Saturday, November 05, 2005

It Can't Get Any Worse Than This

Damn, my bladder feels like it's going to burst. My friend looks alarmed. "Didn't you go before you left home?" she asks, as if we were stuck on a ride at Disney World as opposed to sitting in a nightclub. It's either face the inevitable or leave, and it seems silly to go home just to use the facilities. I decide to brave it, even though I forgot my rubber gloves and disinfectant.

Comedians are always joking about how women go to the bathroom in twos or threes. I'm going to set the record straight: it's not because we're insecure and tribal, or having hot lesbian sex. It's because every time you relieve yourself in this city, you take your life into your hands. The Gulf War had nothing on the germ warfare we battle in there.

Your first challenge is to gain entry while avoiding contact with all surfaces. If it's a door with a knob you have to twist open, you're screwed. The best thing to do is wait until someone opens it from the inside and slip in as she leaves. If the door swings on a hinge, you can either use your shoulder to nudge the door open -- with the idea that you will throw out the top you're wearing later, as even a hot-water wash and 90 minutes in the dryer does not kill fecal matter -- or turn your back to the door and kind of nestle it open with your bum. You can also try the Femme Nikita approach: kick it open with your foot and hope nobody is on the other side.

When choosing a stall, use your sense of hearing as well as smell. Some-times washrooms are equipped with chunks of pink or blue deodorant that traumatize the nasal passages with the smell of lye and roses. You may be unable to detect malodorous signs that a stall may be dangerous.
If the stalls are occupied, listen for certain sounds -- retching, vomiting and the pitter-patter of drops on hard surfaces are all bad signs. I can detect the crackling sound of a panty-liner being ripped from underwear and thrown on the floor from 30 feet. Gross, I know.

You may assess the situation by looking at the feet beneath the stalls. There are certain postures that signify women are up to no good in there. For instance, standing on tiptoes is not a good sign. Neither is someone's feet sticking out with the soles exposed. The media thinks women are wearing platform shoes because the '70s are back. The truth is, we're wearing platforms to prevent our feet from coming into contact with the fetid floor muck that can rise as high as two inches.

Once a stall becomes available, it is important to use the above-mentioned Femme Nikita approach. You will encounter one of two kinds of locks: the broken sliding bolt or the broken twist-and-turn. If you're wearing a coat, keep it on rather than resting it on any germ-laden surface. Never set your purse down on the back of the toilet seat or, God forbid, the sanitary-napkin disposal unit.

The toilet lid will either be up or down and covered with mysterious moisture. The bowl will either be clean, full of bodily fluids or wadded up with toilet paper. Do not be tempted to sit on what appears to be a clean seat. Do not attempt to lower or raise the seat. Don't do anything. Gently slide your underwear down to a position somewhere around your mid-calves. Sliding them above the knee may cause them to be splashed by friendly fire, and sliding them to your ankles may bring them in contact with the floor.

Once you have slid your underwear into position, inch yourself backward while bending in a half-squat until you are hovering over the toilet bowl. Do this without touching the sides of the stall. You may have to hold the door closed with one available outstretched finger. Now try to go without hitting the seat, while preventing your panties from touching the bowl.
Your next challenge may be the procurement of toilet paper. If there is none, you are in for a drip-dry. Don't accept toilet paper from anyone else. Their hands could have been touching the door, the toilet seat, anything! If the toilet paper is the little waxy, non-absorbent square kind, you will need at least 10 or 11.

Now it is time for the flush. Do not touch the toilet handle. Stretch out one leg like a ballerina and flush with your foot. Now get the hell out of there... especially if the flushing noise continues for longer than a minute. Cover your face with a scarf or your hands -- a recent study found that every time a toilet is flushed, it shoots a Hiroshima burst of bacteria eight feet into the air.

It now becomes necessary to wash your hands. This seems a bit self-defeating, as you must touch the germ-laden tap, and the water will not be hot enough to achieve the sterilization you'll need. Touch a paper-towel dispenser and die. Don't think you'll be saved by holding your hands underneath the dryer -- a study shows that those things actually shower you with more bacteria. Your best bet is to hold your hands out in front of you, like the Bride of Frankenstein, and let them air-dry. Or you could go back to your table and wipe them on your boyfriend's shirt. What the hell -- there's nothing you can do at this point. You've been contaminated.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

What Did They Just Say?!?

Have you thought about just how different men and women really are from each other? In their thoughts and what comes out of their mouths? I have. And sometimes it just boggles the mind.


