A Not So Privy Privy
Written by David M. Muench

An online friend recently sent me these pictures with the following text:


Here's a picture of a public toilet in Switzerland that's made entirely out of one-way glass. No one can see you in there, but when you are inside, it looks like you're sitting in a clear glass box.







A few years ago I too experienced an over-exposed facility. But this one was in a local deli called "City Bites". After locating the bathroom sign I strode briskly (I reeeally had to go) to the door, noticing the large bank of mirrors covering the outside wall.

I stepped into the bathroom, closed the door behind me, and immediately discovered that the bank of mirrors was the wall. Eyes wide, I froze in my tracks. "What the hell kind of freaky exhibitionist bathroom is this?" I muttered to myself. I could see every single patron in the dining area. Never in my adult life have I had to experience urinating in front of complete strangers that didn't involve alcohol and strippers. It didn't matter that they couldn't see me. What did matter is that I could see them.

Trying to quell the uneasiness, I approached the toilet while eyeing a young woman walking perilously close to the mirrored wall. I nearly blurted out, "Hey, I'm trying to pee here!" I knew that nobody could actually see me, but that didn't stop me from bending my knees down as far as I could go without urinating on my legs. In my pitifully contorted state I couldn't help but think of the comically physical antics of Mr. Bean. Although I've never seen an episode called "Mr. Bean Urinates In a One-Way Mirrored Bathroom."

By the time I had finally assuaged myself that it's safe to let loose I resembled some sort of odd, cubist sculpture rendered by an artist on acid. No matter how uncomfortable you are, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

So I went.

After completing this unecessarily arduous task I exited the bathroom posthaste and left the deli - never to return again. Mind you, I still use public facilities, but the only damned mirrors I see better be on the inside, without a view.

The Enamel Ranger
Written by David M. Muench


I bought a Colgate toothbrush the other day, and I'm astounded by the deluge of dental products that now exist. The toothbrush I purchased is a multi-colored ergonomic model that indubitably has the same drag coefficients as an F-16. It's like I'm brushing my teeth with a Power Ranger.

And the toothbrush package has a number in the corner. The one I bought has "57." I looked at all the packages at the store, and they all had different numbers. What the hell is that? Lottery numbers? Being the inquisitive guy I am, I went to Colgate.com to see if I could locate the answer to my mind-boggling query.

What I discovered is that they have eight different kinds of "manual" toothbrushes. They actually have one called the Colgate Navigator. Navigator? What are you going to do, get lost going to your mouth? "Damn it, I shoved the toothbrush up my ass again. I knew I should have bought the Colgate Navigator!"

And there's a Colgate Total Professional, which is good, because I don't want to put something that's not a total professional in my mouth. To cover all bases, they should sell a brush called Colgate Complete Idiot, ideal for those who put toothbrushes up their asses.

The Colgate Extra Clean toothbrush contrives the idea that the other models are lacking in the clean department. But with this new "Extra Clean" toothbrush you can get that extra special level of clean.

There are a few more, but I digress. I did find out that I have an "Active Angle" brush (I think the inactive angle brush just sits on the couch watching television all day).

And I never ascertained the meaning behind that freakin' number.

A Not So Privy Privy

A Not So Privy Privy
Written by David M. Muench

An online friend recently sent me these pictures with the following text:

Here's a picture of a public toilet in Switzerland that's made entirely out of one-way glass. No one can see you in there, but when you are inside, it looks like you're sitting in a clear glass box.





A few years ago I too experienced an over-exposed facility. But this one was in a local deli called "City Bites." After locating the bathroom sign I strode briskly (I reeeally had to go) to the door, noticing the large bank of mirrors covering the outside wall.

I stepped into the bathroom, closed the door behind me, and immediately discovered that the bank of mirrors was the wall. Eyes wide, I froze in my tracks. "What the hell kind of freaky exhibitionist bathroom is this?" I muttered to myself. I could see every single patron in the dining area. Never in my adult life have I had to experience peeing in front of complete strangers that didn't involve alcohol and strippers. It didn't matter that they couldn't see me. What did matter is that I could see them.

Trying to quell the uneasiness, I approached the toilet while eyeing a young woman walking perilously close to the mirrored wall. I nearly blurted out, "Hey, I'm trying to pee here!" I knew that nobody could actually see me, but that didn't stop me from bending my knees down as far as I could go without urinating on my legs. In my pitifully contorted state I couldn't help but think of the comically physical antics of Mr. Bean. Although I've never seen an episode called "Mr. Bean Urinates In a One-Way Mirrored Bathroom."

By the time I had finally assuaged myself that it's safe to let loose I resembled some sort of odd, cubist sculpture rendered by an artist on acid. No matter how uncomfortable you are, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

So I went.

After completing this unecessarily arduous task I exited the bathroom posthaste and left the deli - never to return again. Mind you, I still use public facilities, but the only damned mirrors I see better be on the inside, without a view.

The Enamel Ranger

The Enamel Ranger

Written by David M. Muench



I bought a Colgate toothbrush the other day, and I'm astounded by the deluge of dental products that now exist. The toothbrush I purchased is a multi-colored ergonomic model that indubitably has the same drag coefficients as an F-16. It's like I'm brushing my teeth with a Power Ranger.

And the toothbrush package has a number in the corner. The one I bought has "57." I looked at all the packages at the store, and they all had different numbers. What the hell is that? Lottery numbers? Being the inquisitive guy I am, I went to Colgate.com to see if I could locate the answer to my mind-boggling query.

What I discovered is that they have eight different kinds of "manual" toothbrushes. They actually have one called the Colgate Navigator. Navigator? What are you going to do, get lost going to your mouth? "Damn it, I shoved the toothbrush up my ass again. I knew I should have bought the Colgate Navigator!"

And there's a Colgate Total Professional, which is good, because I don't want to put something that's not a total professional in my mouth. To cover all bases, they should sell a brush called Colgate Complete Idiot, ideal for those who put toothbrushes up their asses.

The Colgate Extra Clean toothbrush contrives the idea that the other models are lacking in the clean department. But with this new "Extra Clean" toothbrush you can get that extra special level of clean.

There are a few more, but I digress. I did find out that I have an "Active Angle" brush (I think the inactive angle brush just sits on the couch watching television all day).

And I never ascertained the meaning behind that freakin' number.