Bones to Pick, Seats to Wipe, Color Me Beautiful, GO SUPREMES!!!!

I have an issue with the women of BC Law.

More specifically, I have an issue with the women of BC Law who can't keep a seat clean.

More specifically, I have an issue with the women of BC Law who can't keep a seat clean in the faculty bathroom of Stuart Third Floor.

More specifically, I have an issue with the women of BC Law using said bathroom who practice the Hover Manuever made popular by the first arrival of HIV and AIDS onto the American scene and by countless mothers taking it upon themselves, in the wake of learning that Fido's rump-cleaning tongue was a "safer haven from bacteria than the porcelain seats at Starbucks," to teach their daughters either of the following two methods when seeking relief in public restrooms:

1. The Paper Method. This was DC's favorite and a staple of all family car trips: before sitting on any toilet at any time anywhere, take a 1/4 roll of toilet paper -- preferably made in America and prayed over in the confines of your own home -- and lay one long strip of paper down the left side of the toilet seat, another down the right, and one strip over the middle. Note any spots that turn a telltale yellow: if spottage is minimal, double up your papering efforts. If the seat's too wet still, DON'T TOUCH IT. Call your mother in for backup, and for heaven's sake, Jessica, can't you learn to look at a seat before you choose a stall?! (Cough. Residual issues.) When you're done pretending you can't hear the Herculean efforts of the woman sitting to your left, make sure to flush your makeshift toilet germ prophylactic and, using the Force, exit the stall without opening the doors with your hands.

2. The Hovercraft, aka "Pop a Squat." Usually reserved for outdoor escapades and national forests of remote African countries, the squat's popular with the athletic crowd because it strengthens thigh muscles and prevents having to touch anything, ever. But-- and this is key --the squat's not for those who prefer a leisurely stream. One reason for this is that strength and honor in the stream promote accuracy: you pee hard, you pee fast, you pee straight into the landing zone. And the best part is that, since you haven't come near touching the seat, you can usually justify touching the door. Logical? No. But I'm disease-free, so I must be doing something right.

Leisurely Hover Girls, bane of my current existence, leave some telltale drip patterns, and for the life of me I can't figure out why one would ever want to risk coming out of a stall, finding someone ready to walk into that stall, and then suffering the embarassment that comes when someone deems it's too dirty for them to use, thankyouverymuch. Does no one take professional responsibility for their actions any more?! Honestly! What makes the Hovering Population that, in my experience, generally shows greater distaste for touching the seat at all because of the hidden filth, think it's okay to just leave a visible mess for someone else to have to deal with? WHAT?! What?!


This has been a pointless rant brought to you by the letter I don't care if you're a bigshot law student, clean up your own da*n mess, and what would Harriet Miers do? (Besides serve coffee and donuts at church on Sundays. Oh, and get nominated for the Supreme Court. Speaking of which, personal life goals: one down, one to go.)

Editor's note: This blog was updated to include the supremely awesome link to what, I'm sure, is actually HM's blog. Thanks to Krish for the link. GO SUPREMES!!