Out of Kilter – by Ken Carpenter

Confessions of a Bathroom Reader

August 2, 2003

I can’t remember how old I was when I started taking my passion for reading behind the locked door of the family bathroom. Probably as soon as I learned to read, for it seemed like a waste of time to sit there doing nothing.

My first and, shockingly, my favorite bathroom reading material was the fine print on the back of a Bag Balm can. I had never imagined that chapped udders could be so interesting. Believe me, if my bosoms ever become enflamed, I will know exactly what to do about it.

I became acquainted with the ingredients and marketing ploys of every aerosol product we owned. There was no printed word on the shelf that was safe from my prying eyes. Yes, I became an addict, before I even knew the meaning of the word. When I was growing up our home never had more than one bathroom, which meant that my toilet reading habits did not add to my popularity within the family unit.

If my siblings saw me headed in that direction they would scramble to beat me to the door, even if they didn’t feel the urge to do anything. As the years passed by my addiction grew stronger, and nothing grieved me more than having to use a public bathroom that suffered from a shortage of legible graffiti. It may not be high art, but it has its place in society.

The most thought-provoking line I ever read on a stall wall said, “Coincidence is the master of men.” I have found it to be true ever since. When I left home and moved into a college dormitory, I started to realize that I was not the only one suffering from this strange affliction. I spied more than one guy smuggling reading material stuffed down their pants into the stalls, as they were spying me doing the same.

One student, a confirmed believer in all things audacious, would march to the can singing and pounding a magazine against his leg. More often than not he would read his favorite passages aloud as he carried on his business. He brought us all out of the closet, and in no time the days of sneaking around with a book stuck down your pants were in the past.

Ken Carpenter
Ken Carpenter

It ceased to be a shameful thing and became the sign of a rebel, albeit a rebel without a cause. There are different tastes in all things, and it is no different behind the bathroom door. Personally, I prefer sports, trivia and movie reviews, but I have heard of others who will only sink their teeth into front-page political bunk. I find this taste to be pretty far on the disgusting side.

Then again, politicians and the bowels of a toilet do have a lot in common. Sadly, over 75% of Americans now use mobile phones instead of books to occupy their minds while their rumps perform their duty. Amusingly, mobile phones have about 18 times more bacteria than toilet handles. Happily, about 7 million mobile phones are dropped in toilets every year.

Call that “just desserts”. Of injuries in the bathroom 85% are due to people falling into the toilet when the seat is left up. Nearly 40,000 Americans are injured in toilet accidents every year. Toilets must have been even deadlier back in 1760, for King George II died falling off of one.

433 million miles of toilet paper are used in America every year! That is enough to go to the sun and back. Kind of makes my rear end burn to think of it.Of that amount, 40% is folded and 60% crumpled. I am a linear folder and don’t understand the crumple thing at all.

You might say that I’m anal about it. Most people like their toilet paper to hang over the roll and not under it. In fact, 1 in 5 get irritated if it isn’t hung to their preference. After many years of research, I have discovered that most women like theirs to hang under it. Not that it irritates me, but as a top hanger I often change it to hang the way I want it to.

Gee, there goes that anal thing again. Supposedly, though hard to believe, 70% of house guests snoop through medicine cabinets and drawers in their host’s bathroom. A few paint ball bombs would be a nice surprise for them. Of course, I’d forget about it and get the blast myself.

Poop particles, more properly called germs, from a flushing toilet can move up to 6 feet away. It may be a good idea to practice your sprinting skills in the future when you hit the handle. Unless you have the sense to put the lid down. There is now a Bathroom Reader’s Institute, which pumps out paperback books filled with tasty anecdotes for the discerning fan of such fare.

I don’t know where all the info comes from or how much of it is true, but it is quite entertaining. Regardless, I never imagined as I guiltily perused the back of a Bag Balm can that someday such things would be fit for public consumption. Rest assured though, I will always be prepared for any attack of those pesky chapped mammaries.