STEPH DEROSA: I SAW WHERE BOYS PEE >>>

Generally there is nothing I want to see less, but I went ahead and did it: I took a peek at the men's restroom in Tacoma's very own Corner Bar (formerly known as Hank's). I expected it to be the typical pee-stained, pubic hair-infested, urine-scented death space men's rooms usually are. Fortunately for me, and all of you viewing the picture, the fine folks at Corner Bar happened to recently repaint the room and clean it up a bit. I was admittedly kind of diggin this bathroom.

I'm not gonna lie, when bartender Red was giving me the grand tour, I got a little excited. I love seeing refurbished old buildings, and hearing what they used to look like. When the words came out of his mouth,You wanna see the men's bathroom?I was a little disgusted. No, actually wait, there's nothing inside me that wants to take a look at the men's holding cell for disease-infested toilet seats. But he insisted, and I was glad he did.

One of my biggest fears (I only have a few, so don't go thinkin I'm some sort of scaredy cat) is accidentally walking into the men's public restroom instead of the women's. I'm secure enough with myself to think that if I did it wouldn't be that big of a deal. But something about this fear that was instilled in me sometime back in my elementary school years still sticks with me to this day. It's like an OCD habit of mine to see the women's sign, walk into the bathroom, and then take frantic and reassuring look around making sure there are women in the room and not men. Sometimes, if I don't immediately see another woman, I run back outside to double check the women's restroom sign.

I get small anxiety attacks when themed restaurants use wacky names on their bathroom doors like Blokes and Sheilas.Yes, I know, it sounds easy enough, but I need to see the universal girl in a skirt picture's on the door as well.

Something needs to restore confidence in me that I'm definitely walking into a room full of humans with the ability to bleed for seven days and not die. Unlike those other wimpy human specimens called men.(I kid, I kid. Men are cool. I'll make up for that dig in a later TT.)

One of the most confusing doors I've ever run into was at a pet store. The signs read:Pointers and Setters. Oh good gravy, how the F am I supposed to not have a mental breakdown on that one?

And I'll go ahead and credit the one store that labeled their doors Innies and Outies.That was clever. High five to you, little tiny boutique I will never go back to.

I think if someone wanted to play the biggest prank in the entire universe on me, it would be to switch signs on a bar or restaurant I frequented. It would be such a Steph DeRosa headgame. The potential for my cerebrum exploding would be good for the betting.

Not that I want to give you any ideas. So go back to your mindless Web surfing and forget I said that. As a matter of fact, why don't you take a look at this.