Uh, Thanks for the Show, Bro?

I work in a great office. Not long after starting at CFED, we moved from shite office space over at Union Station to more professional digs at Metro Center. Hell, I even got an office (with a door) out of the deal.

While we have our own floor, we sublet it out to two other nonprofits, which is great since they share a similar mission. But today things went a tad kooky when I made a pitstop to use the bathroom. Upon opening the door, here was one of the guys from another organization standing there kickin it in his light blue BVDs.

Well, hello there Naked McNakedson.

Holy crap. I didn't need that at 2:30 in the afternoon. Shit, I didn't need that at anytime of day, let alone in an office setting. The fellas on our floor have it better than normal, because it's a woman-dominated office space so we have unaccustomed privacy that is in stark contrast to sports stadium atmosphere we're normally used to on a daily basis. As I quickly blew past him, I noticed he was changing clothes. Not from jeans to a tux for some event or vice versa which I could understand, but he was just changing from one normal everyday outfit to another. So I was already stumped.

Frankly, we have a rather large men's bathroom. Toward the back, if the guy had any sense, is enough space to damn near field a 3-on-3 basketball game. It's larger than my damn apartment. OK, not really. But instead McNakenson decides to park his bulbous, banana-hammock body in front of the door where anyone (including those entering and exiting the women's restroom RIGHT NEXT DOOR) can see. If this was his plan all along, he's more desperate for attention than a Lohan at a cocaine plant.

I was now clearly in a rush to not be anywhere near this scene in the event someone cranked open the door and some co-worker saw me in the bathroom with a nearly ass-out dufus. So I made my way to the sink, which he instantly blocked. He then made a move to block the paper towels to dry my hands, but luckily the clothed were swifter than the naked, and I got there first. As I left, he then began an intricate dance with tucking his shirt which I can only describe as something closely resembling this. Dude, just tuck and go, man. Just a word, fellas: I don't need this shit at the office. Or anywhere. Thanks.