All things fnu-related

If you don’t know, don’t ask.

1. I have some kidney-related illness. It must be terminal – this amount of pain cannot be survived, surely. It feels like someone is using my kidneys as punching bags, my pee is electric highlighter pink and is accompanied by a stinging sensation. It all started while I was sitting on the loo – more about that in point #2 – at the Jolly. Being marginally inebriated, I thought that I must have stretched funnily when I stood up, because there was a bolt of pain in my lower back, on the left side. That pain persisted all through the night, which kept poor Gilb up (when he’s in Jozi over weekends, on extremely rare occasions he’ll spend Sunday night here too and leave on Monday at 4:30am. Being a creature of comfort, it is extremely important to him that he feels he has a good night’s rest. Being a creature who enjoys his company, I aim to ensure he’s as happy as can be when staying over on a Sunday night – my rolling around and constant getting up last night did little convince him to entertain the idea on an on-going basis. But I digress, vastly). Knowing how concerned you all are about my wellbeing, I’ll keep you painstakingly informed of the developments. Hopefully getting a chance to see the doctor tomorrow.

2. At a birthday lunch on Sunday, the topic of conversation turned to the use of public toilets, largely because I admitted to needing an urgent pee at the Zoo Lake the other day, and remarked on how all the loo seats had been stolen. “You didn’t actually use the toilet, did you?” some girls asked, horrified. “Hell yes, when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go. Fortunately I had some old used tissues on me to serve as toilet paper – there was none in the bathroom.” What emerged was one of two possibilities: a) I am far, far too lax about hygiene concerns in public places (as you’ll remember, my chief concern is about being heard doing my business in the toilet) and risk picking up hepatitis or some dreaded venereal disease (ohmygod! I just realised – what if the infection described in point #1 is a result of this callous excretory behaviour?); or b) some girls are just far too ahem, anal, about using public loos. Two of the girls carry a spray from Dischem that you can use to clean the seat – and one of those girls still then hovers over the toilet bowl! Another drives home from work about twice a day to potty in the happy comfort of her own bathroom (admittedly only 10 minutes away from her office). What this kind of behaviour is making evident to me is the reason for the phenomenon of very long queues always found in ladies’ loos in public places – girls are frantically spritzing, wiping and hovering – a small fraction of this time is actually consumed with the business of relieving oneself. And then there’s the saga of not touching the toilet door handle, washing your hands without touching the taps, drying your hands thoroughly, and barging through the bathroom door by kicking with your foot (this handle is also dirty) while hoping no-one is going to be knocked out on the other side. It’s almost a better idea for these lasses not to wash their hands at all after using the loo, methinks (okay, just joking – if there’s one hygiene practice I’m fussy about, it’s that. Wash your hands. Always.)

3. Our new office development, which our company will occupy from the beginning of next month, have abnormally low toilets. I never noticed it at the beginning, but my boss took one look at them the other day, and declared them unfit for grown-up use. Turns out there are SABS standards for the height of a toilet seat from the ground, and ours are 2cm below the minimum accepted height. So for the time being, we’ll be practicing the bathroom limbo. How low can you go?

4. I have decided I hate La Senza underwear. While it looks gorgeous, it’s scratchy and uncomfortable. The little extra crotch piece (this must have a proper name – anyone?) is cut wrong and sewn in at 6 precarious points. The underwear inevitably shuffles its way right up your backside, too – if I’d wanted a g-string, I’d have bought one, thank you very much. Ugh. (random aside: the toilet crew of point #2 inform me that La Senza is a Canadian brand. I thought that Italian designers would have had more design prowess, so I’m relieved that they have been absolved of this fashion crime.)


May all your bathroom endeavours be clean and peaceful, y’all…