[Hey, You!] Turd Whisperer
Matt Bors

[Hey, You!] Turd Whisperer

You are the guy in the next stall who made me realize life in an office building can be full of surprises. I had just settled in when I heard the door slam and saw your leather shoes beneath the divider.Then your cell phone rang; the ringtone was a soft-rock version of “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.” You let the phone ring forever; when you finally answered, it was in Arabic, which I thought weird, considering the Christmas theme of The Nutcracker. Right in the middle of your phone conversation, you let out a pant-ripper that sounded like it came straight from Santa’s workshop. I laughed so hard I would’ve pissed my pants if they hadn’t already been down around my ankles. In case you thought the guy in the stall next to you was sobbing, I just wanted to let you know that I’m perfectly fine. Thank you.

Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to “Hey, You!” c/o OC Weekly, 2975 Red Hill Ave., Ste. 150, Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or e-mail us at letters@ocweekly.com.



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