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Fried Pork Intestine, Crab Rangoon, Hong Kong Style spaghetti

How I Landed Here: Going to The Great Wall too early in the morning, deduced to Sweet Station due to it being 8:30 A.M.

Directions: Left side of restaurant next too the apple-border.

Sights and Smells: Delicious food= aromas only matched by art like plates

This place is not somewhere you would run for an emergency poop. You must order and it is way too small and well-manned that there is no avoiding the employees. To avoid any scruple order a soda for $1.25, especially you don't want your head imploded by the delicious food. Once order is made feel free to go to the lavatory.

The restroom is small with black tile countered by the colorful neon colors of the extra toilet paper. No urinal? No Problem! The upkeep is so good I think every time a patron uses the restroom someone checks on it. Seriously, this place feels like a food spa; I even fell asleep once in the restroom due to the "itis" inducing food, music, and tea.

The men's restroom is a single person adventure so feel free pull out a pallet to sleep on. Power naps will be needed after getting stuffed, and with the isolation and surrealism you will feel after eating a wet crepe sanity is only a dream away. So with that said make sure to bring a friend just incase you have a crapsplosion brewing and make the relaxing journey to the potty.

THE TOILET PAPER IS SOOOOOOFFFFFTTTTT!!!!!!!!
GrigoriRasputin1988 Male, 28 years old.
Chicago, Illinois
On November 26, 2013, 3:04 pm
What I Did in Here: Tinkled

Water. I feel cleansed.

This bathroom is oddly placed in the front area of the restaurant. Peaches always as a wait, so now that it's cold out expect everyone to be waiting in that front room. This is especially true during brunch, when they get really packed. In other words, I tend to feel like I'm doing my business yet still standing in that area with everyone else. It's weird.

The bathroom is tiny, and I'm a pretty small gal. I have a hard time getting around while I'm in there. Also, I feel like everyone can hear what I'm doing, but the restaurant is loud, so I'm probably just paranoid. I have a family friend who has a similar bathroom that's in her dining room. It just feels odd. I don't like an audience when I'm having toilet time. I also like to take my sweet jolly time when I'm in the bathroom, assuming there's no line, so it's strange having people monitoring the situation.

The other problem is, once you're seated and have to use the bathroom, it's a really far trek to go all the way back to the front of the restaurant. Ok, so it's not as far as maybe an Applebee's bathroom might be (aka almost a car-ride away down a ramp, through an alcove, etc.), but it's still far. Especially after waiting a long time in that area to be seated, once I'm finally seated I prefer to stay put, get cozy, and never see that front area again (I block it out as I exit.) So it sucks when you have go to back up there, with people scowling at you because they are hungry and you are wasting precious time using the bathroom when you could be eating your chicken and biscuits. Seriously. People get hangry at brunch!

My advice: do your business and get out. Avoid eye contact with others upon exiting. Transition back into a lively conversation with your friends, and pretend you never went to the bathroom at all.
pottyprincess Female, 30 years old.
Brooklyn, New York
On November 26, 2013, 2:38 pm
What I Did in Here: I used the bathroom for urinating purposes.

Coffee. Feeling alive.

This bathroom has a rad handmade pulley system for closing the door. Though it was broken once when I was here, I did make a friend because of it (the guy who stumbled in on me while I was crouched over the toilet.) Catfish brings people together.

There are two of these intimate, cozy, and eclectic bathrooms at Catfish, past the bar, on the right, before you reach the very back area of the restaurant. The communal sink is in the middle, which also always allows for a delightful conversation to occur with whoever is in line, also hand washing, or just standing there. (Hmm..people do tend to linger around the bathrooms here. That's because the bathrooms are where it's at!)

You can tell a lot of love was put into the creation of the restroom area at Catfish. That's why I feel at home when I do my business there. I suggest you treat it with the care you would use at a fancy home in the South. In other words, don't be an animal and ruin one of my favorite bathrooms. Thanks.

pottyprincess Female, 30 years old.
Brooklyn, New York
On November 26, 2013, 2:24 pm
What I Did in Here: I used the toilet like a lady.

