Dewey’s Pizza: Ellisville. The pies are hot and delicious and the atmosphere is casual yet hip. But Who CARES about that?!? Let’s talk Potty, people…it’s been awhile.
Gleaming, lustrous stainless steel as far as the eye can see! Upon entering, I was curious as to whether the actual pot was going to be just as sleekly silver (it was not). Okay, Okay, fine. The floor wasn’t metal, but it was pretty damn shiny, which only added to the impression of cold, hard cleanliness.
I don’t have many complaints about this restroom. It was indeed clean, freshly so (as we were THOSE kind of patrons. Y’know, the 5 minutes before closing time kind). I have one small, personal pet peeve: the soap dispenser was over —>there, and the sink was over<—here. This leads to the dribble-effect. While using the sink – a satin shiny bowl-of-wonder – one must reach over to the soap dispenser. This brings a smattering of water across the counter. Then, when you use the soap dispenser, a fine dribble of slimy hand cleanser trails its way back to the sink, through the aforementioned water. This creates a goo line. That’s the best way that I can describe it. Goo. Line.
But, again, this in no way detracts from the luster and gleam that I beheld upon entering the loo at Dewey’s. The trash bin was easily-located. There was plenty of one-ply paper at hand. The stalls were spacious, the walls unmarred with graffiti or scratches. The atmosphere was not warm, nor was it meant to be. The space was serviceable and clean, and for that it deserves a medal of recognition. And you better believe…it’s a SILVER one.
There is no room in this restroom! Everywhere I stood, I could find no good photograph, so i took a picture of the picture on the wall. I found it amusing. And it’s better than a picture of half a toilet, because that’s all I could get in the frame.
Where is this tiny loo? Angel & the Bad Man Tattoo Parlor in Washington MO (about 45 minutes from St. Louis).
The Parlor itself is quite charming, with it’s Old West themes and spacious tattoo stations. The bathroom, however, is nothing to mention at all, really (though I must, because it’s my job). Everything is clean and handy, and just a wee bit bigger than an airplane bathroom. I like hooks upon which to hang my purse, but there are none to be found here. It’s not a Bad Bath for the Bad Man…but it’s far from Angelic.
If you’ve gotta hit the loo, I won’t tell you not to. But be prepared to rub elbows with the walls.
OK. This Bathroom has the softest toilet tissue that has ever touched my nether regions. Ever. Whatever it is, it kicks the shit out of Charmin.
Where is this divine tissue?
Avenues Counseling in Richmond Heights. I’m pretty sure you have to be a client to use their loo, but I know that scores of readers will want to pat their bum with some of this luxurious paper.
Other than the tp, the restroom is pretty standard. Clean, with natural lighting from the window during the day, the restroom has that old-house charm (the counseling offices are in…an old house). It’s not incredibly spacious, but there is toilet paper (aahh) on both the window ledge and the spindle next to the toilet. Febreeze spray is handy, should one encounter a 2. There is both soap and sanitizer available on the standard sink. I was a bit disappointed that the faucet was not “old” to match the feel of the house, but that’s just me being picky. Paper towels are available to the right of the sink, single pull at a time (no waving about for motion sensors), and the trashcan is directly located under the towel dispenser. This keeps you from dripping a spotty line of water across the tile floor.
All in all, *mwah*, high quality in an unexpected place. Who would expect their therapist’s little bathroom to have the clouds of an angel on a roll in their loo? Not I, but if the therapy is soothing, shouldn’t the toilet tissue be so, too?
I’ll definitely be making a post-session stop on Therapy Day, if for nothing else than to rub my cheek on the toilet tissue.
I drink a lot of water, especially at work. Ya gotta stay hydrated, y’know. More Water = Happy Lily = Happy Customers. But you know what all that water leads to: several trips to the loo.
Featured today is a snapshot of my work restroom (location undisclosed) (I’d rather keep my job, k’thanks). It is…well…I mean, it has soap. That’s a plus. There’s tons of cleaning supplies and paper product reinforcements. The sign above the trashcan states something about there being no Bathroom Faeries to come and clean up after dropped tissue/towels/tp. This is evident. The trashcan isn’t a large one, sure. It’s small. And the Faeries have not come to clean up. The Fae also do not put paper towels or toilet paper onto their appropriate holder when the product runs out. That’s the job of whomever it annoys the most.
Needless to say, I do not feel warm (literally. the freezing outdoor temps press against that outer wall like Ally Sheedy pressing on that Captain Crunch sammich in ‘The Breakfast Club’), or welcome. So as not to make the restroom feel too badly about itself, I did not photograph the stenchous mops and buckets directly across from the pot. They’re really something to look at while shivering on the toilet, reaching for the loose tp, and keeping your iPhone from slipping illicitly from your back pocket. (No Phones on the Sales Floor, People!)
I can’t NOT drink water. Drinking water comes as naturally to me as my free use of parentheses (what?) So I do have to. Frequently. But you can bet I’m out of that grimy ice box faster than you can say “Bathroom Faerie.”