Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Kind of like a month, or so ago when I flipped over a child's chair in a doctor's office.
Boring. Sure it hurt like hell, but it would have been way funnier if it were in a different scenario.
Same injury, but now I'm on a HOT date with Mr. Who-cares-if-he-is-right. I am in a swanky restaurant that I have been dying to go to for months on end.
Upon us being seated, Mr. Who-cares orders a bottle of wine I've never heard of (Like I'd know a good one from a bad one anyway). I have a case of the nerves, so I've swallowed the first glass down before my Mr.Who has smelled the bouquet of something or other. I'm just nodding in agreement.
Oh great! I have to pee. I can't go. We just got here. So I politely carry on with the dinner.
Has anyone ever understood the Wait Staff when they come over and hurriedly spew out the menu? Why do they look confused when you ask them what was the first one again?
I have now had one glass of water (hoping to offset the wine), two and a half glasses of wine, a tasters snip of something apple like (yum), and one snippet of bubbly sweet wine (Sparkling wine). Somewhere between the tastings I lost my Pee signal.
Uh oh. I now have got to go so bad it's ugly. I excuse myself with Mr. Who, and do my best not to race to the bathrooms. I get to the overly flowered facility and throw open a door to my Pee Heaven.
I am done right . Nope.
You see, they have these people in those bathrooms. I know that they are there to help you out. Most people just tip them and never make eye-contact. They can tell when a fellow female in their Sisterhood is down and needs assistance.
In this version I am falling to my knees as I slide into the Ladies Room. I am disregarding the Pain I have acquired from my scrambling. I made it to the toilet.
I did not piss my pants.
Oh crap. I somehow have to make it back to Mr. Who.
Screw it. He is probably flirting with the wait staff still.
OK. Stay away from Pain, but if you see her just kindly let her know she will never take me down.