ome time in the last week or so, Jeff finally dragged me to a sushi restaurant he had been dying to try. I admit I was pleasantly surprised by the clean and contemporary decor. I was honestly just happy not to see 3 months worth of unpaid bills, used tissues, and a box of Frosted Flakes on a corner table. The food was excellent too. I filled my plate with Mongolian beef and broccoli, steamed rice, and lo mein. I made a mental note to come back for fresh baked apple crisp. Well, halfway through my lo mein Grace started bugging me about going to the bathroom. She does this at every single restaurant without fail. So I walk her back to the potty and stand outside the stall, while she does her business. After a few minutes she beckons me to wipe her ass. Opposite of the john there s a handwritten sign. It stated:"Please do not throw toilet paper into the toilet"
Surely that was a misprint. Why wouldn't you throw toilet paper into the toilet? Whoever put that sign there made some kind of mistake. But, as hard as I tried not to look, I did. I looked into the little garbage can beside the pot. And it was full of...you know. Used TP. Streaks and everything.
I would have puked if I hadn't feared that a piece of toilet paper was going to jump out of the trash can and touch me.
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