Tuesday, 4 January 2011

This will chronicle a recent adventure to the toilet-room.

I don't know what to call the toilet-room. My toilet (IT'S MINE but not really) is in a different room to the bathroom (which also functions as the shower-room, the sinkroom, the toiletries-cupboardroom, the towels-that-are-in-use-room, the towelrackroom, and the SHUT THE HELL UP NOW AND GET ON WITH IT WE WANT TO HEAR WHAT HAPPENED IN THE TOILET-ROOM BUT NOT REALLY room).

Shall we just call it bathroom 2.0? It seems to be a successful marketing strategy.

So a recent addition to our my b2.0 is the calendar on the back of the door. To the uninitiated, we always have a calendar on the back of our door. A different one each year. Just in case you don't know what calendars are/do/yeah.
As it's early this year, and the first time I've been to my dad's house this year, it was my first Calendar Viewing.


We got a frakking Where's Wally (lolllll) calendar.
I literally just stood in b2.0 for like ten minutes trying to find the stuff, because not only does it have Wally, but it has the checklist of other things to FIND. Like a boy with a dog biting his bum.
How the hell do you ever expect me to pee when there's a Where's Wally to complete?!

I think that's all I had to say.
There was also a grey woman in the picture. I can see their attempts to include a variety of ethnicities, but I think grey, alien women is possibly a bit to inclusive.

No wonder Wally is hiding.

Also, nerdfighters.
Where's Wally? In Your Pants.

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