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2002-04-15 6:14 p.m.

I am writing this diary entry from inside the handicapped stall of the fourth floor bathroom at work. From this secret vantage point—sitting on the toilet, pants around my ankles—I can not only experience the the final release of fully processed food and drink from last night's Chiopotle dinner, but also quietly listen to the sounds of my fellow employees as they practice the secret rites of egestion and excretion.

Hmm...People keep coming in to use the urinals. It is always number 1, but never number 2. Maybe the people on this floor are shy—the kind of people who hold it and then go at home?

One thing I hear is that they always wash their hands after they use the restroom. I wonder why they do it? The only reason I wash my hands at work is out of courtesy for the other employees—sort of a token gesture that basically says, "I will not reach my hand into my anus and then rub it in your eyes and mouth, without your explicit request, that is." I admit there is another reason I wash my hands, too: I pick my nose a lot, and I would hate for any noticeable bits of urine and/or feces to accidentally make their way into my nose.

I wonder how many people sneak in here and masturbate discreetly? Not everyone has an office, and, for some, this may be the most privacy they can get during a work day. More importantly, I wonder how many people sneak in here and masturbate openly at full volume, making no attempt to hide their slurping, squeezing, and spurtin noises—maybe even bringing a PA system to amplify it to painfully high sound pressure levels—standing on the counter–tops, making exaggerated gyrating motions, all the while liters and liters of lube spilling all over the stark walls and tile floor. They would definitely need both of those rolls of toilet paper to wipe up. Maybe even a mop. Somebody better call the janitor.

I wonder how many people do that each day? Hm, none so far, but I have only been here for a few minutes now. My imagination wanders. I hear more hand–washing.

Now I am going to do something which brings me extreme pleasure. I am going use Apple's brilliant AirPort technology to post this to the web from the luxury of the handicapped stall. Hooray for technology!