Coronas & a half eaten bag of Fritos I found under the radiator

Welcome to Lucifer’s Sex Dungeon. Holy Boo Berry is this place a nightmare. Every time I'm in here I find myself distracted by some sort of new infestation coming out of the partially tiled wall and end up pissing all over my jeans. In the corner you’ll find a pile of broken tiles which have fallen off the wood paneling and are covering a perpetually growing brownish-red mound which is either a rat’s nest, Satan’s afterbirth, or a combination of the two. Try not to stare too long; you’ll only upset it.

Be forewarned that once you begin using the urinal, you set off a chain of horrific events of biblical proportions. First, as you begin urinating, a swarm of fruit flies slowly fly off the urinal cake. These little suckers will fight like hell to fly underneath your ball sack and up your butthole. While their motivation is unclear, my guess is this is either retribution for disturbing their slumber or, more likely, a means of harvesting their eggs inside you in order to spread their population to your next dumping ground.

Like a demented game of mousetrap, disrupting the fruit flies directly triggers the awakening of the infestation hidden in the wall directly behind you. This wall spews out all sorts of jaw dropping creatures which would strike fear into the heart of even the most seasoned zoologist, from centipedes that look like they crawled right out of the amazon to jumbo flying cockroaches. One evening I looked over my shoulder (which, as always, caused me to piss all over my jeans) and a red eyed beetle flew directly into my forehead. Usually around the same time these critters make their way out of the wall, the thing in the corner starts rumbling, something starts breathing heavily from the partially destroyed dropped ceiling, and I begin whimpering like a three year old. Every time I’m in here I feel like I’m smack dab in the middle of an H.G. Wells novel and it’s only a matter of time until Josef Mengele hops out of the toilet in a blood stained lab coat and starts vivisecting my privates.

To make matters worse, the entire room is only three by four feet and there is no dividing wall between the urinal and the toilet, both of which are only about a foot away from one another. Despite the close proximity between the two and the lack of any divide, I cannot even count how many times I have been using the urinal in here and someone else just strolls on in and starts urinating in the toilet beside me. So not only do I have to be concerned about insects trying to fly inside me, but now I have to worry about backsplash from the guy with the mullet vigorously pissing a foot away from me. Awesome.

The toilet itself is enough to make one vomit. Rumor has it that if you go number two in here, a black portal opens in the wall, from which a giant praying mantis emerges and attempts to drag you into another dimension.

If your girlfriend wants to go to a haunted house for Halloween, take her here instead. If your fiance wants to go to the rain forest for your honeymoon, have her close her eyes, lead her into this bathroom, close the door (which, by the way, has a gaping hole in the center of it, no handle, and doesn’t even close all the way), and scream ‘surprise’. If one day you find yourself entertaining a small family of pygmies, drop them off here for a couple of hours and they’ll feel right at home.

But please, whatever you do in here, don’t go to the bathroom. I honestly cannot believe this place passes state or federal regulations. Even by Mexican border town standards this place is frightening. Unzip at your own risk, fellow squatters.

Dumpmaster’s Advice: You’re better off going in your hand. Seriously.
Dumpmaster Male, 29 years old.
Elmira, New York
On November 25, 2013, 8:19 pm
What I Did in Here: Clenched my butt cheeks, whimpered like a six year old, and prayed for survival

Shrimp Basket, feeling awesome

Tom & Jerry's play the old cartoon all day long, so if you want nostalgia and reasonably priced food be my guest and try it out. My most frequented restaurant in Chicago is great with tons of vintage signs and posters everywhere. The restroom is to the left when you enter on the left side very last door. You will know you are there when you see the cute sign that says "No Girls Allowed!"

My only complaint is that the employees are really close by, maybe 10 feet away, so the silence needed to contemplate world domination will not occur. What can occur is handicap rail grabbing, toilet paper using, automated air-freshening, good ole flatulence induced squattage. The floor is clean while the employee checklist is on the door just if you are curious if you are sitting on Italian beef sweat from a co-squatter. Literally, I have eaten here over a dozen time and like clockwork the employees maintain the bathroom better than they could dream of maintaining their tables.

