Boys, hide your eyes. I'm going to talk about men-stroo-ation. Again. Sorry.
Ladies, you know that there are periods and then there are those periods that make you step back and say "Great jumping jehosephat, what on earth happened to me?"
It's like when you are standing there at the Niagara Falls, feeling like there is NO WAY all that water could come from Canada. It just doesn't seem possible. But there it is.
Last night I was having a Niagara Falls incident.
And I was out watching quite possibly the world's most tweeted Karaoke Night with about a dozen bloggers at the unfortunately named "Dimples" in beautiful downtown Burbank, California.
I went to the one solo restroom to pee.
As soon as I sat down, someone rattled the door, trying to get in, and yelled SORRY!!
When I went to flush, the handle did that thing where it just goes all the way to the bottom without the normal feeling of flushing and then about 3 ounces of water dispenses into the bowl and the toilet contents swirl and swirl and never go down.
I waited and waited. I could hear the girl outside talking to someone. And then someone else.
I flushed ---- too soon --- swirl, swirl, swirl.
Waiting. Voices from outside "Come ONNNNN!" "My GAWD!!"
I considered just waltzing out and leaving the toilet unflushed. But the Niagara Falls effect had done its worst and I wasn't eager to share that with the world.
As a matter of fact, this photo of OJ:
was on the ceiling above the toilet, and it looked a bit like he had been there. On a certain night in June 1994. Allegedly.
So I waited and waited for the toilet to fill. Again. Again.
I was probably in there more than 5 minutes, which seems like forever when you are on the inside of a toilet stall door and you know there are a line of people on the outside of the toilet stall and YOU KNOW WHAT THEY ARE THINKING. And what they are thinking isn't "Oh, she is probably politely waiting for the defective toilet to finish flushing."
I had victory on the fourth flush. Evidence destroyed.
I walked out to a line of people glaring at me with Horror and Disgust. I was, in their eyes, the woman who had dared poop in the one tiny stall of a busy club.
I thought about trying to explain myself. "Niagara Falls! Canadians! Toilets that don't work right!" but then I decided to cut my losses and skeedaddle back to the truly embarrassing part of the evening - karaoke.
Badass Dad sings (and sings well) while Undomestic Diva videos/photos/tweets or something.