Dear drunk revelers from Saturday night: It was 1:35 in the morning. You just got kicked out of the bar. You're wasted and really need to take a shit. I can understand mistaking many things as a feces receptacle. Our store's doorway? Not really the first place I would go.
So on behalf of the staff that had that lovely morning surprise that had to be cleaned before opening - fuck you. I hope someone, in a drunken state, mistakes your face as a toilet. Eat shit and die. No love, the staff. —Tired of This Shit