"Men" and "Ladies" is quite sufficient. We don't need to make it all cute-sy. And other things.

So this last Sunday Phil and I went to Holy Hill for Mass after I got off of a 12 hour work shift. It was pretty cool. On the way up we passed a hand-painted sign out in front of a house saying:

"Eleven kids. No Health Insurance. And we do NOT want help from the Government."

Rock on. We hung out up at Holy Hill for an hour before Mass. Got to remember stuff from over a decade ago when I'd walked there on a pilgrimage. Things are much further apart on foot. Strolled the grounds. Checked out the view. Admired the windmills from 25 miles away (location in relation to Holy Hill verified by Phil on googlemaps after the fact cuz he rocks like that). Mass was fantastic. Father Jorge with the awesome beard translated for a visiting priest from Nicaragua. His impressive hand-gestures and accent alone had us sold. The beard sealed the deal. Managed not to doze off, as it commonly our problem on Sunday mornings because we work 3rd shift. I've largely become an afternoon/evening churchgoer as a consequence.

At any rate, on our way home we stopped at the Fox & Hounds Restaurant for Sunday brunch. Had a mojito. Some good food. Good conversation. Excellent company. Coffee afterwards. It was great. But I'd been having some stomach problems (sigh.) the night before and had been up quite a long time at this point and was getting tired. We were about to leave when I felt that horrible gurgling in my tummy that meant I had to get to a bathroom fast. So I make for the restrooms which were conveniently located down a flight of stairs. I get to the bathrooms and there are two doors. One says "Foxes," the other says "Hounds."

Now I realize for a normal person there wouldn't be much question as to which restroom they were intended to use. I just get a little funny-off in my head sometimes. I somehow COMPLETELY forgot that bathrooms are separated according to sex. The panicked internal conversation I had as I did my little dance standing dumbfounded outside these doors went something like this:

"Well that's just great." (vague remembrance of there being some crappy situation like this at outback steakhouse, quickly abandoned by being unable to remember what the heck to word those aussies used for ladies was) Then refocusing, I tried to determine which door was meant for me, knowing choosing the wrong one would go over badly. "Foxes are clever, and so am I. I must be a fox. But I'm pretty respectable, too (glancing longingly at the Hounds door)... sometimes..." But then, "But wait... liberals are clever. Maybe it's a trick. I'm a conservative Hound. darn liberals and their tricky doors." Scoffing. But then, "Hold on... Hounds are brown and foxes are red. Brown's a boy color and red's a girl color. Maybe I've got this all wrong." With that I chose red over brown and rushed in on account of another, much more pressing gurgle. The crazy part is I didn't ACTUALLY fully get it until I was already finished up in my stall... and it dawned on me, "Ohhhh. 'FOXy lady.' Right." The whole thing was rather distressing.

I could just acknowledge personal ridiculousness, but I think the more important issue here is that these places need to stop trying to make bathrooms all cute-sy. It's not cute. And the use of facilities can be a pretty pressing emergency. These are hardly times when one wants to be trying to compare themselves to random animals to figure out which one they're more like. The room men use should be labeled "MEN" and the room women use should be labeled "WOMEN" or "LADIES". Either will do. But none of this fox and hound garbage. There is nothing "foxy" or glamorous about peeing on a seat. Or worse. So give it a rest.

Other than that it was nice place for Sunday brunch, though. They had little old men drinking beer out of small glasses. There's nothing not to like about that...