The Saddest Pea Ever or The Daily Grind Just Got Rougher

This morning when I dragged myself off my chair, down the hall and into the men's room I had a rude awakening.

What the fuck is that blue thing in my urinal?

Where's Pinky Pisscadero?

You remember the pinkies, my favorite type of urinal cake.  I obsessed over them back in the spring of 1993.

I Invent a New Game at Work - wherein I describe a new game I invented involving urinal cakes.
I Invent a New Game at Work Day 2 - wherein I describe the incredibly drab interior design at work and pretend to pee on my boss.
I Invent a New Game at Work Day 3 - wherein I reveal that I'm actually pretending to pee on despicable hedge fund manager Michael Weinberg and bitch endlessly about my boss.
I Invent a New Game at Work Day 4 - wherein I go on an on about pink urinal cakes.
I Invent a New Game at Work Day 5 Game Over! - wherein I describe my efforts to bring the game to the masses by starting a league for young urban professionals.

This new blue piece of plastic just lies there and gets wet much like a young Kim Kardashian in that video I've never seen.

When I complained to the building guy, he was like "It's a urinal screen.  It's the latest industrial design to keep a urinal free flowing and odor free."   He went on to say that the unique web design and channeled texture prevents splash back and that the bubblegum scent is guaranteed to last 30 days.

I didn't smell any bubblegum the last time I pissed.  I'm not sure how close you have to get to smell any odor other than the earthy scent of man urine.

The pink urinal cakes used to smell strongly of cheap soap and hard candy -- just like my grandma.

Unique web design prevents splash back.

So now I'm expected to spend 45 seconds doing nothing but peeing when I pee.  No stimulation whatsoever unless I rub one out.

Before my next visit to the men's room, I'm going to go outside, hang with the smokers and sneak a cigarette butt.  Then I'm going to throw it in the urinal and have an old fashioned cigarette hosing party. 

Disclaimer:

For the record, that's a picture of my coffee mug, and I do love my boss (wink). So, while it is true that I hate my job with a passion worthy of Mel Gibson, and it is true that my job is mind-numbingly boring, unfathomably useless and demeaning in ways that only a piss bucket boy from the 1700's would understand, it does pay the bills and I love my boss (wink).

My boss and everyone else in charge work very hard -- to make the rest of us feel small, insignificant, and miserable. But as my dad used to say, "Work is work. If it didn't suck worse than Karl Rove with a mouth full of broken glass, it wouldn't be work."

You saw the wink, right?