You’re in a relatively small class, and the professor is yapping about how your defecating habits as a child can totally act as a cipher for your personality traits right now, in living color. Ironically, you drank too much Powerade after you lifted mad weights at the gym, and now you have to go.

Sadly, it is inappropriate in our society to wet or soil ourselves in public, and you would probably attract a little too much attention by wearing a pair of sweaty Depends. So you panic at the disco and try to leave as furtively as possible, but alas, you accidentally step on a bitch’s toe, and she bellows a huge “OWWWWWW” in a voice that could only be associated with a hyena in heat, totally blowing your cover for escape. You quietly apologize and head for the door, to safety.

In the hallway you are free at last, but your bladder is still not nearly relieved. You head to the restroom, and what do you find? A LINE. I think this only tends to occur in the ladies’ facilities, partly due to the fact that we unfortunately can’t just aim our “equipment” (thus no urinals, thus lines).

So, finally, you get to the front of the line and you go in stall three, and what do you find? A little surprise from some jokester who thought it would be humorous to leave her “specimen” swimming about the toilet. This is an act of inconsideration and indecency, and is also a big helper in having a line in the first place.

Finally, a stall is free … stall one, yes! (I have read somewhere that stall one is the most infrequently used stall, and therefore, in theory, the cleanest) and you get to sing to the heavens as you release in peace. But then, it won’t flush. Yes, it is just pee, but you don’t want to be the girl who left her pee when you know there is a line! So you come out and announce that yours doesn’t flush, and add additional numbers to the line since there are now two stalls down.

Then, when you go to the sink to wash your hands, you notice in the mirror that the girl who was in front of you just committed a bathroom taboo! She did not wash her hands and is prancing out with all her “urine fingers” touching the rusty door handle in exit. And to think, all of these problems could have been avoided if you didn’t over-indulge in Powerade, people didn’t bellow, people didn’t clog the toilets with their masterpieces and leave it for all to see and if Urine Fingers wasn’t raised by hyenas.

Nicole Zimmerman is a sophomore psychology major.

She hopes you know that a lot of shit goes on in the bathroom, man (and yes, that was a pun).