Valentines Day at 7-Eleven (Part 2)

I’d love to see their gravy bowl.

Continued from Part 1

Lovers recoil. It’s time for part (number) 2 of that 7-Eleven review you probably didn’t even bother to begin reading anyway.

Last week, I “treated” you to a journey through my Valentine’s date at a Northside 7-Eleven that sells liquor. And everyone knows the important role liquor plays in cultivating a loving relationship. Either that or chloroform.

If you actually enjoyed living vicariously through me losing my “V-card” at 7-Eleven on 14110 127th st NW in Edmonton Alberta, then you might want to hold your nose for this next smelly segment.

I’ve been tiring worklessly for literal hours to bring you a satisfying conclusion to this special restroom report. When we last parted ways, your perverted, potty-peering appraiser had just finished some complementary snacks from a generous, gentleman of a manager.

Here’s what I found after chowing down on my free chacken.

The restroom doors at 7-Elven in the back of the store.
Grey and tucked away.

The bathroom isn’t difficult to locate. I also don’t need a key to enter, which can definitely be nice if you’re in a hurry. It’s very trusting of 7-Eleven to assume I’m not about to abuse the privilege by showing up in labour or something. (Then again, after those free chicken wings, I just might be.) So far, so good. Nothing out of the ordina–wait a second!

A discarded, wrinkled piece of toilet paper lying on the floor. An alarm is going off. "MAJOR INFRACTION" "ALERT"

Uh oh. A stray TP sighting, located outside the “acceptable, reasonable, understandable” zone of TP debris. This isn’t a good sign.

Alright, it’s a convenience store in Edmonton. I know it’s not going to be spotless, but when there’s a used-toilet-paper-trap outside the door, it puts me on high alert right away.

Speaking of spots, it’s hard not to notice these ones. I feel like if I used a UV / black light on this door, it would tell quite the sloppy story.

Spotty scum visible on the bathroom door. A black light shining against it, showing little purple smiling sperms.
Spotty History.

Yeah, maybe I’m being harsh. No one would actually rub one out onto the door of a gas station restroom, right?


Toilet with a floater inside. A man holding his nose next to it. A gas mask symbol.
Don’t mind if I …don’t.

I open the door and gag. This place stinks, and I can tell it’s not exclusively due to the pepperoni pizza someone left behind on their laxative-lunch break. This stank is foul beyond its years. Also: what’s with the plunger?

A plunger with no handle next to the toilet. Mario is crying, Luigi is consoling him.
“Come on, Mario. You’ve grieved enough. Let’s a go.”

I guess this explains the floater. I wouldn’t want to take my chances with the plumbing here, either. Best case scenario: The toilet clogs and you escape un-soaked. Worst case? Say goodbye to your shoes and socks. In fact, say goodbye to your feet. They’re done. Say goodbye to everything, basically. Just say goodbye.

Crusty toilet brush haphazardly lying on the floor next to the toilet.
Brush up on your bathroom hospitality.

Pardon my fucks, but who the fuck steals the toilet brush cup from a fucking 7-Eleven bathroom? Fucking gross. What can you even use such an item for? Drugs? Beverages? Are you making fucking sand castles with these things? I know times are tough, but come on. Find some better loot! Fuck.

Toilet brush cups on a beach next to toilet brush sand castles.
Even the seagulls are probably puking.

Do the plunger and the toilet brush make you uneasy? Well, you might want to close your eyes if you’re actually thinking about risking the flush. Jesus, people. Maybe you guys need to find a robot who can clean instead of making Valentines day ornaments.

A cleaning robot maid dusting on top of the toilet's flush lever. The toilet is dirty.
Just lever alone.

It can’t get any worse than this, can it?

An air freshener with what appears to be blood splattered on it.
Yes, yes it can.

How do I know this is blood? Because no one in their right mind would open a ketchup packet in this shithole. I can barely swallow in this room without food in my mouth. I highly doubt anyone’s casually feasting on french fries while parked on this putrid potty. I will, however, give some credit to the casualty in question for reaching the ceiling with their open, gushing wound.

You’ve got a killer spray there, man.

The top of a T.P. dispenser with the word "WART" etched into it.
Personal touch.

Ah, finally. Something…good? This wonderful white-out latrinalia on top of the hand-dryer really brings the room together, don’t you think? Really. It fits the themes here perfectly: Communicable diseases, noxious odours, and questionable motives. And while the dryer in here might be a touchless model—if any handsfree appliance is going to give you warts, it’s this one.

That leaves us with the sink.

The sink, mirror, and soap dispenser.
Time to reflect.

