Dear Whoever You Are,

I’m sick and tired of walking into the restroom needing to vacate some bowels and find evidence of your presence splashed in little gold dots across the toilet seat. There are two urinals. If you can’t use them, at a bare minimum, lift the toilet seat in the stall.

Because, seriously, I’m a pretty low-key guy. Run over me with a car, “Hey, no big.” Punch me in the face, “Let’s be friends!” But when I’m cleaning your piss off a toilet seat, I WANT TO RIP YOUR DICK OFF AND SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT. But that won’t work either, because no doubt your penis is tiny and shriveled, and you’ll swallow it before you choke to death on it.

I guess I could just drown you in the toilet bowl. It’ll be particularly unpleasant for you because you don’t flush either.

God damn I need this weekend.