Yo. As if I didn't have enough issues around public toilets (I hate the thought of a line of people waiting for me to pinch out a loaf, especially because that activity has the Zen quality of 'when you rush it, ti takes longer.' Now there's this to worry about. Angels and Saints preserve us!

Actually (and the faint of heart might want to scroll down here), one of my first jobs was working in a facility for the severely developmentally disabled. Altoghether, it was a wonderful experience meeting and forming relationships with the residents there. But there was one woman who had the unfortunate habit of reaching inside her butt and pulling out her---what would it be, her cloaca?--basically, the part of the large intestine that is just at the other side of the sphincter. It was an interesting reddish-purple, and slick and shiny. The first time you saw it, you usually screamed like Janet Leigh in 'Psycho,' but in a weird way, you got used to it pretty quickly, and you'd just need to alert the nurse who would put on a glove, lube up with KY, and... uh.. stick it back in.

It's sort of interesting what folks won't get up to who are for whatever reason outside of the usual conditioned responses of disgust and aversion. I like my plumbing to stay behind the walls myself. Although I certainly don't mind it being snaked out now and then.

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