Houston we have a problem

Has your behind ever literally been stuck on a toilet? No? Neither has mine. That was until today. I am left with bruises and a scratch. How did it happen? My booty wasn’t too big for the seat nor did somebody play a prank and glued my buttocks to the toilet seat. They might as well have though. My embarrassment is only marginally smaller.

Some big mean construction worker used the toilet seat as a ladder and cracked it in the process. The crack was barely visible and I didn’t think much of it. When I went about my business everything was as it should be. I was quietly whistling. I used to whistle loudly when I believed to be alone in the stalls. I don’t do that anymore ever since I heard somebody whistle in the men’s room, which is next door. His whistling stopped abruptly when I thought I’d hum along to the catchy tune *lol* but I digress.

Anyhoo. When I reached forward for some toilet paper I shifted my weight and when I leaned back well let’s just say some of my lovely behind’s skin got caught in the invisible crack in the toilet seat. Ouch. Two very loud screams and a nasty curse later I had freed my buttcheek from the seat of torture and got the heck out of there. My colleagues laughed their behinds off upon hearing my account and some of the lovely ladies said they had managed to get their butts caught in that crack as well. Nobody did however manage to call Facility management and ask them to replace the seat of doom. Well we did now but it’s a bit too late. The damage is done and I am the butt of the joke. Pun intended and all.