Girls are (privately) very dirty creatures.

Location in point: my office toilet.

You'd think that, with so many girls in the office, all of us educated professionals, someone would at least know how to flush the toilet.

Or at least, look behind to check whether there are any... leftovers.

Every year (or when the company gets the chance), we are reminded to keep the bathrooms clean, to not gross people out be considerate of others, etc., but... eh. Our cubicle doors even have paper reminders taped on their insides. Some of them are at squat level; for purposeful (though I doubt its intended effectiveness) reading while tinkling.

Speaking of 'tinkling', this reminds me of a phrase:

If you sprinkle when you tinkle, 

be a sweetie and wipe the seatie.

The rhyming helps make it adorable :)

Just today, I saw a massive turd the size of a meatball (of the spaghetti kind, not the fishball-beefball variety) in the front part of the squat bowl in one of the cubicles, and a few hours later, another toilet (bowl, this time) wasn't flushed properly and there was... residue.

...wait, I can't call it 'residue', that means 'little'. By any indication, the water was already murkied up, so 'residue' is not the appropriate word to use.

Right now, the right word does not come to mind. But it'll come.

[It always does. *snide laughter*]

Seriously, all the time taken by the girls in my office to look pretty (and they do doll themselves up!), and they can't even spare a bloody second to look back at what they literally crapped out.

It doesn't even take a MINUTE to be this considerate.

I tend not to hear any complaints about the men's bathroom (or maybe my ear-dar isn't as good as I think it is), but the way I see it, guys only just have to worry about your average browns and yellows.

We girls, on the other hand, have also to keep an eye out for the reds.

Every other week I see red (ha ha), be it diluted or be haemoglobin-rich. Every other week I wonder how is it that these girls can't even notice red-on-porcelain white, which is FAR easier to notice compared to yellow/brown variations-on-porcelain.

One time, I saw a big drop (about an inch in diameter) by the cubicle door. Never mind whether the lighting made the brown look red or whether my eyes need to be checked. The viscosity was too thick to be water and the flippin' cubicle door is at least two feet away from the squat bowl.

How on bloody (literally) earth did that drop get all the way over there?!! I mean, you would have to do some serious gymnastics to get your, ahem, vajayjay all the way there.

It's unfathomable.

The only way I can imagine that getting there is: if the person, having realised there was no more toilet paper in that cubicle, ran out, grabbed the paper towels by the sink, and ran back into the cubicle again without having made herself presentable before exiting said cubicle.

I don't think I need to elaborate my definition of the word 'presentable'.

I shudder for both her sake, and that of the if-unfortunate-enough fellow female who happened to tag into the bathroom common at the moment our culprit had her pants around her legs.

[I rule out skirts. Drippings would more likely to get onto the skirt, rather than the floor.]

This post brought to you by eternal optimism. Oh, wit (or at least, some semblance of wit), how have I missed you!