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Cameras are absolutely everywhere these days. While they’ve always been prevalent in banks and department stores, now they’re in restaurants, parking lots, on top of traffic lights, and even built right into your super-sleek new cell phone. We’re used to being watched, sometimes even in dressing rooms at clothing retailers. Where cameras haven’t ventured (yet) is into public bathrooms.

Or so They would have you believe. I have what could probably be considered an irrational fear that there are hidden cameras behind the mirrors in public bathrooms. When I am washing my hands or checking to make sure I don’t have any crap in my teeth, I feel like I’m being watched. I know it’s a little ridiculous and that it’s not actually the case, but I’m still highly conscious of it whenever I’m there. Who would want to tape that? No one. The worst offense they might catch someone doing is leaving without washing their hands or urinating on the toilet paper in a stall (which I might have done once or twice when I was an incorrigible youth).

To be perfectly honest, it’s not just public bathrooms that make me wonder about this. If I’m in someone’s home for the first time, I might try to peek behind the back of the mirror in the bathroom to see if there’s a noticeable hole in the drywall. It’s retarded. I’m retarded. However, I suspect the majority of you reading this are also retarded in your own special ways. Now’s the time to share your “tinfoil hat” theories with the rest of the group.

I have a new favorite sport to watch in single-frame intervals, and after today’s photo gallery, I think all of you will as well. Enjoy the hilarious world of competitive diving.

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People are disgusting.

Not all of them, of course, but some of them. Probably a lot more than I realize.

“Zesty,” you are probably all saying, “what in God’s name are you talking about? I shop at Wal-Mart. I already know some people are disgusting.” I know you do. Some people have poor hygiene practices and walk around with greasy hair and B.O. and clothes that look like they were last washed before a three-day shift of shoveling horse manure out of a steaming hot stable. But I’m not talking about people like that. I am talking about people who are disgusting… sexually.

I was joking back and forth earlier today with my good friend Poynte Blank about one of our superiors having some problems with their relationship. During the course of our banter, it was suggested that said superior’s should possibly be notified that their significant other greatly enjoyed receiving a Cleveland Steamer.

For those of you that don’t know what a Cleveland Steamer is (parents, make your impressionable young children leave the room before reading any further), allow me to enlighten you. Imagine for just a moment that you are engaged in consensual sexual intercourse with a partner of your choosing. After this session is completed, you squat above your partner and defecate directly onto their chest. Congratulations - you just gave someone a Cleveland Steamer*.

How gross is that? When I was in middle school, a pornography-loving friend of mine showed me a picture he had downloaded from a BBS (this was pre-internet, kids) of a guy who had his mouth open while a women crapped into it. It was pretty horrible. Ever since then, I have wondered how a person could possibly have any sort of positive mental association between sex and excrement [note to self: add ’sexcrement’ to personal lexicon]. How is that good for a relationship? Would a person going to marriage counseling ever hear this?

“Jim, Karen has just told you that you act like a different person toward her and your children when you drink. Karen, Jim has said that he feels like he needs to drink to get away from the oppressive monotony of his existence. I have seen this type of thing many times over the years, and what I find typically works the best for couples is to increase the frequency of lovemaking, and having one of them shit on the other’s chest afterward.”

As gross as all of this is, it gives me a little bit of hope about the world. After all, if some weirdo out there who gets off on crapping on top of his loved one can find someone who’s willing to let him, then maybe - just maybe - there is someone out there who is just right for me (and doesn’t mind if I want to pee on her face).

* - for future reference, if you ever need to find out what something like this or a “rusty trombone” or anything else means and don’t want to feel stupid asking, hit up urbandictionary.com.