We live gracelessly.
I don't know who wrote this, but I'm pretty sure I know what she was doing when she wrote it. I should mention that many of the bathroom stalls at my university come equipped with handy little chalkboards, perhaps in an effort to cut down on bathroom graffiti. Instead, people write with indelible pens on the chalkboard. And then others write over it again.
I've long been an admirer of bathroom poetry--you know, the little afterthoughts written on paper dispensers and stall walls all over the world. I often wonder if the people who write these little aphorisms carry pens with them when they go to the bathroom, or if maybe they are struck by sudden inspiration, and their first instinct is to make a beeline for the potty to jot it down.
It's safe and anonymous, and yet intimate.
I've decided to start documenting my favorite moments of bathroom poetry. Some of them are poignant, some of them are sad, some of them have girly curly-cue handwriting, some of them are written in WhiteOut, some etch their emotions in with the precision of a straight edge.
I went hunting today for my absolute favorite moment of bathroom bizareness, but it looks like it might have been washed clean from the chalkboard in the stall. It said: "IF YOU RUB YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FAST, THEY SMELL LIKE PEANUT BUTTER."
But what made it even better was the little note right underneath it, in clearly different handwriting, different color pen even:
"...Wow you're right."
Oh, the wonders of fleeting, spontaneous and seemingly heartfelt bathroom poetry.
