Hey, you! The latest in a series of dental assistants at the creepy office next door. You have TWO bathrooms in your suite, but every day at 12:45 p.m. you transform the public restroom on our floor into your vomitorium. We don't have the luxury of a restroom in our suite, yet every time I'm able to sneak away for a quick lunchtime tinkle, I have to wait by the door for 10 minutes and listen to you try to mask the sounds of regurgitation with running water. And for god's sake, clean up after yourself. And please, next time, hold the anchovies. The teeny bones on the wallpaper really gross me out. It's bad enough that Mrs. J uses the same bathroom as a dumpsite for her triplets' absolutely toxic diapers—hey, why change them at your Harbor Island home and smell up YOUR OWN house when you can share it with us! After all, we're only 45K employees! We're here to serve YOU! Give us more, we LOVE it!
Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations —changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to “Hey, You!” c/o OC Weekly, P.O. Box 10788, Costa Mesa, CA 92627-0247, or e-mail us at le*****@oc******.com">le*****@oc******.com.
