Musings From My Cubicle: Game of Thrones on the Ceramic Throne

Here’s the thing about work (at least for me): sometimes, it’s helluh busy and I’m running around like a chicken with my head cut off.  I’m all about quick responses to emails and getting shizz done.  But then there’s the other times when I have abso-fruitly NOTHING to do.  Perhaps it’s because I don’t dawdle with my tasks (*pats self on back*).  I like to think that’s the case anyways.

So during that time period when I’m relegated to staring at facebook and pinterest (neither of which refresh enough for my liking), I find myself sort of feeling guilty.  Except there’s nothing to feel guilty about.  It’s not like I’m not actively doing my job or looking for new things to do and instead am sitting watching an endless loop of cat vids on youtube.  There’s honest to God nadathang2do.  So I’m left with a dilemma.  Do I take a third stroll through Target to waste time and ponder the necessity of purchasing yet another bottle of shampoo?  Or do I do something that’s semi-educational and brain-challenging?  Oh, if only I could read a book at work!

Aha! What an idea! Enter the magic that is The Bathroom Stall.

Now before you get all “ummm…don’t you realize if you bring a book/newspaper into a stall EVERYONE knows you’re about to tear it up,” listen to my theory.  Women take their purses to the land of toilets all the time, right?  Right.  Because nobody wants to walk down the hall with a ginormous tampon dangling from their hand waiting to high five the next passerby.  So we all do the “carry the purse into the stall” thing.  Very sneaky in our minds, not actually sneaky to everyone else.  In fact, it would be less obvious that you were on the rag if you wore white pants and stood up looking like you’d accidentally fallen in red paint.  EVERYONE KNOWS.

So, with that fact of life in mind, I thought up the most brilliant feat in the world: placing a book in my purse and “using the bathroom” in the stall to waste otherwise pointless thumb-twiddling time.  Hypothetically, of course.

There’d be rules to this game though.  You could only read for about 15 minutes, 20 minutes tops.  Any more than that and eyebrows start to raise.  You also would have to be as silent as humanly possible while turning your book’s pages, ideally having the page turn coincide with a neighboring flush/sniffle/cough/rustle of toilet paper.  And then finally, to put the final flourish on the 007 mission, it would be ideal if you could rustle toilet paper or one of those feminine hygiene bags and open and close the little disposal box.

Who cares if everyone thinks you’re ruling the land known as PMS?!  You’re reading Game of Thrones on the Ceramic Throne, yo!  Can’t beat the punny-ness of that, now can ya?!

(This PSA has been brought to you by Charmin; the only toilet paper that makes you feel exactly like a cartoon bear).


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