  • I love her but she won't commit to me.
  • She's an ambler, a gambler and a midnight rambler.
  • We have an "open" relationship.
  • She's a bad girl, but I love her because she's bad.
  • I'm saving myself for her.
  • She's the wind beneath my wings.
  • Do these jeans make my thighs look fat?
  • She looks really rugged and handsome with a beard.
  • Sometimes I just like to have a good cry, and then I feel better.
  • She only hit me that one time and she promised me it will never happen again.
  • Why does she never phone?
  • I get so embarrassed when construction workers whistle at me.
  • I go wherever she goes and I'm happy.
  • I have to do something about these laugh-lines around my eyes.
  • Shopping cheers me up.
  • Oh, no, I have cellulite.
  • I got my bikini line waxed the other day... ooh, ouch!
  • She has big feet so that means she must have a big sex organ.
  • I carry my whole life around in my purse.
  • I have to pamper my sensitive skin.
  • I think we should meet and have a nice, long talk about our relationship and the direction it's headed.
  • I just found a suspicious-looking lump in my breast.
  • You treat me like a sex object!
  • I don't brag at how well I do at my job in case it affects her low self-esteem.
  • Some days, I look in the mirror and I hate myself.
  • As a man, I have special dietary requirements that are different from a woman's.
  • I fake orgasms all the time so she won't feel bad.
  • Women are women -- they think with their dinks.
  • I have nothing to wear.
  • She has a fear of intimacy.
  • I want to be with him forever.
  • I feel used.
  • I have needs.
  • You're just like all the rest.
  • Are you done already?


  • Holy Crap, look at the balls on that one!
  • I used to love him but I had to kill him.
  • I'm a loner and a rebel.
  • Hey, I did you a favor by leaving him.
  • Nice legs, shame about the face.
  • Wham, bam, thank-you, sir!
  • If only he didn't spoil everything by opening his mouth.
  • Why does he keep phoning me all the time?
  • If he wants to see me he knows where to find me.
  • There's those couple a days a month when I know to just... Stay away!
  • He led me on.
  • There goes a piece of ass!
  • He's a screamer. He's a moaner. He's easy.
  • He could use a pluck job on his eyebrows.
  • Stay away from him... He's an ovary-breaker!
  • Nice tits.
  • He wants it... You can tell.
  • He's good-looking so he's probably a bastard.
  • If you really loved me, you'd let me take off the condom.
  • Let's live together first and see how it works out and then get married.
  • Sex is sex.
  • Power is an aphrodisiac -- men will be attracted to you no matter what you look like if you have power.
  • He didn't mean anything to me, I swear. It's you I love, I did it just for the sex.
  • Don't take the way I am personally -- it's just the way I am.
  • I never hit him, I just punch a wall or something instead when I get angry.
  • I love you but I'm not in love with you.
  • You're too needy.
  • I'm no good for you, babe.
  • Go find someone worthy of you.
  • I don't want to upset you more than you are already, so I thought it best to just stay away.
  • Forever is a long time.
  • I wear the same socks every day.
  • Women have all the power.

Yes, it is strange how different we are in our way of thinking. But I guess we just have to live with it.

Monday, October 31, 2005

I'm the Hare, Where's My Pocket Watch?

Waking up late just totally screws up your whole day. Ugh. Ok, so we did the Fall back thing with the time, but you would think that it would give me an extra hour (sort of) in my day. Of course, it doesn't seem to work that way for me.

I over slept today. For some reason I woke up at 8 am on the dot. Instead of 7 am. This is not good. My son has to catch his bus at 8:30. It takes him ten minutes at least, to actually make it out of his bed and into the shower. Then he takes at least a 45 minute shower. I think he sleeps another ten minutes while he's in there, but I'm not sure. So when I woke him I let him know that we were running late, and I might have to drive him to school. ( I hate doing that, only because there is one lane into the school and one lane out. For his school and an elementary school. ARGH!)

Then he gets out of the shower and tells me that he doesn't feel well. I reminded him that it will screw up his perfect attendance for the semester (they have a party for perfect attendance kids). He thinks about that. Then I tell him, that if he is sick, there is no t.v. and no video games. He thinks real hard about that. Then I remind him that today is Halloween. If he is sick today, there will be no going to parties, or trick-or-treating tonight (this is supposed to be his last year doing that). He didn't say a word about that. He just walked into his room and got dressed. We were shortly on our way to school. Funny how things work out, huh? I don't know if it's a mom thing or what, but I am sure I would have known if he was really sick. SO don't think I sent my kid to school sick.

So now I'm an hour off my schedule and still with tons left to do. This is where my talent of multi-tasking come in. For instance, while I write this, I have a load of laundry in the dryer, one in the wash, I have the space heater on high directed at my head, so I won't have to blow dry, I scrubbed the shower out while I was taking a shower, vacuumed the floor while brushing my teeth, and so forth.

Sometimes I even amaze myself. But now I gotta get movin' some more, before my euphoria at multi-tasking wears off.