I’m not normally paranoid.
I don’t think everyone’s talking about me. I don’t think everyone’s out to get me, or to steal my identity — even though it turns out they actually are.
But, in specific areas of my life, I do think someone’s watching me.
There are two occasions where I’m certain I’m being filmed:
1) Using chopsticks
2) Peeing in a public bathroom.
The chopsticks footage worries me less, because I’m not famous. There’s no market value in a video titled:
“Laura Belgray’s Piece Of Yellowtail Sashimi Slips Five Times As Her Chopsticks Fail To Come Together And Keep Missing Each Other Like Opposing Magnets, Then Falls Into The Overflowing Soy Sauce Dish, But Ultimately Makes Its Way To Her Mouth When She Gives Up And Impales It On The Sharp End Like A Shish Kebob.”
It won’t make it to TMZ. Worst that could happen is it ends up in a barely-viewed youtube compilation called “Chopstick ‘Tards LOL.”
It’s the one of me peeing that freaks me out.
I know this recording is out there, and it’s just for some poor pervert’s private use and that should be his problem, not mine, but I hate the idea of him groaning with pleasure while watching me at my most vulnerable and awkward: quads flexed, trying to make sure the cuffs of my jeans don’t touch the floor and that my butt doesn’t graze the already-peed-on toilet seat.
You think I’m kidding, but a few news stories over the years about hidden restroom cameras have me convinced I’m being live streamed — pun intended — every time I squat over a toilet that’s not in my own home.
Whether in a swampy, gas station hellhole toilet or a stall in our favorite West Village restaurant, I always, always, always check around for a little red light before I dare to pull down my jeans. I scope out the ceiling light, the fold-down diaper changing table, the toilet paper dispenser, and yes, inside the porcelain bowl. (Google Chuck Barry and “toilet tapes.”) Of course, I also sweep the room for teddy bears. I’m no dummy.
Even at a party in a friend’s apartment, after I double check that I locked the bathroom door, I fling the shower curtain open ready to find a recording device, or maybe a person with a full-on news camera, lying wait in the bathtub. I’m forever ready for the moment where I discover evidence of Wee Wee Big Brother and scream “I KNEW IT!!!!”
Am I crazy? You may think so, but I bet the guy watching videos of both you and me going potty would disagree.