Category Archives: Only Me

Embarrassing Bathroom Stories are Fun to Read!

I was reading Joelles post about pooping in public restrooms and it reminded me of one of my most embarrassing moments in life.

When Tony and I first got married, he wanted to go to Tijuana to visit his grandparents. I wasn’t too thrilled with the idea. When I was a young girl, I had to go there with my parents are part of their church ministry and I know what the “bathroom situation” is like in most places. The idea of staying somewhere for more than a day where I might possibly have to take a dump in a box with a hole cut out didn’t appeal to me at all. (I have bathroom issues.) He swore to me that his grandparents lived in a modern house, with running water and an actual toilet. I fought the idea of going, but I realized I was acting like a spoiled rotten brat and agreed to go. However, I wasn’t thrilled about it.

We arrived and I was thrilled to see that yes, they had a toilet! However, the toilet was in the middle of the living room. There were four pieces of wood surrounding the toilet that went about halfway up to the ceiling. So, while you technically had “privacy”, there was really no barriers to keep the sounds/smells confined to the bathroom area. I was slightly mortified, but hey! it was a real toilet that I could flush! And besides, it was just us and his grandparents at the house. I could totally deal with that.

A few hours after we arrived, Tony’s grandmother began making chocolate milkshakes for us to drink. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by saying “no thank you.” So, I had a milkshake. But then, she made another one and then, another one and you guys! I kept drinking them so as not to offend her. Later that night, my stomach started to hurt really bad. Uh, oh. I thought to myself. I know what’s about to happen and it’s not going to be pretty.

I was laying in bed with severe stomach cramps when I heard people start coming through the front door. The started to file in, one, two, three at a time. Before you know it, the entire living room was filled with people. And these people were ALL MEN.

“What the hell is happening here?” I asked my husband. He went to talk to his grandma to find out.

Apparently, his grandfather was very active in Mexican politics and that night he was hosting A TOWN MEETING! In his living room! The same living room that had the only toilet in the house right in the middle of it! With only four boards around it so no one could see you, but everyone could hear and smell you!

Oh hell no. This was not happening. Except, it was happening! OH MY GOD IT WAS HAPPENING.

I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t. I ran to the living room. After making my way past two thousand Mexican men, I made it to the “bathroom.”

OH LORD JESUS, HELP THESE PEOPLE FOR WHAT THEY ARE ABOUT TO HEAR… and smell

And then. It happened.

Sitting on a toilet, shitting out dozens of milkshakes in the middle of a mofo TOWN MEETING. It was loud in the room, so that helped to calm my anxiety about what was happening just a little bit. Until THE ROOM GOT QUIET. I sat there, crying, asking Jesus to JUST KILL ME NOW PLEASE because I had no idea how I was going to find the strength to exit that bathroom after what I had just done.

I sat there until I figured out an exit strategy. I was going to walk out of there with my head held high, like, YEAH, I JUST DID THAT… WHAT??! But that’s not what happened. I walked out of there, saw the line of people waiting to use the same toilet I had just tore the hell up, and ran out of there– tears streaming down my face– as fast as I could.

So there you have it. My Most Embarrassing Bathroom Story.

Care to share yours?

On second thought, DON’T! I don’t want to hear it!

Shattered dreams

I am always looking for the easy way out of things. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the damn truth. This character flaw of mine makes me a total sucker for infomercial products.
Imagine my excitement when I heard these words late one night while feeling sad about having gained weight WHILE eating chips and dip.
“Get The Body You’ve Always Wanted In Just 6 Minutes Of daily Workout!”
I put down the chips and dip, got out a pen and paper and grabbed the cordless phone.
I saw the device.
bodyblade1.jpg
“This can’t be for real.” I thought. “That looks wayyyyy too easy. It can’t be true!” I continued to watch. They showed this hot chick with this piece of rubber in her hand, bouncing it up and down. It was working every muscle in her body. They even went into sssssllllooowww mmmmootttttiioooonnn so you could see how every muscle was being worked!
“I CAN DO THAT! I MUST HAVE THAT!”
I ordered it for the great price of JUST $100! (Or! Just 5 payments of $19.99! Plus tax and shipping!)
That’s right, a hundred bucks, but hey! Look at that chick! a body like that is worth $100.00 and in only SIX MINUTES A DAY.
I got it a few days later and opened the box up, all excited because in just SIX MINUTES A DAY for the next few weeks, I was going to look like THIS!
When the package arrived, I opened the box full of hope. All I had to do was flap that thing up and down–side to side and I would have the body of my dreams! But then, I actually held that piece of rubber in my hands and attempted to do it just like the hot chicks and the buff dudes in the commercial.
Um…that shit was hard. And not hard in the way that a good workout should be. It wasn’t as simple and moving that piece of rubber back and forth, there were actual things involved that required a bit of skill. Things like “rhythm” and “not feeling like an asshole while working up to said rhythm because ha ha, am I really holding a giant piece of rubber in my hands in the hopes of looking look like this?”
I would alternate between fits of laughter (HAHAHAHA LOOK AT ME TRYING TO SHAKE A GIANT RUBBER STICK!), shame (I’M WORKING OUT WITH A GIANT RUBBER STICK.) and anger (DID I REALLY JUST SPENT ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS ON THIS GIANT RUBBER STICK?)
Needless to say, it didn’t work and that box is collecting dust in the garage along with my hopes and dreams of perfectly chiseled abs in just six minutes a day!!!

I know, I shouldn’t be eating them anyway, but that’s not the issue.

After 12 years of marriage, you’d think my man would get my fast food orders correct.
Ok, so I have issues with food. I am a psycho when it comes to food. I won’t eat the food he brings home if he didn’t get it exactly like I ordered. Example… One time he went to get burritos, I said “chicken burrito, no lettuce, no onions” (why I’d have to say this in the first place I have no idea seeing that he KNOWS I DON’T LIKE LETTUCE NOR ONIONS ON MY BURRITOS but that’s besides the point, really) So he brings home the burrito. SURPRISE! It has lettuce and onions. I look at him and, no lie, he hits his forehead and says, “sorry, I forgot to tell them no onions or lettuce.” I am pissed, I’m like “what the fuck? You know I don’t like onions! I TOLD you specifically to tell them no onions or lettuce and you still forgot?, I’M NOT EATING THIS FUCKING BURRITO, I’D RATHER STARVE THEN EAT A BURRITO WITH LETTUCE AND ONIONS!” Then I took the burrito and chucked it across the room, it splattered on the wall and slid down.
I told you…psyyyyyycho.
I’ve made no secret of the fact I love curly fries WITH RANCH DRESSING. So when I asked for curly fries with ranch dressing, you’d think he’d come home with curly fries and ranch dressing, right? Wrong. Curly fries, no ranch. He “forgot.” How the hell do you forget that? So, in protest, I threw them in the trash.
I could tell you story after story of the rage I get when I don’t get just what I wanted when it comes to food. (like the time he brought home the wrong flavored frozen yogurt and I squished the foam container with my hands and yogurt oozed all over my hands down my arms, an incident my sister refers to as “squish the foam”. I guess it’s because my whole life (until now, of course) I have deprived myself of so much junk food and things that I love to stay thin that when I do decide to splurge, I want it right. And then there’s the whole “you’ve been married to me long enough to know what the fuck I want” thing. I mean, how the hell does he forget to ask for ranch dressing with my curly fries?
Ok, I feel better now. Much better.
*thinks of digging fries out of the trash*