When you read that Questionable Critics would be covering a multitude of subjects, this probably wasn't what you imagined.
Reviewing public utilities has always been a hobby of mine. As I walk out of a new bathroom, I have the sudden urge to rate and critique. You can call it an obsession or a fetish. I'll call you judgmental, regardless, you heathen. How dare you judge me!
Reviewing public utilities has always been a hobby of mine. As I walk out of a new bathroom, I have the sudden urge to rate and critique. You can call it an obsession or a fetish. I'll call you judgmental, regardless, you heathen. How dare you judge me!
HEB Grocery | Brownsville, TX
Written by: Jacob Stachowiak
I've been going to this HEB grocery store since it opened. I never had the nerve to use the facilities there, but then I re-watched Liar Liar and remembered Jim Carrey saying holding it in can lead to impotence. I have a girlfriend, so I have to worry about these things now.
Hidden by an unusually large collection of gumball dispensaries, I had to decide which sexed bathroom to take. Typically, I ponder which one to enter. Why I do this every single time is beyond my feeble comprehension.
Once I escape my questionable albeit brief self-sexing, I push the door open with the authority of a teenager late for their 2nd period English class with that bitch teacher Mrs. Young. I don't want to hear about your C-Section in excruciating detail again, lady.
Upon entry, I'm greeted with the typical awful smells of Hispanic culture. Surely every restroom features these types of smells, but it was almost disturbing in nature. Beans, tortillas and welfare checks is the hell-smell combo.
As far as the actual urinary process goes, I'm a stall guy through and through. Unless I've heard a glory hole horror story on the day of, I'm usually heading for an empty stall first. I've seen too many creepy movies about creepy people standing at creepy urinals.
After I consummate the relationship with the newest found bathroom in my life, I find out that the toilet has no flush.
It's one of my biggest pet peeves. A fucking automatic flush.
Am I a moron that can't flush after going? Am I not intelligent enough to clean up after myself? Am I some kind of animal?
Why would you take this away from me? The flush is the only power I have in this situation. You may as well have castrated me; I feel powerless.
Urination is a release of oneself. If I am not allowed to flush it away, am I even in control of my own life? Why would I allow a machine to have so much control over my most basic functionalities?
This isn't HEB's fault for taking away my most primal rights. Some manufacturer did this to me. Some inventor thought he/she was creating this convenient tool for the future but instead built a machine to rip my humanity from me.
I will forever hate automated flushes for what they've done to us as a people.
As for cleaning, the soap dispenser was almost empty with a piddly amount of pink suds squirting out. The faucet was yet again automated, but I will save that rant for another review. After what the flush did to me, the sink was the last of my concerns.
Then, I learned there was no paper towel system either. One hand-dryer served as the sole way to dry off. Thirty seconds of standing there like a sloth, and I'm still not done. Another round of drying and a little more of me dies before I finally, mercifully make my exit.
Overall, it was absolutely below average with an insulting amount of automation. There was zero amount of effort placed into presentation and atmosphere as well (plain white walls with zero signage or wallpaper). The music outside of the room is muffled and therefore, awkward silence encapsulates an entirely uneventful experience.
I've been going to this HEB grocery store since it opened. I never had the nerve to use the facilities there, but then I re-watched Liar Liar and remembered Jim Carrey saying holding it in can lead to impotence. I have a girlfriend, so I have to worry about these things now.
Hidden by an unusually large collection of gumball dispensaries, I had to decide which sexed bathroom to take. Typically, I ponder which one to enter. Why I do this every single time is beyond my feeble comprehension.
Once I escape my questionable albeit brief self-sexing, I push the door open with the authority of a teenager late for their 2nd period English class with that bitch teacher Mrs. Young. I don't want to hear about your C-Section in excruciating detail again, lady.
Upon entry, I'm greeted with the typical awful smells of Hispanic culture. Surely every restroom features these types of smells, but it was almost disturbing in nature. Beans, tortillas and welfare checks is the hell-smell combo.
As far as the actual urinary process goes, I'm a stall guy through and through. Unless I've heard a glory hole horror story on the day of, I'm usually heading for an empty stall first. I've seen too many creepy movies about creepy people standing at creepy urinals.
After I consummate the relationship with the newest found bathroom in my life, I find out that the toilet has no flush.
It's one of my biggest pet peeves. A fucking automatic flush.
Am I a moron that can't flush after going? Am I not intelligent enough to clean up after myself? Am I some kind of animal?
Why would you take this away from me? The flush is the only power I have in this situation. You may as well have castrated me; I feel powerless.
Urination is a release of oneself. If I am not allowed to flush it away, am I even in control of my own life? Why would I allow a machine to have so much control over my most basic functionalities?
This isn't HEB's fault for taking away my most primal rights. Some manufacturer did this to me. Some inventor thought he/she was creating this convenient tool for the future but instead built a machine to rip my humanity from me.
I will forever hate automated flushes for what they've done to us as a people.
As for cleaning, the soap dispenser was almost empty with a piddly amount of pink suds squirting out. The faucet was yet again automated, but I will save that rant for another review. After what the flush did to me, the sink was the last of my concerns.
Then, I learned there was no paper towel system either. One hand-dryer served as the sole way to dry off. Thirty seconds of standing there like a sloth, and I'm still not done. Another round of drying and a little more of me dies before I finally, mercifully make my exit.
Overall, it was absolutely below average with an insulting amount of automation. There was zero amount of effort placed into presentation and atmosphere as well (plain white walls with zero signage or wallpaper). The music outside of the room is muffled and therefore, awkward silence encapsulates an entirely uneventful experience.
Perhaps, I should've taken pictures, but honestly I never thought I'd actually be doing this series.
Also, the shopping carts suck so bad at this location. They are rusty chunks of metal with wheels hanging on for dear life.
Maybe, I'll just review shopping carts from now on.
Also, the shopping carts suck so bad at this location. They are rusty chunks of metal with wheels hanging on for dear life.
Maybe, I'll just review shopping carts from now on.