Say, Can You Pass Me the Tissue?

Soooo....

I'm passing through the break room in the office to heat up my lunch, and to use the Restroom so I can potty during the interim (of course)...

Normally people are in there eating (in the breakroom, not the potty) and even chatting on occasion. You can often hear bits and pieces of conversation although I normally try not to listen unless invited. (that's the truth, I swear!)

Today though, while warming my $4 Boston Market Meatloaf, I was treated to the most odd conversation surrounding Caskets, Dead People's Jewels and Thievery.

Co-worker#1, (hereafter referred to as CW1): "They really do get over on people with Closed Casket Funerals."
CW2: "Why do you say that?"
CW1: "Because you think you're burying your loved one with their jewelry, little do you know, the bastards at the funeral home have stolen it."
CW3: "That's terrible!"
CW1: "Mmm hmm, people just don't think about that stuff."
CW2: "Well, I'm going to make sure if I ever have to bury somebody it's going to be an Open Casket."
CW1: "That's not going to help."
CW2: "Why not? At least that way, I'll be able to make sure Grandma's prized pearls are in there with her. I'll be able to see them when I view the body!"
CW1: "BUT! (finger pointing at the imaginary lightbulb hovering over his head)....they'll have to close the casket lid to transport it from the church to the hearse, and what do you think they'll be doing with Granny's pearls in the hearse, on the way to the cemetary??? SNATCHIN 'em off her NECK!" (he demonstrates on CW3)
CW3: (Gasps and puts her hands up to her neck in shock) "How terrible!"
CW2: "That ain't right!"

...break room is quiet for a few moments while they all try to think of something else to talk about, all you can hear is the hum of my microwave....

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CW1: "You know they switch caskets on 'em too, right? They do it ALL the time." CW2 and CW3 just look at him.....

I thankfully remember at that point that I had to pee, and so I cut on out to the bathroom. I get in the bathroom and I immediately hear talking. I look around. There's no one at the sinks, but there is one stall door closed. Ok. But who the hell is she talking to? OH, you dummy, she's on her cell phone. Believe it or not, out of all the jokes and cartoons that stem from toilet-talking I have NEVER had the occasion to experience it in real life. It's kind of funny actually.

Toilet-talker says:

"I don't know, I told you to check on it, but you didn't so why you're asking ME, I don't even know."

...she groans...I'm hoping against all hope that she's not taking a dump while on her cell phone. How is she gonna wipe her ass AND hold a cell phone? Let me hurry up and pee and get outta here...

"And this is why I don't ask you to do shit. THIS is why!"

...I'm thinking, does she even know someone else came in? No, cause her ass was busy being loud with whoever she's talking to that she didn't even hear the door swing open and closed...

...she groans again..."My stomach already hurts and here you are f*in my s*** up, makin me feel worse. I don't NEED this Jim!"

...C'mon pee-pee, c'mon!!!, I do not want to be here when she drops that load. No. Stinkin. Way...

"You better have it done when I get home. I don't work this hard for you to sit at home on your fat butt all day and not do s***."

...she's quiet, I imagine she's holding her breath, red in the face, straining...

"I've got to go, bye.....WHAT????"

...I hear the toilet paper roll rattling...sounds funny...I finally make water and commence to my own "front to back"...

"S***, S***, S***!!!"

...I cannot seem to wipe fast enough...pull up my granny panties and pants, kick the lid down on the toilet, press on the handle with my foot to flush, and I am SO outta there....I make it to the sink...

"What's WRONG?? Jim, I'm in here, tryin to take a S***, listening to your BLEATING, bumbling ass, and there ain't no toilet paper!!!! Perfect!!!"

...I get my soap, turn the water on, lather hurriedly and start singing the birthday song in my head...tripletime...

"Hello...Hello..., lady out there....can you... ummm....hand me some toilet paper?"

I'm not even going to lie, my first instinct was to keep on going and pretend like I didn't even hear her, but I didn't want her to identify me by my Nike's later on in case she worked in my office. I don't think she does, but just in case...

I dried my hands and went back to the stall I was in, which was on the other end of the row, got one of the extra rolls of TP sitting on top of the holder, and started to walk toward her stall. Wait, what the hell am I doin'?? She's in there taking a shit, I am not about to walk all up in the midst of all that aroma so she can ruin my meatloaf! I ended up stopping 2 stalls down and rolling the TP from that stall into hers. I said loudly, "Look alive, it's comin' to you on the low!"

She says, "What?" (ok, so this is NOT a sista...)

The TP rolls right past her feet and into the stall beside her.

She says, "Oh."

I shrug, roll my eyes and on my way out think, "Heffa, you on your own this time around."