Sunday, December 01, 2013
Not to Be Indelicate, But...
I am absolutely about to be indelicate. Take the children into the other room and put on a nice Hallmark Hall of Fame Movie. Wash your hands a couple of times. Maybe have a body shower; why not?
There appears to be a phantom pooper among the castmates for my amateur theatrical. We received a nasty email from the building management telling us that someone had pooped ON THE FLOOR in the second floor bathroom and failed to either clean it up or report it. Honestly, I had discerned a horrible smell in there, but frankly found that to be not that remarkable, and obviously never dreamed that something of this type had happened.
Anyway, the question remains: who? Also: why? And then: in God's name, why?
I'm tempted to do a little detective work on this, but am terrified by what I might uncover. What if it's a fetish thing? What if there's a cult of floor poopers out there? What if it's like the end of Fight Club and it turns out the floor pooper is just an alternate personality I invented for myself? What if I actually have to deal with poop?
Measures must be taken to ensure this never occurs again. I'm suggesting a starvation diet for the entire cast until our run has ended. That way we'd all have sick abs, too.
I am absolutely about to be indelicate. Take the children into the other room and put on a nice Hallmark Hall of Fame Movie. Wash your hands a couple of times. Maybe have a body shower; why not?
There appears to be a phantom pooper among the castmates for my amateur theatrical. We received a nasty email from the building management telling us that someone had pooped ON THE FLOOR in the second floor bathroom and failed to either clean it up or report it. Honestly, I had discerned a horrible smell in there, but frankly found that to be not that remarkable, and obviously never dreamed that something of this type had happened.
Anyway, the question remains: who? Also: why? And then: in God's name, why?
I'm tempted to do a little detective work on this, but am terrified by what I might uncover. What if it's a fetish thing? What if there's a cult of floor poopers out there? What if it's like the end of Fight Club and it turns out the floor pooper is just an alternate personality I invented for myself? What if I actually have to deal with poop?
Measures must be taken to ensure this never occurs again. I'm suggesting a starvation diet for the entire cast until our run has ended. That way we'd all have sick abs, too.
