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everybodypoops

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Member for
3 years 7 months
Gender: 
Female
Age: 
25 years old
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My mother always said if you want to know if a restaurant's good, check their bathroom first. You can tell everything about an establishment from their bathroom. Is it clean? Is it scented? What scent is it? What ply toilet paper is in the holder and which way is it facing? Are their paper towels, hand dryers or--heaven forbid-- a single communal towel next to the sink? These things matter. These things matter because a bathroom isn't just a bathroom; it's a representation of that establishment's morals. Heeding my mother's words of advice, I have abandoned a cafe a time or two for committing unholy lavatory sins. If there isn't soap in your dispenser, then there are poop particles in my sandwich. Simple as that. I am devoted to exposing the sights, sounds and smells of every toilet my tush graces. I do the squatting so that you won't have to.
Post Count: 
9

Hot toddy, gigggly

It's Saturday night on the Lower East Side. This is after using the restroom at Lucky Jacks. By now, I am three hours into this first date when that hot toddy I drank at the restaurant finally kicks in--I gotta go. Luckily, so does he. Already a good sign, wouldn't you say? Nothing says "soul-mates" like synched bladders.

"Know what I love?" I say.
"What?" He says nervously, with this look that says, "Uh-oh, she's going to say me. I knew she was crazy when she said she was reviewing toilets."
"Arcades," I say.
"Oh," he sighs, relieved (or do I detect a hint of disappointment?). "Me too."
"Want to go to one?" I offer.
"Do they have a toilet?" He says.
"Yeah," I say. "Probably."
"Let's see if they have Galaga."

Two Bits did not have Galaga, but they did have a restroom. It was also crowded enough where we're able to slip on line unnoticed. The restroom itself is pretty gross. As I've come to expect with most unisex bathrooms, the toilet seat was up when it was finally my turn to use it. There was soggy toilet paper everywhere, graffiti floor to ceiling-- probably due to the high traffic. But it did have toilet paper, a working sink, paper towels and soap. I peed quickly, still a bit dizzy and giggly from the booze, washed my hands and contemplated challenging my date to a round of tetris.
everybodypoops Female, 25 years old.
New York, New York
On December 19, 2013, 5:33 pm
What I Did in Here: peed, beat the system

tried on glasses, feeling relieved that I don't wear them

Those of you who follow my posts already know, my mother has particular tastes. After spending over three hours watching her try on the same two identical frames, I decided that I needed something, anything, that would be more mentally stimulating than debating the aesthetic appeal of chrome versus silver.

To my surprise, this was no regular eyeglass boutique. Near the bathroom towards the back of the store, are two cages. One houses a large black and white bunny, the other, a light brown hamster. After taking photos of these animals, I decided to check out the loo.

Smack-dab in the center of the room is a giant poster of two models, hair blowing in the imaginary wind, one sporting oversized sunglasses and straight white teeth. This is directly above the toilet, which, all in all, was pretty average. It flushed. There was toilet paper. The sink worked. The mirror was accessible. Soap..yep. I did take note, however, of the access to free contact solution on the sink. This is definitely a plus if you happen to be nearby when your contact pops out.
everybodypoops Female, 25 years old.
Brooklyn, New York
On December 19, 2013, 5:07 pm
What I Did in Here: sight seeing

Organic IPA, feeling good

At 6:30 on a Saturday, Lucky Jacks was pretty vacant. Thankfully.
I was on a first date and the pressure was intense-- the pressure on my bladder, that is. I'm a tiny person, so half a pint of beer is enough to make me feel like I'm about to burst.

The bathroom was easy to locate, a bonus when you're already struggling with a charming way to excuse yourself for the ladies' room. It was, in a many ways, everything you'd expect from a bar restroom on the Lower East Side-- unisex, floor to ceiling graffiti, dim lighting, piles of wadded up paper towels from where drunk patrons missed the pail. However, with the warm buzz of beer softening my inner critic, I was pleased with my overall experience. There was toilet paper. There was soap. The sink worked and there was a mirror for me to fix my makeup in.

Bottom line: I'd use it again.

Pro Tip: The doors on both sides of the bar make it doubly convenient to "head towards the restroom" if the date's going south.

