the bathrooms were about the same depth as a refridgerator box, toliet sink and hand dryer piled into a space the sixe of half a port of john.
i blieved people opted to piss in the sing, not out of convience but the unatrual footing on the greasy tiled floor that suggested the best manuarbilty would be to keep one foot in the hallway.
i felt a wave of nausea raise over me when i dared to think of pissing in such a place. yet somehow i felt i wouldnt be a horrified to love my pants and have sex in here, if i found the right guy and was really drunk.
it was about morals.
night club sex was to be girtty and fast, far from the usual sensual nature of carnal bliss.
night club sex was to be savage. the music muffled through the hallow spruce of the door stained white as the eminants of someone's coke binge earlier on the floor.
a few bottles of mgd lay discarded on the floor, cigarrette butts rose slowly out of a candle as if it was not a place to quash their filthy habbit but a futile attempt at abstract art in ones drunken state.
i took a few pictures of it on my camera phone and sent it to various artsy freinds with a flowery background and titled the piece "death blooms in wake of macabre bathroom posthypnotic pt 1" i dont know what the hell i was thinking.
it made sense if you were as drunk as i was.
a few condom wrappers lay on the floor crusted and brown like flakes of expired bettle wings crushed into the floor.
yep this place had been cleaned recently, i thought with deep sarcasm.
but look an air freshner!
i called the pungent fragrance glade ghetto rot. yummu yum yum! i was alsmost tempted into a defiante and spiteful act to take the air freshner. the place stank of old sex, sewage, spaghetti-o's, and glow by j.lo so it was best to leave it on its perch next to the sink.
this was either a very hip room to screw in or the last siting of the candyman.
the mirror, if one chose to call it that, was no more than a dingy stamp of jagged glass nailed to a baseboard on the wall.
there was no portal behind this looking glass unless you sought to dive straight into the pulsating depths of hell.
no thank you kind sir.
i tried to figure out if the walls had ever been painted in here, as i stared up at various bands stickers jumping from the walls on expired tape.
i heard someone pull open the door behind me as i stood staring at the celing like a goon. behind me stood an attractive lad presumably in his early 30's. had i been about three beers shy of the case i might have glimpsed him without the fogged beer goggles, but from my prospective, he was still looking fine.
"wanna make out in here?" he asked me.
i felt like i could bathe in the toliet bowl stained with mysteroious brown spots on the seat and have less risk of sars than even attempting to brush up against anything in satan's lavatory.
i cold see the look behind the boys sapphire starbursts of his eyes, he was trying to juggle the two operational states of a male coherance: common sense and horny.
on one hand, he didnt want to get ebola from being naked in this place but on the other hand he was still horny.
and any time that horny was present there was a 6-1 chance it with prevail with a trimphant gloating.
the countdown to begging fro sex in 5-4-3...from some guy that had just walked in on me staring at the walls in the bathroom.
"i know it sucks in here," he said softly as if he was trying to appolgise for the disarray. "But,"
"you dond have enough motor skill ability to walk and have a hard on at the same time?" i asked.
he grinned at me. "i was going to say its ashame to waste this semi private room."
"uh i would rather force feed myself chards of glass than have this conversation." i smiled and brushed past him to the hallway.
i blieved people opted to piss in the sing, not out of convience but the unatrual footing on the greasy tiled floor that suggested the best manuarbilty would be to keep one foot in the hallway.
i felt a wave of nausea raise over me when i dared to think of pissing in such a place. yet somehow i felt i wouldnt be a horrified to love my pants and have sex in here, if i found the right guy and was really drunk.
it was about morals.
night club sex was to be girtty and fast, far from the usual sensual nature of carnal bliss.
night club sex was to be savage. the music muffled through the hallow spruce of the door stained white as the eminants of someone's coke binge earlier on the floor.
a few bottles of mgd lay discarded on the floor, cigarrette butts rose slowly out of a candle as if it was not a place to quash their filthy habbit but a futile attempt at abstract art in ones drunken state.
i took a few pictures of it on my camera phone and sent it to various artsy freinds with a flowery background and titled the piece "death blooms in wake of macabre bathroom posthypnotic pt 1" i dont know what the hell i was thinking.
it made sense if you were as drunk as i was.
a few condom wrappers lay on the floor crusted and brown like flakes of expired bettle wings crushed into the floor.
yep this place had been cleaned recently, i thought with deep sarcasm.
but look an air freshner!
i called the pungent fragrance glade ghetto rot. yummu yum yum! i was alsmost tempted into a defiante and spiteful act to take the air freshner. the place stank of old sex, sewage, spaghetti-o's, and glow by j.lo so it was best to leave it on its perch next to the sink.
this was either a very hip room to screw in or the last siting of the candyman.
the mirror, if one chose to call it that, was no more than a dingy stamp of jagged glass nailed to a baseboard on the wall.
there was no portal behind this looking glass unless you sought to dive straight into the pulsating depths of hell.
no thank you kind sir.
i tried to figure out if the walls had ever been painted in here, as i stared up at various bands stickers jumping from the walls on expired tape.
i heard someone pull open the door behind me as i stood staring at the celing like a goon. behind me stood an attractive lad presumably in his early 30's. had i been about three beers shy of the case i might have glimpsed him without the fogged beer goggles, but from my prospective, he was still looking fine.
"wanna make out in here?" he asked me.
i felt like i could bathe in the toliet bowl stained with mysteroious brown spots on the seat and have less risk of sars than even attempting to brush up against anything in satan's lavatory.
i cold see the look behind the boys sapphire starbursts of his eyes, he was trying to juggle the two operational states of a male coherance: common sense and horny.
on one hand, he didnt want to get ebola from being naked in this place but on the other hand he was still horny.
and any time that horny was present there was a 6-1 chance it with prevail with a trimphant gloating.
the countdown to begging fro sex in 5-4-3...from some guy that had just walked in on me staring at the walls in the bathroom.
"i know it sucks in here," he said softly as if he was trying to appolgise for the disarray. "But,"
"you dond have enough motor skill ability to walk and have a hard on at the same time?" i asked.
he grinned at me. "i was going to say its ashame to waste this semi private room."
"uh i would rather force feed myself chards of glass than have this conversation." i smiled and brushed past him to the hallway.