Talking on Cell Phone While Using the Restroom?
 

Sitting in Starbucks...saw the guy go into the restroom talking on the phone...saw him walk out, still on the phone, with the toilet still flushing in the background.

.....Really??? :confused:

And then there's this:
Study: 1 in 6 Cell Phones Contaminated With Fecal Matter | Healthland | TIME.com

I see people playing games and texting in our restrooms. However this doesn't even register on the weird scale for restroom behavior around here.

I can't tell you how many times I've been settled in at an airport restroom. Then I hear the phone ring in the next stall and the guy answers it and carries on a conversation. Often business related, with a cacophonous background of flatulance and flushing to add an air of appropriateness to the conversation.

Unbelieveable.

I bet in many cases he's talking with a guy doing exactly the same thing.

Way out of line in my book.

Classic:
"All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning
computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething
cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over
forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the
process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal,
following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch
at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with
subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things
would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to go Christmas shopping. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go.
I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have
numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:

1.Occupied.

2.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

3.Poo on seat.

4.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

5.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of
toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped trousers and
sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful ****ter. I wasn't happy about being
next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds
of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone
conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of
Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. ****ter was blathering to Mrs. ****ter about the ****ty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer
cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand
against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded
with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone
ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall.
The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not
unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency
of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my *** cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became
apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's
continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the
bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a
gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had
ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of
choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear
that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear
that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and
blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in
me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later,
in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to
ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now,
all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he
desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made
themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up...
in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..."
followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at
the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding
down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear
words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I
could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal
announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily
into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a
fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him
running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage.
I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew
that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that
unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl.
Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom
with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a
face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom."

Now there's a shocker...
:p

Why talk on the phone with your pants down? Because if you don't have the thing in your hand, it might fall out of your pocket or holder into the drink. :eek: I'm scared to my wits to use a porta potty at the races. Normally at a job I can leave the phone somewhere outside the thing. I won't go in there with it on my person.

I think you can safely piss with the phone put away. In fact, two hands are usually needed to unzip. I suppose ear buds or a cricket could be used while whizzing. ;):D

Flush away. http://forums.pelicanparts.com/suppo...oilet_claw.gif

On MI nonetheless! ;)

I have played games on the phone, but I don't talk to people on the phone in the restroom. Calls, if they come in will get sent directly to VM.

Gassy, I read that one on Best of Craigslist about eight yrs. ago. And I was just about to write about it, lamenting that I'd never be able to find it again, before you dug it up. Just one of the best ever.

best place to have cell-phone sex...really good due to facetime!

Posting from my phone while in the bathroom right now....

I've talked to my best buddy while taking a dump, I even did it one time while doing the deed with the wife:D

Why? Because he's my bud he always figures it out and I like freaking (and reeking) him out.:cool:
That's what best buds are for:D

No, I wouldn't do it to anyone else........

This is truly inspired writing. :)

_

wireless lav mic-
presenter comes back to the control booth and asks " are these things washable?" holding a drippind transmitter pack wrapped in a papper towel.
yes, we send those back to sure for factory refresh, please set it there and we will get you a dry one-

eh, talking on the phone is weird. walking into the bathroom and seeing a guy standing at the urinal, taking a whiz while eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is worse. ...happened at one of the mx hangars at my old job.