The double doors also work to your advantage if you're just trying to use the restroom--walk in from one entrance, use the facilities in the middle of the bar, and saunter out the back like nothing happened. Although, they do have a great selection of drinks, so I'd consider staying for a beer.
everybodypoops Female, 25 years old.
New York, New York
On December 7, 2013, 3:10 pm
What I Did in Here: Peed, texted, not in that order

Grande skinny vanilla latte, feeling relieved

I once read that people think better on a full bladder. Therefore whenever I'm attempting to bang out ten or twenty pages for an important project, I make sure that I am on the verge of having to pee. This is probably why the best writers enjoy their beverages so much.

While sitting in front of my laptop on a full bladder in the University Plaza Starbucks as I sipped my overpriced, over-saccharine beverage out of a cup with my name misspelled on the side, the urge suddenly became too much. I had to go.

I looked around to see if anyone appeared shady enough to steal my laptop. I decided that no one did, but asked a woman sitting next to me if she would "watch it" anyway. With a clear conscience, I skipped to the loo.

The mirror on the wall outside of the bathroom is one of those big mirrors that makes you say, "hot dang" from virtually all angles. If only the mirror inside the bathroom was as friendly. Nope. That mirror is small and terrible, and the lighting doesn't help. I went from babe to zombie just by walking through a door. But I wasn't in there to stare at myself, no. I was in there to pee.

Toilet paper? Check.
The big roll kind? Check.
Clean toilet? Check.
Handicap bar? Check.

Sink? Soap? Paper towels? Check, check and check. This bathroom gets the job done. Just remember not to take your reflection personally.

As for my laptop, it was still there. The woman I asked to watch it, however, was not.
everybodypoops Female, 25 years old.
Vestal, New York
On November 28, 2013, 10:29 pm
What I Did in Here: peed, wondered if I would get robbed

Large Cappuccino, feeling frothy

I lie to my mother every time I visit the Tea Lounge. It's not that she hates tea, or live Jazz bands, it's that she has a problem with their toilet.

The one and only time I brought my mom to the Tea Lounge, she headed straight for the restroom. She poked her head in, turned on the light, emitted a gagging sound loud enough for other customers to hear, walked over to me, held me by the shoulders and with tears in her eyes said, "It's disgusting, never come back here."

"But Mom, they have so many types of tea,"
"I don't want to hear it."
"But Mom--"
"I raised you better than this."

So when the next week my friend asked me to meet up with her for coffee, I had to slink out of my house and promise that I wasn't going back to that "disgusting hell-hole."

My mother has high standards. It's true that the loo at the Tea Lounge could use some scrubbing. Sure, it smells faintly of urine and off-brand soap and there are paper towels snaked around the floor and the door is so far away from the toilet that you worry about your ability to rush to hold it closed in case you forget to lock it and someone tries to barge in on your number two.
Nevertheless, it's a spacious lavatory with a plentiful amount of patron-provided reading material scribbled on the walls, and even comes equipped with a handicap bar, which I will admit, I've used to level myself down onto the toilet a time or two after a run around Prospect Park. Most of the time, there's toilet paper, although the last time I went I was met with the blank face of an empty TP tube.

Always, BYOTP.
everybodypoops Female, 25 years old.
Brooklyn, New York
On November 27, 2013, 12:23 am
What I Did in Here: peed, lied to my mother

Coffee, bitter

Gorilla's restroom has saved my butt on numerous occasions. After shopping at Beacon's Closet across the street or picking up groceries at the liquor store, I'm in need of a cup of Joe and a place to pee. The two usually go hand in hand, after all.

Making it past the long line of customers dressed in plaid and beanies, past the tables where wannabe writers are tapping away at their keyboards, past the baristas moving around bags of roasted beans, is the restroom.

I'm not going to lie, it smells like inside of a hippie's hat. I suspect this is due to the large amount of traffic and the scent of the patrons themselves, rather than Gorilla's fault.

But it is conveniently located and no one asks me to buy anything first on the rare occasions when I don't really want a cup of coffee. It comes equipped with toilet paper, except on some busy weekend days, when you can be expected to dig inside of your purse for a kleenex.
It's a small water closet but it gets the job done, and you can't beat the location.

