I'm going to start a new mini-series on my blog because it appears that my dear readers appreciate the short witty entries to my long-winded societal tirades. C'est ca. I shall begin with a recent story bordering on bathroom humor/public humiliation, two things I happen to know something about.
The day in question found me whizzing along the highway guzzling water, as is my wont, enroute to a day of chesterfield-shopping with my own dear sister. At the time, I still resided in that red-neck-loving town that shall remain nameless, so it was a considerable jaunt to my sister's abode in Grand Rapids. By the time I arrived I was in dire need of Facilities, my kidneys being the overachivers they are. Being only my second trip to my sister's apartment, I relied on my keen sense of direction to point me at her door. Rushing up the stairs, I immediately began to pound urgently, uttering plaintive cries as I did so:
"Jamie! Let me in! Let me in, girl! I need to go potty!" I shouted as I continued to pound. "What is taking you so long? Get your ass moving! I'm dying here!"
At last, I heard her respond, "I'm coming! I'll be right there!" I could tell by the way she said it she was thinking I really was dying!
When the door finally opened, a frazzled looking elderly woman was looking at me with the wide-open eyes of a terrified woman. "Are you ok?" she asked with genuine concern.
Not understanding (apparently the urea had gone to my brain), I exclaimed, "Where's Jamie?!?!"
"I don't know any Jamie. Do you need to use my restroom?"
Damn!
Rushing down the stairs, I knocked on the door directly beneath the old lady's. I knew that if Jamie wasn't upstairs, she had to be the apartment directly below. To my surprise, it was not Jamie who answered the door. It was a beer-guzzling, pot smoking, dirty-looking guy who was partying it up with his good friends at 10:30 on a Saturday morning.
"Hey, baby" he said, "How's it going?" Somehow he managed to burp it out without once raising his eyes above my cleavage-level.
Damn! Foiled again!
I quickly excused myself and rushed away, but being the gallant gent he so obviously was, he decided to escort me.
Walking quickly, I was loudly explaining that I knew exactly where I was going when....Jamie walked out on her balcony.
We both nearly peed our pants over it.
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7 comments:
A man of few words.
If you were in such a state even the old lady knew you needed to use a restroom why on earth didn't you take her offer?
I think it was the humiliation at telling her to move her ass. Yeah, it was definitely that.
Makes no sense to me, after all you risked the even worst humiliation of peeing your pants. But what I really would love to see was a snapshot of both your faces at that time, I bet it would be something unique!
My quixotic nature is exactly what keeps my dear readers coming back. It would not be a Bunnyjo story if I *gasp* did something sensical!
Yeah, that was funny. I should have made her keep knocking until she found me. HA HA...
A great story, almost dampened my own favorite chair, one for the books! A true Laura happening.
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