This is not a public restroom, so the sign says. Best way to avoid the denial of this glory-hole is to just smile wave and head straight to the restroom. It is also a solo restroom with a urinal so if there is a line hopping on the computer and checking Toiletfinder.com can prep you for the magnificence that is the men's room.
GrigoriRasputin1988 Male, 28 years old.
Chicago, Illinois
On November 25, 2013, 1:45 pm
What I Did in Here: Counted how long i could hold my breath

Tongue taco and two beef

Now FreeGeek isn't a normal trek for tourist or even native Chicagoans. I found the non-profit trying to find an alternative for getting a laptop for college. It seemed too good to be true, but nevertheless willingness to volunteer for 24 hours for a laptop was what mattered the most.

Now if you find yourself going here with a quaking sphincter the anxiety will culminate as you open the door with the signs pointing you into the basement... the start of a horror film. Thinking this was some type of tech geeks dungeon for dismembering broke-folk and making skin covered laptops DO NOT BE ALARMED! You just follow the hall and see the mess of refurbished hardware and grungy, underground nerds mulling around in a chaotic orgy of good nature. There is a table, the QA desk, likely with one of the philanthropists giving a discerning look, which you will have to ask where be the pooper.

Whoever you spoke to will give you basic direction: " they are directly behind me.", " hit the lights on.", and last but not least " lock the door." This is just protocol that must be first be followed if you don't want to dribble anal vomit down your leg, so follow your orders.

The restroom is surprisingly clean stocked with spray, toilet paper, two stalls, paper towels, and a sink. All the comforts of a private restroom, as well as privacy for those shy squatters. No one will be in there with you so you will find peace in all your grunting pleasure. The initial turn-off of all the mess is thrown out in this restroom. And to think this barely running non-profit's restroom is maintained by volunteers...

GrigoriRasputin1988 Male, 28 years old.
Chicago, Illinois
On November 25, 2013, 1:33 pm
What I Did in Here: Dropped excrements

480 sq. ft. of sports

If you're in/around Atlantic Terminal and don't want to use its passable, pedestrian facilities, I understand. Luckily, there's an entire mall on the same block, but, even better (!), is the Buffalo Wild Wings up the escalator through the entrance on Flatbush Ave.

It's like any other chain restaurant, except they card you at the door. Here is where I feel like a member of an exclusive pooping club, and I like that. And every employee is so wildly nice, that you can maintain that feeling of plastic importance throughout the night.

The bathroom is an anti-septic box, devoid of almost any smell but bleach. Though remarkably clean, my eyes hurt after a short 2 minutes of being in there, and I couldn't decide whether it was from a palpable cocktail of airborne cleaning chemicals or deliberately blinding fluorescent lights. Either way, the sting remained.

Personally, I would prefer a closet with a hint of cinnamon and the slight chance of an ant infestation, but, hey, I'm a sucker for charm.
bread Male, 26 years old.
Brooklyn, New York
On November 25, 2013, 1:47 am
What I Did in Here: Peed

NOTHING

On the corner opposite Legion, sparkling like the gem of the world wide sea it is, is White Castle. Even if there's only a slight tickle in your bowels, looking at White Castle is like staring at the sun to goad a sneeze into fruition. It's like voodoo. And Legion's facilities are far less haunting than what I imagine White Castle's might be. I do not and will never know what that might be like.

Legion is generally chill. There's a backroom with a tiny stage, a closed-in outdoor area for cigs, and a dancefloor that gets a fair beating of boots and boatshoes on the weekend. I was on my way home, walking along Metropolitan Ave., deciding on which doorway or corner was dark enough to pee in, and then consequently convincing myself I could hold out a little bit longer. This game of constant moral evaluation lasted until I felt a slight spurt soak into my underwear.

The bouncer didn't bother to i.d. me, and I walked straight to the bathroom at the back. Although I enjoyed the black and white tiled floor, the element of danger proved too much for the casual pee-er. The very tame hazard of a broken glass on the floor brought up flashbacks of getting a small piece of glass stuck in my foot, and being mildly irritated for three days. Who can take a doodie in such a time of strife? I did, however, like the seeming encouragement to literally do whatever I wanted, and so I almost peed in the corner while waving to the toilet. That kind of freedom is hard to come by.
bread Male, 26 years old.
Brooklyn, New York
On November 25, 2013, 1:45 am
What I Did in Here: Did a pee dance

Tri-tip and a Duvel, the perfect friday afternoon meal.

