More skid marks

The reason for so many skid marks lately is because I can't think of anything with any real depth to talk about. So. Here you go.

• You know how the light automatically comes on in some public restrooms as you enter? They ought to have music do that, too. They have elevator music, music in stores, and music for when you're on hold. How about automatic bathroom music? Handel's Messiah could chime in with "Hallelujah!" just at the right time.
• Speaking of public restrooms, don't you think the hand washing sink needs to be outside, like, after you leave the john, after you pull open the probably-contaminated door to leave?
• Advice: If you discover a dime soaking at the bottom of a urinal and you just happen to be too cheap to pick it out of there, just throw in another dime and a nickel to make it worth at least a quarter to you. (Some drunken old geezer told me that years ago, so now I'm telling you...)
• I'd love to see sequels to movies like Scarface with Al Pacino, but the fact of the matter is, all the characters are dead, which is probably good because sequels aren't ever any good anyway.
• Signing the backs of credit cards is one of the most difficult tasks I've ever attempted to do. It's my self consciousness, I'm sure. Knowing that it is scrutinized so frequently, much more than my driver's license. Or maybe because the space in which to do it is so confined, I'm overly concerned with staying within the lines. Whatever. I just can't do it. It turns into a scrappy squiggle mess of my typical signature.