Have you taken a close look at the writing on the wall of your favorite watering hole lately? No, seriously, think about this for a second. You’re only in there for a few minutes, doing, you know, whatever it is you do in the bathroom at the bar (pee, blow, whatever), and all around you are some of the most ridiculous inscriptions you will ever encounter.

I went back home to North Carolina recently, and I was out grabbing a beer with some friends, when one of them brought up a joke from the bathroom wall. (As a side note, this place wasn’t even supposed to be serving alcohol. They’d just lost their liquor license, and they were giving away the beer for “tips.” That should give you an indication of the caliber of this place.) The joke goes, “No means yes, but yes means anal.” Here’s where I am required to say, as a peer-labeled feminist, that this is horrible, awful, disgusting…but when I heard it, I laughed my ass off. And then I cringed, again.

Bathroom walls are also the place for some of my favorite ongoing dialogues. Let me give you an example:

Girl 1 (in purple Sharpie^®): Max is sooooo hottt!

Girl 2 (in black Sharpie, next to Girl 1’s post): And good in bed!!!!!

Girl 1 (in purple Sharpie): How do U know? Slut.

Girl 2 (clawed into the stall door): We did it on your couch last night. HA!

Girl 1 (either in blood or really bad lipstick): Go to hell! You’re a dirty WHORE.

I love the use of different media for writing on the walls. Seriously, lipstick on bathroom stall walls, Sharpies, carving into the wood…brilliant. OK, so maybe I’m being slightly facetious, but you get the point. And where do these Sharpies come from? Did I miss the boat here? Are we supposed to carry these wonderful permanent markers with us everywhere we go, just so we can scribble on bathroom walls when people claim that they like our boyfriend’s, or girlfriend’s, “hot bod”? I have a secret wish that these girls get the Sharpie mixed up with their lipstick after a few beers.

The real question is: How do these girls know that they are talking about the same Max? Is there only one Max in Baton Rouge? (Max, if you are out there, you need to learn to sleep with women who don’t frequent the same bar, or learn to use an alias.)

And who really cares if Max is good in bed? I certainly don’t. I’m more interested in whether or not Girl 1 and Girl 2 had a throwdown to fight over Max, and who got to screw him on the couch next. Maybe it was one of those bikini mud fights in the inflatable kiddie pools. You know, the kind teenage boys fantasize about during math class.

I actually went into the men’s bathroom at that dirty bar in North Carolina, too, just to see what was on the walls. It had a single stall, and my cousin’s girlfriend and I locked ourselves in for about fifteen minutes, laughing hysterically at some of the Sharpied bits of wisdom.

There was the oh-so-true: “You never know a woman until you meet her in court.”

My personal favorite: “No matter how hot she is, someone, somewhere is sick of her sh–t.”

The classic: “Frat boys swallow.”

And have you ever noticed that there’s always a girl’s phone number on the wall? You know the message I’m talking about: “For a good time call Lucy at 555-1010.”

Dane Cook does a bit in one of his stand-up shows about this exact thing. “How’d you meet your wife, John? Well, I was taking a crap.”

Can you imagine how that relationship started? Let’s explore:

John: Um, hi, Lucy?

Lucy (in a sex kitten voice): Yes, this is Lucy.

John: Um, I got your number off the bathroom stall at The Station.

Lucy: Oh, of course. You know, it is just so much cheaper than signing up for eHarmony^®… So, what do you look like?

Imagine Lucy and John describing how they met to their grandchildren. Seriously, I think I want to vomit or laugh till I can’t breathe, either one.

So what’s the moral of the story? I’m not 100% sure, other than it’s time for you to take a good look at what your friendly neighborhood bar patrons have scribbled on the bathroom stalls lately. I highly recommend this pastime after a really bad day at work. Not much else makes you feel as good about yourself as those walls will.

And Max, wherever you are, get tested. I have a feeling that Girl 2 might be doing more than you on Girl 1’s couch.