Be kind, don't dookie the toilet seat -an appalling story of the phantom crapper.

I feel the tenacious need to apologize for this blog ahead of time since I know it will offend someone; however, my goal is to simply enlighten certain people about my mindset and thinking and experiences in seminary beyond that of mere theological mumbo-jumbo. So if the title offends you, then please simply choose not to read the blog.
I woke up the night before last to the sound of my loathsome toilet -which happens to sound like a harrier jet lifting off- flushing in the middle of the night. This is not a tremendously scaring incident in my mind, toilets flush, and when you are in a dorm they flush at all hours of the day and night. So, whilst I was awake I felt it prudent to go pee instead of waking up to the sure feeling of having to pee a couple of hours later. So, I got out of my bed and stumbled into my bathroom.
Now, I say I stumbled because I did quite literally stumble because I can hardly walk in the middle of the night due to my still sprained ankle -an injury which has me clogging the drain in my shower and soaking my ankle is boiling hot water early in the mornings so that it loosens up enough to get my shoe on and walk on. Thinking, "It's too dark, and I'm too asleep to actually be sure that I would not pee all over the wall," I sat the toilet set down and peed sitting down (see this to understand the significance of my sitting down: http://youtube.com/watch?v=SDxcyqeRc-4 p.s. he does not reflect my theological state or any other state that I find myself residing in).
So, I went back to sleep, not angry for the flushed toilet nor having peed on the wall, but with a comfortably empty bladder. However, little did I know that my thoughts on "missing the toilet" were a dangerously ironic foreshadowing of things to come.
Early yesterday morning I arrroooooosseeee and milled about my room. I got some clothes on and worked my way to my bathroom -keeping in mind I had not had my token morning hot water soaking of me ankle- and took my token (yes I'm aware I used the word twice, bite me, I like it) morning poo. As I rounded the corner into the bathroom stall I found myself face to face with an atrocity of prodigiously mythological proportions: a turd perched on my toilet seat. No, I recant, a turd that I assume was at one time perched on my toilet seat but was by this time squished if not smeared on the toilet seat.
Now I'm not a terribly laid back person, but I'm not anal about cleanliness either. I don't mind it a couple of times if you don't flush -it happens- however, what I do not want is your hair near me or your bodily secretions in a PLACE THAT I SIT DOWN SO THAT IT CAN TOUCH MY BARE SKIN AND GIVE ME ANY NUMBER OF HORRIFYINGLY DANGEROUS AND STOMACH WRENCHING PATHOGENS. But perhaps something happened that caused such a crime in my bathroom -it was nothing I did, and I was terrified at the idea that I may have SAT IN DOOKIE. So I have compromised a list of excuses that one may have for crapping on a toilet (not to be confused with a list of excuses for not cleaning ones toilet up after crapping on it and not in it):
1. You've lost the ability to distinguish between your butt and a hole in the ground.
2. You have a colostomy bag that ruptured and leaked crap onto the seat.
3. You spontaneously grew a second butt hole on your forehead, as a repercussion of doing steroids and while examining your own poop and you inadvertently allowed your turtle head to get on the toilet.
4. You spontaneously grew a second or third butt hole, still as a repercussion of steroids, that faces forward and to the right so that when you pooped you hit the seat (this one I find highly unlikely because where did the rest of the dookie go? Was it just a fluke?)
5. You're stupid.
6. You have IBS, and potentially a second butt hole.
7. You were never potty trained.
8. You are from some third world country-which I must admit I would not look down upon at all. I've been there, I understand the change.
9. You some how confused the toilet seat with toilet paper.
10. And, well, I don't have a tenth excuse, but what I do wonder is why was it smushed?

So, back to the drama. I walked into my suit mate's room and said, "Bill (his name is not Bill, but we will say it is Bill for privacy's sake), did you take a crap recently?" To which Bill responded, "Yeah about twenty minutes ago. Why, did I not flush?" (Thank you God that I did not SIT IN it late at night.) To which I responded, "Yeah...no, it's all over the toilet seat."
Now Bill is not an intentionally unaware of his surroundings, but he was unaware enough to not realize that he pooped the seat -that's ok, I've done far more rejunkulous things. But what got me is that he stuck his hand down his pants, wiped his butt and and then looked at that hand and responded to me, "Well, it's not me, I'm clean."

......

I have to pause there because that made me throw up in my mouth. A little bit of me died when he did that. So now I end this blog because of time restraints, but I leave you with this.
Be kind, rewind...or crap on the toilet seat.