another alien, and the word “Venus”. How was I supposed to decipher this nonsense in the moment of crisis? How was anyone supposed to know what this meant? And why? Why torture us like this? Why inflict your cleverness on a helpless people? Fortunately, I got a brilliant idea. I opened the Venus door and peeked in to see if there were any urinals. No urinals. Ergo, I was a Martian. Cunning saved the day. I’m still curious to know why I’m Mars, by the way.
Clearly there are many considerations when it comes to bathroom use. It’s not as simple as you might think. I have simple tastes. I pick the middle bathroom stall. No reason. I just like that one. I pick the urinal furthest from the currently occupied urinal. Eye contact at the urinals is embarrassing, so I try to avoid that as much as possible. Curious to know how others felt about bogs, I threw the question out on the interwebs: Do you have a favoured or preferred toilet? These are some of the answers. Enjoy.
- My one at home that I share with my daughter and visitors. My husband has his own. If I really MUST, I’ll use the one furthest away from the door at a restaurant / mall. No particular reason that I can think of though!
- I use the one closest one to the door, i read some scientific paper that says it would be the least used and hence cleaner. It makes sense because the majority would go for the furthest away for privacy.
- I use the one that involves the least effort getting to.
- At home is best, I’m funny about strange places and don’t like it if anyone can actually HEAR what’s going on.
- It’s all about the height. Bogs that are too high do not promote erm … ease. And toilet paper must be 2-ply. 1-ply is terrible and 3-ply is like trying to wipe your bum with a cushion.
- The secret, hidden throne at the CTICC. Prestine [sic], clean, and plenty of 3-ply.
Worst thing about the US: toilet stalls that provide almost no privacy because the gaps underneath the door are so high. The toilets at Mandela Square are pleasant because they offer privacy (and privacy, when you are a woman, is important).
Best peice of writing I’ve read in a ages!… And about the Mars and Venus thing, i think its because Mars has two moons, Phobos and Deimos. On the other hand, Venus does not have any moons!
I have to agree that North American toilets are the worst – it’s not just the gap underneath the doors but the vertical gaps on the door frame. It’s highly disturbing walking into the restroom and spotting someone wiping their lard arse through the door frame.
i’ve seen people drape toilet paper over the sides of the door frame in an attempt to get more privacy!
my other pet peeve is that many old school French bars and restaurants still have long drop toilets – while things are slowly changing it’s amazing having to deal with these piss drenched holes in the ground during a nice dinner.
The “Venus” and “Mars” signs were msot probably made in reference to the book “Women are from Venus, men are from Mars” by John Gray. It was published in 1992 and (as I understand it) is something of a self-help book or some-what-other in order to better understand the other sex. A quick Google search gave quite a few correct results, top of which was the Wikipedia article: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Men_Are_from_Mars,_Women_Are_from_Venus
Doesn’t anyone think it is a bit peverse to print cute puppies on loo paper?
Flowers are one thing, but dogs? What’s next … tarantulas? politicians?
Well, actually, the whole Mars/Venus thing comes from that absolutely godawful piece of trash of a book called: “Men are from Mars, women are from Venus”, which for some strange strange reason was touted as the “bible” for healthy relationships about 10 years back (someting to do with Mars having caves, and men, being cavemen at heart had to retreat to it or something equally ludicrous).
Personally, I absolutely judge the merit of the restaurant on their bogs. Many of “highly recommended” high end eateries have totally failed this test.
as regards whether we shud as per your allegory, simply allow the ruling elite (on both sides of the speaker) to apply their evacuatory whim at their discretion, or whether we shud demand one bowl for everyone… is something upon which i am not qualified to pronounce.
nonetheless… an encore please !!!
A friend had no water for two days. His facebook status update put the importance of the bog in perspective for me:
“After 2 days without water at home, I realised the most important asset in the house is…THE TOILET!..so plz…when you get home pamper that baby..get you Mr. Muscle, toilet freshener, Domestos and even a scented candle..I declare it TOILET APPRECIATION DAY!!”
I actually do have a favorite toilet, at home i use the outside toilet, for privacy, no kids knocking asking if they can have more juice. i find that @ work i stick to one stall closest to the door and i find it hard to use resturant and filling stations toilets but when i really have to i use the closest and think of a happy place.
I went to Primi Piatti in East London the Male loo is adjecent to the ladies with the sink between the two stalls and the male stall does not have a door so while the ladies are touching up their make up the is a gentleman facing the wall right next her you making waterfall noises, now thats what i call no privacy.
At school we used to get the juniors to sit on the loo and warm it for the seniors on those cold winter mornings…as a junior we poo pooed that idea, but knew that one day the throne would be warm for our bottoms too!
China without doubt has the most backward toilet system, even Mao himself spoke at length about it…
Brilliant piece of writing this. There’re way too many dimensions to the psychology of the lav for it not to be discussed more often. I commend you. Forward, Comrade! Forward!
When I told a friend (a civil engineer) that I preferred double-ply he said: ‘Take a piece of single-ply, fold it in two and you have double-ply.’ We’ve used single-ply since. Twice as much, perhaps, but single-ply, all the same.
Whatever happened to bidets? At 18, my ambition was to own a bidet…it still is. Especially during the Durban summers when we all perspire so much that our knickers end up unpleasantly damp, particularly in the groin area!
Grrr…. no-one study the classics anymore?
Mars was the warrior, the Roman god of War.
Venus the god of Love.
That where the book got it from. The loos -heaven knows..