It’s an Amon Tobin and P-Love track title, but it’s so spammy I love it.

I’m now convinced there’s no such thing as postmodernism — there’s just the transfer of ideas between cultures and the inevitable mutations that come from it. Lead by things like cheese flavoured shortbread, kiddy stationery sets called ‘Happy Virus’, funeral marches lead by a woman in a bright yellow marching band costume complete with twirling baton, and a guy with a sliced accent saying in all earnest seriousness, “Hmm, something strangey”.

The follow portion is dedicated to Sydney’s own ESL Sisters. I don’t know If I said, but it’s weird being somewhere without water conservation consciousness. The toilet bowls are shallowish and wide. Nary a ploppy bombing sound’d be heard here. I had to check and recheck the information I was receiving, when told that folks here don’t use deodourant.
But then I found out why it’s not a problem. Not all, but a lot of people have this habit of :: scenario :: You’ve just wiped your arse and have the paper still in hand. You’re vaguely swiveled back around looking into the bowl, then your eyes flick to a basket beside it … and you think, “hey what the heck! I don’t need to flush this bit of paper, I’ll just stick it in that bin.”
:: and pretty soon the not-so faint odour of shit is permeating not through the cubicle, not through the whole public toilet, but right down the whole motherfucking corridor.
The toilet paper is of a desperately poor standard too. It’s like sticking a piece of super-absorbant toweling up your crack.
There’s a tendency for doors of public toilets (men’s is the only variety I’ve experience with) to be wide open — which ain’t a good thing for a guy like me who gets urinal stagefright with even the thought of there being one other person in the place. I just get distracted.
The public toilets have a little plaque at the door with the name and photo of the cleaner responsible for the joint.

The can we have here at Love Hotel has so many controls on it, it looks like it should be on the space shuttle. I don’t know what they do – maybe warm the seat — which I find counter-intuitive — I’ll take a naturally cool/cold/room temp seat than a warmed artificially or by another’s cheeks anyday.

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