So two seconds ago I took a break here at the mall food court to use the mall food court bathroom, where men go to relieve themselves after enjoying a almost-certainly-unhealthy mall food court meal.
I approached the urinal.
I prepared the piss.
I looked down.
And there was a puddle.
A big.
Big.
Big.
Puddle.
I actually think this situation—eternal, ubiquitous—perfectly explains why we’ll never accomplish much when it comes to solving the climate crisis and saving our planet. See, we men actually don’t need to piss on the floor. We can simply stand close enough to the urinal to make sure the urine is properly deposited in the correct area. But that would take a bit of non-laziness; of stepping in; of putting down our mobile telecommunication devices; of focusing on the singular task of modily liquid eradication.
But … noooooo. We won’t do that. And then one guy pees on the floor, causing me to stand a bit back, then they guy after me to stand a bit more back. And, before long, the polar ice caps are melting, the tides are rising and the dude working at Smash Burger is having to stand 15 feet away from the urinal.
We all deserve to suffer.
