“It’s a moo point. Like a cow’s opinion, you know, it just doesn’t matter.”

RIP Carl Weathers

At least it looks like he knows where claws should work…on the post and not the couch! 😂

That face when you realize the subway car IS the toilet.

A wild Mitch Hedberg appears! Have my updoot.

And my axe!

My friends, I would like to share a story with you.

August 2023. Afternoon. I am sitting at my desk in my office. The tell tale signs of something brewing begin to make themselves known. After a time, I reluctantly acknowledge that I won’t make it another 3 hours until I get home. I trudge downstairs to the less populated floor, as one does. An empty stall appears. I seat myself on the porcelain throne and an epic battle ensues. 15 minutes later the moment of dead arrives. I reach over to the dispenser and proceed to unroll.

Halfway through the standard multi-stage folding process, necessary to create something suitable for use, I pause. Something is different. This can’t be right…this is…no, that’s impossible. I look closer at the material in my hands. I rub it between thumb and index finger. I stare in disbelief. This is soft, comfortable, 2 ply material! Gods be praised! I proceed to give myself a royal treatment; the cleanest, most wonderful experience! I feel like a king as I wash my hands and return to my desk.

I dare not speak of this to anyone, for fear the mistake will be discovered. Over the next few weeks, I make several returns trips to the same location and am treated to the same royal cleaning. Life is good!

October. I have grown complacent in my comfort over the intervening weeks. One fateful day I make the trip downstairs, now fully expecting to do business in comfort. Post excursion I reach over, my fingers make contact with something akin to sandpaper. My hand freezes and my heart drops. The most wonderful 2 ply material is gone, replaced with the old standard rough, semi transparent tissue that always results in rectal bleeding. I curl over into a sitting fetal position and morn the loss of my comfy companion. Perhaps I shed a single tear, or cry or in pain, the memory is too traumatic to recall clearly now.

Six weeks later. Was it all a dream? Did I imagine the 2 ply material from heaven? I don’t think so, but it has not returned. Maybe, against all hope, it will return in the future. Only time will tell.

TL;DR - my office had 2 ply toilet paper for a few weeks and it was the most amazing thing ever.

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