They also have soap.
everybodypoops Female, 25 years old.
Brooklyn, New York
On November 19, 2013, 8:40 pm
What I Did in Here: contemplated future, held my nose

Pla Muk Kratiam, Feeling Squidly

The bathrooms in Song are spotless, spacious and in keeping with the rest of the restaurant, dimly-lit--some might call it, "mood lighting." There is an ample stack of paper towels available at your discretion, and toilet paper rolls from the holder like a dream. The mirrors are large and wide, providing a helpful glimpse into what your date is looking at from across the table. Mine happened to be looking at a pair of sparkling brown eyes, and oops, half of a bright red bra. I fixed my shirt, cleaned some mascara from the corner of my eye, then opened the delightfully gliding faucet above the glass sink bowl and positioned my hands underneath the forthcoming stream.

WARNING--There are only two temperatures of sink water in this bathroom. Cold, and GOOD GOD, MY SKIN JUST MELTED OFF MY HANDS.

I was unfortunate enough to be met with the latter. After stifling a scream, emitting a tear or two and blowing on my mangled paws, I fixed my hair and forced a smile.

Lovely latrine, just be wary of the water.
everybodypoops Female, 25 years old.
Squatted At Song @ 295 5th Ave
Brooklyn, New York
On November 18, 2013, 10:58 pm
What I Did in Here: fixed my makeup, third degree burns

Snails in Black Bean Sauce, feeling nostalgic

I always eat way too much when I visit WoHop. After consuming a dozen crabs, half a roasted duck, too many of those succulent little snails to count and washing it down with over ten cups of green tea, I'm ready to pay a visit to the restroom.

Down a set of chipped-tiled stairs and to the right is what I assume to be the bathroom. I push open the creaking, once-white door, paw around for a light switch and listen to the crackle of a fluorescent bulb lighting up.

Everything is wet. There are buckets under the sink. There are dripping noises coming from every corner. There are two stalls, and neither one of the doors close. It smells like fish scales and makes me wonder if this is where the prep work is done for their ginger-scallion flounder.

To be fair, the toilet seats were clean and there were rolls of toilet paper, although they were positioned tongue-under. After making a hefty deposit and switching over the roll of TP to face the right way, I flushed and held my breath for a few panicked moments, hoping that it would all make it down the drain. It did.

There was soap in the dispenser, although it did smell faintly of bleach. There was no hot water. Still, I did my best to wash my hands and that's when I spotted it--the sin of all bathroom sins--the communal hand towel.

I skipped the towel and wiped my hands on my jeans. Just when I thought the experience was over, I turned around and saw a little girl with long black hair wearing a red coat. She was just standing there frowning like something out of a horror movie. I said excuse me, walked upstairs and ate the complimentary orange slices that came with my bill.

Go to WoHop, just watch out for what's in the restroom.
everybodypoops Female, 25 years old.
New York, New York
On November 17, 2013, 2:54 am
What I Did in Here: pooped, met a ghost

A large, dark roast coffee with half-and-half. Feeling jittery.

Naturally, after downing the oversized cup of coffee, I had to pee. Toilet paper, soap, two locks, an automatic paper towel dispenser and multiple mirrors would appear to make this the ideal bathroom experience. The toilet seat was clean. There was soap in the dispenser. The toilet paper's tongue stuck over--not under. The lighting was adequate without being overbearing. There was even reading material in the form of sharpied-on poems detailing existential unrest. So why the three stars? Why not four or, heck, a deserved five stars if this bathroom has all of the necessary amenities?

I'll tell you why, potential patrons. It's because the mirror above the sink is a skinny mirror, and I don't like being tricked. If the mirrors are lying, what else is lying? What's really in that "zesty dipping sauce?" Thought you could pull a fast one on me, huh Cyber West? If that is your real name.

I saw those giant chocolate chip cookies on the way in and thought, could I? Wouldn't that be positively gluttonous of me to have a cookie larger than my head? My hips cannot possibly afford that. Then bam! One look in the mirror and I've been reduced to supermodel-like proportions. I guess chocolate chip DOES sound good. But wait, the trashcan behind me has also appeared to have slimmed down. Nice try, mirror, but I'm saving a couple of bucks and skipping that cookie...maybe.
everybodypoops Female, 25 years old.
Binghamton, New York
On November 17, 2013, 12:12 am
What I Did in Here: peed, contemplated buying a cookie