The other night I got a text from my friend Carolyn requesting that I write a blog post about the public acceptance of toilet texting. I assume that message was texted to me while she was sitting on the toilet, and frankly it makes me wonder if all of my text messages from Carolyn are composed on the john. And I guess the public does accept it, because I'm totally fine with that.
And why wouldn't I be? It's not like it's dirty. If anything, it's more detrimental to the sender than the sendee. The sender is the one with the poop particles (THEY'RE EVERYWHEREEEE) all over her phone now. And last I checked, poop particles couldn't be sent via text. Unless there's an app for that.
I assume toilet texting's sudden jump in popularity owes to the fact that everyone who usually talks on the phone while they're going to the bathroom (admit it), has suddenly decided it's a lot less risky to use their thumbs. It's a new level of privacy. Because you know the whole time you're sitting on that toilet talking to your friend, you're wondering if they can hear what you're doing and then you usually don't flush because that would totally blow your cover and then you walk away and forget about it until your husband yells at you from the next room three hours later because oh my GAH what IS that?
I think my agreement that toilet texting would make for a great blog post is prime evidence of my brain's deterioration this week. I totally blame it on my office's temperature. One day it's as warm as mother's womb and the next I have to sit on my hands to keep them warm. But the majority of the time, it's the type of warm that causes clammy hands and temporary bouts of claustrophobia. The type that lulls my head to the side and makes me stare at my blank Word document for hours on end because what was I just talking about?
ANYWAY. I don't do much toilet texting myself because I don't usually keep my phone on hand while I'm in my apartment. I toss it on the coffee table when I get home from work, and that's where it stays for the majority of the night. So the other night I brought it into the bathroom with me and started texting people.
Sitting on the toilet, thinking of you. xoxo.
Yo, what are you doing? I'm peeing.
Plans this weekend? I'll call you when I'm done in the bathroom.
And I guess I kind of lost track of time and was in there for a long time because after a while B asked me what I was doing in there and I was all, "working on a blog post," and he opened the door and saw me sitting on the toilet and was all, "whatever it is you're thinking, I advise you to just stop" and I was all, "YOU NEVER SUPPORT ME IN MY RESEARCH."
I hope you're happy, Carolyn.