Hals is where you go when you've graduated, when you're officially old-school. One of the only landmarks of the old Venice, it has somehow remained untouched by the recent influx of hip richness that has sullied what used to be the sleepy main thoroughfare of Abbott Kinney, lining it with haute couture shops selling crap that nobody could ever find a use for, for thousands of dollars, or beat up old wicker chairs for thousands of dollars. Then there's the new snack bar down the street selling one taco for $16! This is the new AK, but from inside Hals it is barely perceptible. This place is class. The type that you may have scoffed at when in your troubled youth, but that has become more appealing as the trouble and the youth have faded. And class equals nice amenities.

So, for all those fixated sticklers out there, the bathrooms are located down a narrow hall that separates you from the main dining hall, which is nice, since nobody in the midst of eating really wants to make eye contact with you, and you understand. The toilets. as you call them, are pleasantly odorized by scented candles that double as light source. Class in session. No reading materials because well who needs them since the invention of the iphone...which reminds me; Siri send me a reminder to create that TP app when I'm done writing this...what should I call it. Toiletpaperapp maybe? Anyway, clean as an be, soft paper, soaps, and paper towels...Hals has a hostess or two on deck at all times, so you're not gonna be able to hit it and run. If you really have to go, order a beer and say you'll be back in a second. Then, when you get back, sit down and drink it slowly, look around, notice the quiet din, just right, the unassuming way that everyone's relaxing, conversing, watching the game, not noticing you, waiting for someone or sometime to come. It's like a sort of purgatory, but in a good way. Also, a great place to take a sh*t.
rantsid Male, 37 years old.
Venice, California
On November 24, 2013, 5:41 pm
What I Did in Here: pinched the good loaf

Regret

Summary - Run far, far away. I don't care how cheap their Christmas-themes socks are. You will contract Gonorrhea.

Well, well, well. So I picked-up boxing, and by picked it up I mean I payed for it but haven't gone, I digress.

So I need some more gym clothes, you know the ones that you buy that are baggy enough so that no one can tell that you are fat, but tight enough that it seems like you have made progress. (I had out eaten my other ones). So I thought well, I don't if I want to become a Maxxonista, or whatever ploy their marketing team is trying to suffocate me with. Savings. Great.

Or so I thought.

Ok before I get to the nasty excuses for a whole in the ground, I went looking for my fatnotfat clothes and camp upon some shorts and I looked down at that tag and it said "$100" and I said Hell to the naw.

I looked up and down that store so that I could cuss somebody out. How dare you, witcha nasty bathroom, charge me $100 so that I can kinda feel like i'm accomplishing something. They are GYM shorts. Not i'm going to the white house shorts, not I'm surfing in Hawaii and there are paparazzi taking my pictures shorts, these are regular ass shorts.

Ok so I was mad to say the least.

I said let me check out this bathroom. It's located just to the left of the "Sale" table. That's in quotes because i'm sure they will charge you just to look at it.

You go through the shoe "department". (Ok now i'm just putting quotes around things for fun) and then you arrive at a corner with a bunch of socks, thermal socks to be exact.

So I am waiting to use the bathroom. Confused as to why there is only one, but ok ok, I'll shut my mouth and wait.

I then begin to hear sounds of horror. Flush. Flush. Rumble. Flush. Someone coughing. (oh wait I think I started coughing) ok but regardless there was something going wrong in there.

So I finally hear the faucet and then out comes a woman, she was russian and she looked as though she had been through the cold war. she looked at her daughter, who was waiting in line ahead of me. And said something in russian, then "no good, no good."

I was in slight disbelief. So I said to myself "OOOOO, this is gonna be a good one.

I walk in there and the smell kicked me in the face, so I needed a moment to recover.

As my vision came back to me, I looked around and my eyes found the culprit. The toilet was clloooooggggggggeeeeeeedddd. So badly, I mean the picture doesn't even sum it up. It was a had to be there kind of thing.

I literally ran and ran and ran and ran until I reached freedom.

DON'T GO. DON'T GO. DO. NOT. GO. I would give this no stars if I could.
Cowpie09 Male, 26 years old.
New York, New York
On November 24, 2013, 2:31 pm
What I Did in Here: Took a picture of the nastyness that occured.

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