From a distance…not so bad! The mirror is (relatively) clean. I wouldn’t use it to shave or anything, but it’s been given notably more attention than the rest of the room. I’m not sure I really want to know why it was wiped so recently, though. Perhaps it has something to do with the bloodspray?

Close up of the sink, with pink ooze leaking through the cracks. A man looks disgusted.
Pink in the sink.

Up close, well…Let’s just say I’ll be leaving yet another restroom with my hands unwashed. I ain’t touchin’ them crusty handles. It looks like the faucet is about to ooze out the pink slime monster from Ghostbusters 2.

Pink bathtub slime monster from Ghostbusters 2, captured in a screen shot.
Horrific, even for a sock puppet.

I’m happy to say that the only other visible slime here is the kind that’s intended for your hands. This Zep 1200 ml Fuzion Wall Mount Dispenser (Model JL 668) is perfectly functional and has a healthy fill of hand soap just waiting to sploodge all over your sticky, dirty digits.

Zep 1200 ml Fuzion Wall Mount  Dispenser and a green check mark.
Right back atcha, 7-Eleven.

At least they got this part right. However, I must say the advisory message on the dispenser feels like a fucking sardonic slap in the face, considering its surroundings.

No can do. (Okay, probably at least some “can-do.”)

The garbage can is in acceptable condition. And by acceptable, I mean not stolen. Honestly though, it’s a good size and fit for the layout of this restroom. I’d almost say it was perfect if it weren’t for the unbearable stench radiating through its cloudy, crud-specked steel walls.

I’m not exaggerating. It smells like someone literally shit their pants and decided to abandon them altogether. Sadly, after opening the lid, it looks like someone did just that.

Alright, I’m officially nauseous. It’s time to get out of here.

Before leaving, I can’t help but notice this switch on the inside of the door, though.

What the heck is this thing? It’s not an occupied switch. It isn’t a lock. It isn’t a fan, (although a fan would have been nice). All I can guess is it’s some sort of notification knob for…something? Cleanliness? (Maybe that’s why it’s flipped downward.)

I’ve had enough surprises.

Whatever. The longer I look at it, the longer I have to inhale the fumes from that filthy flannel diaper in the garbage can.

Anyone know what this thing is? Let me know in the comments! Or at least let me know what you think it is. I may be a restroom reviewer, but I’m sometimes unfamiliar with appliances and features that pre-date the cold-war.

Overall, 7-Eleven has created a spacious, date friendly space well-suited to customers yearning for more than a quick stop for ciggies and a slurpee. Interestingly, this particular 7-Eleven doesn’t show up when Googling “nearby restaurants,” which definitely hurts their potential of finding people like me who are too cheap and/or broke to spend money at an actual restaurant—I mean, a different restaurant.

Having said that, I’d still recommend it as a quirky first-date location for anyone caught under cupid’s spell. Just make sure you freshen up at home.

Smell / Cleanliness0/5
Accessibility 2/5

Toilet Paper Rating: 1.4 / 5

10 thoughts on “Valentines Day at 7-Eleven (Part 2)

    1. I definitely like the way you think. I think a strongly worded letter is in order somewhere. To someone. Although I’m not sure how confident I’d be using a washroom after seeing a team of cleaners suited up in biohazard suits exit the scene. Certainly not a job I’d sign up for, that’s for sure. Haha. Thank you so much for the comment and for reading!


    1. Thank you for taking the time to read this! I can’t say I’ve ever relieved myself in a cattle pen, so you are clearly more cultured than I am (even if it might be the bacterial type). Just kidding! Your comment has made my day and given me a genuine laugh. Thanks again Russell!

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Love your sense of humor and the fact that you take time to rate restrooms. I currently live in the UK where some of the plumbing is so old that the toilet flushes from a tank way up on the wall that has a long chain hanging down (even in some hospitals) and the door hardware has been painted over so many times that I use the toilet without locking the door – for fear I will get stuck…which actually happened to my husband, and the hot and cold water in the sinks are separate handles which means…how the heck can you wash your hands without scalding them or freezing them.


    1. That chain situation sounds so incredibly archaic and bizarre. The way I’m picturing it in my head gives it a creepy, comedic Addams Family quality. Especially considering you can get trapped as if you’re in some toilet-torture chamber. I hope your husband made it out okay! I’ve also experienced the scolding of many a shoddy faucet, including the one in my apartment. The temperature is always one extreme or the other, with no middle ground. I’ve taken to appreciating cold showers and the masochistic joy of shivering. Thank you for reading, and commenting! I love hearing about restrooms overseas! Take care, and be careful turning those handles!


  2. That device looks like some sort of lock to me. This toilet made me woozy. Your liberal doses of humour managed to calm me down. I’m a clean freak, especially when it comes to toilets. Posts like this work well as exposure therapy…


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