I think I'm fascinated by toilets. Don't judge me quite yet.

I'm a normal person. Or whatever,normal means. I wear clothes, drive a car, have a family, drink beer, play online poker¬" you know, all the normal stuff. But still, bathrooms hold some sort of spell over me. I'm intrigued and repelled, at the same time.

I mean, for starters, I do all my best thinking in the bathroom. Men read, women think. No, wait; women hurry up in the bathroom because they know there's shit to be done elsewhere, no pun intended. But that thinking time, brief as it is, welcomes small flashes of brilliance that are otherwise hidden among all the multitasking crap that women are expected to do.

Meanwhile, men can find toilets to be a place of refuge where they can catch up on topics near to their heart and other organs, even occasionally finding the stalls to be a place to tap dance and find a date, like a certain politician recently. Or like my friend Bandito Betty who tap dances in public stalls for no reason at all. (Let YouTube be your friend.)

And then there's the repellant stuff. Frankly, some bathrooms are just plain disgusting. There are the obvious ones like gas stations, porta-potties, and the one in Brad Allen's college fraternity house. Or how about the bathroom in the Tacoma Mall. Are you one of those who would prefer to relax your bum on a john in Macy's or Nordstrom's, as if those weren't patronized by the same clientele as the regular ones located IN the mall area? Don't feel bad, I'm one of those as well.

But sometimes public bathrooms can be pleasant places. I've polled an intelligent group of coffee drinkers that happens to be sitting next to me as I write this. The majority state the opinion that here in Gritty Tacoma some of the most obviously beautiful bathrooms are (and I use the term beautiful very loosely): Monsoon Room, Black Water Cafe, Rosewood Cafe, Masa, and El Gaucho. Some guy here actually had the nerve to mention a bathroom in Seattle. I promptly told him he couldn't play with us anymore.

Often I find myself feeling right at home. I' ve recently become very fond of the bathroom at One Heart Cafe located on the corner of Sixth Avenue and Fawcett. It reminds me of my dorm room in college. Cut-out collage of magazine pictures, headlines, and favorite words left to inspire you as you drain your bladder and primp your hair. The warm maroon color and gold framed mirror holds memories of shabby chic high school slumber parties. I have no idea why, it just does. If you're going to be drinking lots of coffee, I suppose you should have a welcoming place to go pee every 10 minutes.

So guess what? You just read an entire 500 words on public restrooms. How do you feel about yourself now? Oh yeah, baby, I just suckered you into wasting five minutes of your life that you'll never get back. If you're a slow reader like Bobble Tiki, then make that 10 minutes of your life.

My world is full of random thoughts that might seem unimportant to the typical person. It's also full of random crazy crap that happens to me. My job here is to waste minutes of your life as I babble about these not-so-usual happenings and characteristically weird thoughts in my life. Mostly all of my beloved friends and acquaintances have become addicted against their own will. You will too. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Welcome to my life¬" Steph DeRosa

Being the bathroon whore I am, I'd love to meet your John. Drop me one here.