I was at the urinal taking a piss today when one of the high-powered executives down the hall sprinted in and past me doing that rapid knock-kneed duckwalk some people do. Looked like a race to the finish. I had just mentally bet myself that he was executing The Move -- you know, when you run in and simultaneously hook the stall door with your elbow, loosen your belt, and launch yourself ass first at the toilet? It's a complex ballet that is all the more amazing for the inherent risk that, should any cog in the intricate machine misfire, you'll be shitting up your back -- when suddenly, from the stall, came a sound absolutely identical to the one you hear when you release an overinflated balloon and it flies around the room.
For just a second, I thought in alarm that the man was deflating. Then that thought sank in and I started to laugh. Hard.
I've got to find a brake pedal to slow my reactions down till my brain has had a chance to tell me they're a bad idea. Not that I'd probably stop reacting inappropriately to things, just, you know... I'd be an immature asshole on purpose.