Automatic Toilets can kiss my ass.

Toilets are great. Really. Nothing better than taking a much-needed pee or poop and having something take it away never to be seen again.

One of the better inventions of the 16th century. Imagine a world just filled with Port-a-potties? Man, that would stink. Literally and figuratively.

But those toilets that flush automatically? They can go fuck themselves.

Who the fuck said to himself/herself, "I am too lazy to flush my own toilet when I'm done taking a crap. Ergo, I will invent a robotic toilet that senses when my crap is in there, waiting to be whisked away into oblivion! Eureka!"

My ass does NOT need a bath every time I pee. My ass is pretty clean, really. You know--for an ass. I shower twice a day. And each time I shower, I am sure to wash my ass.

Now, fortunately, I generally do not crap in public bathrooms. I just don't like it. It's unhealthy, but 'd rather hold it. Whatever. They're my bowel movements and I'll do with them what I want to.

But even if I DO have to poop, if I go into a restroom and find an automatic potty, I will do everything humanly possible to keep it in there until I can find a normal toilet. Because there's nothing scarier than sitting on the throne, going number two, and having it flush without your authorization--getting poop water all over your bum.

That's the thing--they flush without warning. There's no beep that would at least warn you a few seconds in advance to stand up for a minute while your bodily fluids go down. You can just be sitting there, doing your thing, and WHISH!

What. The. Fuck.

And ya know, it would be a little different if I was the only one who used that potty. But let's be real--how many poop germs are in that thing? MILLIONS. BILLIONS perhaps. Disgusting. Your own shit doesn't affect you as much as other peoples' so it if was your own designated shitter, it wouldn't be the end of the world. But--ew.

Now, I realize this is one of my more icky postings, but I don't care--these toilets NEED to stop being produced. They are a hazard to the American public. I mean, we ALL go to the bathroom, so this affects each and every one of us. Boycott any bathrooms with automatic toilets.

And if you must shit, just go on the floor of the bathroom and leave a note as to why you're doing it. I guarantee you--things will change.

Hey--same principle as the Boston Tea Party! Well, kinda...

Mullet central.

I'm in Alabama right now. Montgomery, to be exact.

And I'm sorry to the people of this state for what I'm about to say.

But this place sucks. And it sucks bad.

I arrived here yesterday afternoon. And since then, I have seen more mullets than I have ever seen in my life. Like, I'm starting to think it's a joke or something. I'm waiting for Peter Funt to come out of some corner of this godforsaken state and scream, "You're on Candid-Camera!"

No, really. They are everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I go to Ruby Tuesday-mullet. I go to the gas station-mullet. I go to Wal-Mart-mullet fuckin' central. It's not a myth. It's not a stereotype. It's real.

I'll try to get some photos on the sly.

Speakin' of Ruby Tuesday and Wal-Mart: I went to get some dinner last night and wanted a tall, cold, Sam Adams after my long flight. I sit down at the bar and ask if they have it on tap. "Oh, we have nuthin' on tap, sweetheart. It's Sunday."

So, like a true Northerner, I ask, "What does Sunday have to do with anything?"

"We don't serve alcohol on Sunday. You're in the Bible belt, honey!"

Well, I'm from Boston and I'm a fuckin' Catholic and I want my alcohol--Sunday or Tuesday or Friday.

But I'm screwed and must order a strawberry lemonade. Fuck.

I go to Wal-Mart because I realized I had only packed one bra (maybe I got sidetracked?) and had to pick up some other stuff. I notice some cheap wine on the shelves and a full fridge of beer. "Well, maybe they sell booze in the 24 Hour Wal-Mart on Sundays."

No, you 'tard. They don't sell it anywhere. Wishful thinkin', fucktard. And no--you can't get away with it in the self-checkout. The clerk monitoring those isn't as dumb as she looks.

Fuck. So, after flippin' through the television channels and finding every other one is some minister preaching about how I'm going to hell for one thing or another (because I so didn't know that already), I took a couple of sleeping pills and went to bed at 10.

So, I went searchin' around tonight and found a shopping mall. I go into the mall and notice some familiar stores. I walk into Express, find some cute shit and try it on. In the dressing room next to me I hear, "Jeenifer? JEENIFER? Are you thar? Oh, hay. How does this shirrrt look on me? Does it mahke my boobs look too big? Whadaya theenk?"

I think your Baptist minister Daddy ain't gonna like no shirt that makes your boobs look too big. Just my opinion, though.

So, at this point, I'm starting to think I walked into the filming of Forrest Gump II. Can I go shrimpin', too?

The accents here are HORRIBLE. Now, I'm from the Boston area. I understand about shitty accents. I have one. It's bad. I've worked to get rid of most of it but it hasn't exactly been fully successful. However, as uneducated as it makes me sound, I like to think it doesn't hurt one's ears to hear it. These accents are like nails on a chalkboard. Now, don't get me wrong--the people are all super friendly. Very sweet and hospitable. I give credit where credit is due. When and if they get to Boston, they'll probably be shocked to find out what assholes we are, how the middle finger is a staple of every driving expedition and how we mock people who mispronounce the cities of Haverhill and Peabody (pronounced "Hay-vrull" and "Pee-buddy", respectively--for you foreigners).

But yeah, I've been here for about 36 hours, and I am so mentally done. DONE. This place sucks. I'm ready to go home to Boston. Even if it IS freezing there and still 80 degrees here (at night).

I want to go to Fenway (or to one of the surrounding bars (pronounced "Bahs" where I'm from) on opening day--but instead, I'm stuck here in Shitville, USA in a hotel that may very well have cockroaches but I'm not sure because I've heard they scatter when the lights go on. It wouldn't surprise me; it's hardly the Ritz Carlton. And this was recommended to me by the locals, so...yeah. Interesting.

I go home Friday, but not until I get one of these sweet local hairdos.