The same bad design for hundreds of years!?

I'm sorry that I have to do what I'm about to do:

Judge a simple object that 7 billion of us interact with every single day, but because we don't like to talk about it, its obvious design flaws will never change:

The toilet.

Let's face it - an awesome bathroom experience can make a person feel like a million dollars.  I have many friends that can actually hold out, so to speak, for hours until they get to the perfect bathroom. Because it's simply worth it.

Why then, oh why, can we not actually address some simple issues that we all face when confronted with standard toilet design:

ONE:

I don't know about you, but I have a splash issue when it comes to Number 2.  It annoys the crap out of me! (So to speak.) Everywhere I go it's the same story. It grosses me out so badly. Must we really waste extra paper (from living trees! How barbaric in these times!) to fill up the bowl just because the toilet was designed badly?

I once came across this:

Look, it's quite an experience being confronted with your own "products" this up close, but hey: No splashage. Ever. Problem solved.

TWO:

I am a man. And if you ask any man about their "endowment", they'll always add a centimeter or 5.  Research proves this. So it takes a lot of courage to say this, but I'm not particularly outrageously endowed.  I'm a fabulously healthy medium.  Anyway. 

Why, oh why then, in a Number 2 situation, must my "endowment" always touch the front of the toilet bowl!?  It freaks the shit out of me! (So to speak.) Please give me a solution to this. Please, people.  Either I'm doing something wrong.  Or, again:

All toilets are designed wrong.

THREE:

The toilet seat issue. I don't want to get into this, because it's boring.  All I want to say is that any girl out there should actually rather prefer the find the seat up when she arrives at a unisex throne.  Because if the default position of the toilet seat is always up, everyone will probably have to deal far less with the good old badly aimed male Number 1. It's gross. It's barbaric. And I've had it.  

Let's either come up with a new toilet design that addresses such an age-old simple issue.  

Or leave that seat up.

Case closed.

FOUR:

Lastly, this is a little trick someone taught me, more than a judgment over the toilet.  If I may say so, all men in the world have an issue with the obligatory shake after a Number 1:  It leaves room for splashage.  A no-go.  And if you don't shake, well, you'll regret it by the time you're back at your desk. A total no-go.  So what you do is this:  When you're done with your Number 1, you simply hold your aim and you press rather firmly on that bodypart between (to quote the rapper Lil' Wayne - brace yourself) your crane and your drain. (It's so crass, I love it!)

Trust me - it releases almost everything that could ever come back to haunt you after your awesome Number 1.

Try it.

And there you have it.  Never again would I like to talk about this subject, because it makes me uncomfortable.  Just like you.  But let's come up with solutions!

And now, excuse me, as I make my way over to the unisex office bathroom for another instalment of: Game of Thrones - An age-old tale of barbaric power struggles and gore.

Urghhh.

The discovery of the year.

How boring does one's local supermarket get?  And how much more boring is cooking for oneself, since one is a bachelor!? (Single by choice.)

(Not because I'm "undatable".)

(Like that one person once said...)

Anyway:

I live in an older part of town where space is limited and shops are small.  Not like those sprawling upmarket uptown malls built on what was still a quarry or a mine dump a month ago.

That means my local supermarket, too, is tiny and has unbelievably limited stock. I find myself wandering around the aisles going: "In how many different ways can I doll up that pre-cooked chicken?" I'll tell you what: That chicken has often gone from 

- deboned by hand and grilled in my oven (skin facing up so it gets extra crispy and lets all its fat seep thru the dry breasts underneath, Mmmm!), to

- today on a salad (if the leaves haven't wilted yet coz no bachelor can go to the supermarket more than twice a week) to

- tomorrow in a pasta to

- by the end of the week on a dry old sandwich.

(Once, only once, I ventured beyond one week with one chicken.  I can most certainly not recommend it.)

As I was having one of these food-recycling brainstorming sessions by myself between aisle 4 and 3 about 2 months ago, I found myself in the fresh vegetable section.  To discover the find of the year!

Minestrone soup mix is always sitting there, staring me in the face. I'm not much of a soup eater, but then it hit me: Chopped carrots, leeks, onions, beans, celery and spinach make the most awesome salad-in-a-bag!  Ready to eat. Fresh as morning dew (and stays that way much longer than a leafy salad).  Flavourful as the famous soup itself.

Just delicious.  Try it - I've converted my whole family to this trick.

Fresh Minestrone Soup Mix, R24,99 (Or R10 off for 2 if you're lucky)

Woolworths Supermarkets everywhere. 

www.woolworths.co.za

The fanciest gym in Africa!

I can't afford to go the new Alice Lane Virgin Active gym in Sandton, Johannesburg.

But my best friend Stan can. Luckily we look alike. Kinda. I guess:

The thing about going somewhere posh where you're actually not welcome, is to just pretend like you know your way around. Don't act like you own the place - rather be friendly to the staff who work there (they can obviously not afford to be there either as a customer - so you're actually birds of a feather. And birds of a feather tend to help eachother out of sticky situations that might arise...) 

When the lovely receptionist (she probably earns per month what it costs to just be a member at this gym) swipes your access card and your best friend's face pops up on her screen, be sure to divert her attention at that exact moment by saying politely: "You know what, don't give me 2 of those lovely fluffy white towels. One is quite enough." Then you wink. And you're IN.

Now to get familiar with the labyrinths of delight inside this place. It's a minefield of potential mistakes for an imposter like me - Machines you've never seen before, anti-gravity yoga studios, rooftop open-air workout sections, steam rooms (men only) and aqua lounges (unisex). Oh my word, what if I mix up those last 2 and end up starkers in front of that famous female CEO of Standard Bank!?

So I do what any person who actually belongs there does: I make an important business call (or just a call to my brother about a special offer on frozen chicken at a local supermarket, but hey, no-one will know). This way you get to "hover around", you can "spend time" in a random spot, "pace up and down", whatever it takes for you to inconspicuously inspect your surrounds. By the time you know that 3 kilos of the cheap chicken now costs us much as 2 kilos used to, you'll not only know where the men's locker room is, but also how others operate the fancy touch-screen lockers, where to pee and where to take your clothes off.

Step by step you check out how the real people do things. Your mobile phone really is your best friend here. You could "receive an important email" right before you have to start stacking weights onto something that looks like maybe a time machine crossed with a surfboard. Or an important client could "need an answer right now on text" while you try to figure out where the lift to the rooftop is.

Guys, what a lovely experience. I was actually thinking at one point - maybe it really is worth the money - you just want to stay and work out more, sit longer in the olympic sized jacuzzi, sweat out a wider variety of toxins in the sauna and moisturise more bodyparts with the Chardonnay flavoured lotion in the shower.

How do you feel about your sweaty, overrun, run-down gym now?


Me on the roof at sunset:

The pool and aqualounge (unisex guys, please wear something):

Alice Lane Virgin Active

Cnr 5th St & Fredman Drive Entrance, Sandton, 2196, South Africa

Telephone +27 11 783 8410

www.virginactive.co.za/microsites/alice-lane