As Lilu always says: ***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!
As I sit here writing, I am actually extremely close to having a TMI experience. My stomach is churning. I’m not sure if it’s because of the antibiotics I’m currently on, or because of the nearly 2 cups of peanut butter I spread over celery sticks last night in an effort to wain my sweet/carb tooth. Or it could be the gigantic bowl of beans I just ate. It’s most likely a combination of all of the above.
Refraining from eating carbs and drinking wine this week has resulted in my overindulging in protein in a not so healthy way. I’m not sure if this lifestyle is any better.
But that’s not my story. I’m gonna try to keep this short, because I may have an episode of emergencias de frijoles one way or the other in the near future. EEEEEK.
This particular tale occurred once again back in my days o’ college, or back when I was a still drinking. Which if you’re paying attention, was anytime before this Monday.
My friends and I were out in our college town, having our typical college night full of chugging nickle-natties and blasters. (Blaster= Fry St. code for Jager Bomb.)
I started out the night in typical “Hurricane Carissa” fashion- by dinging my best friend LA’s brand new (I mean within the first week brand new) car door against another car. She was a little peeved, but after the first few drinks and a few rants, she let it go.
On this particular night, we (read: I) were particularly boozed up. We made our way around all the bars and shortly before they closed at 2am, we decided it was time to call it a night. LA was playing designated driver for the night, mostly because she wanted a chance to drive us around in her new ride, but also because after the first bar it was apparent that neither I, or our other friend KT would be able to do the job.
Before we had even gotten to the parking lot, I made a loud announcement… “I have to pee.”
KT and I lived only a few blocks away, so they both quickly waved away my announcement and continued towards the parked car. Just as we were arriving at LA’s new car, KT’s ex-boyfriend spotted her in the parking lot. The details are blurry, but I do know that a heated argument started up between my friends and her ex’s group of friends. I stood a little behind the group, trying not to fall over as I looked longingly over my shoulder at the bars across the street, where I knew I could find a toilet street to squat over.
At some point during their argument, a couple of cops approached our group and started asking questions. Knowing I was not in a particularly good state of mind, and also that I didn’t have the best luck with the fuzz, LA sternly told me to go and get in the back seat of the car and to stay put.
“But I really have to go to the bathroom! Can’t I just run into one of the bars real quick,” I slurred. Or something to that effect.
“Absolutely not. Go and get into the car,” LA told me again as she pushed the clicker thing to unlock the door. “And do not get out of the car, no matter what.”
It all seemed a little dramatic, but at that point, I knew that my friend probably had better judgment than I, so I decided to follow her orders.
I got into the back seat of LA’s new car and settled in. I kept myself low in the seat as to not call attention to myself. The last thing I needed was to be interrogated. After about 5 minutes of waiting, I started to get a little restless… and my level of having to pee reallllly started escalating. I remember looking out the back window and saw that the cops were now making my friends do the standard drunk tests. Walking the line and what not. Or at least that is how I remember it.
I contemplated getting out of the car and running to the nearest bar to relieve myself, but I knew that probably wouldn’t end well, so I ultimately decided to stay put for the time being. At this point I was going between squirming unrelentingly, and literally holding my crotchal area, trying to keep it in.
After about 5 more minutes I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had no choice. It was either pee now, or pee now. There was no longer the option of forever holding my pee.
My options were limited. I couldn’t run for a bar, I would surely be stopped en-route. I couldn’t get out and pop a squat, that would surely end with a public urination ticket, though at this point I hardly cared.
I crawled up into the front seat and started rummaging around.
AHHHH AHHHH AHHHH (heaven sound effect)
There it was, sitting in the cup holder… glowing in the dim light of the parking lot.
A 32oz wide-lip bottle of Lemon-Lime Gatorade.
I could do this.
I carefully unzipped my pants and pulled them off where they settled on the floorboard of LA’s new car. I put both feet up on the back seat, and shuffled then out until I was in frog squat position. I positioned myself so that my face was away from my group of friends, who were still talking to the cops.
And then I positioned the bottle.
Just as I was relaxing into my squat and gearing up to make careful aim, I heard a loud bang from behind me that caused me to lose my footing. Luckily, I hadn’t yet completely relaxed my urinal muscles.
I turned to see a cop shining his light through the window, where only seconds before my bare-behind had been. I quickly pulled my pants back on and hung my head in shame as I opened the back door.
The cop grabbed me by my arm and asked if I had managed to “do anything.” I told him that I hadn’t, and that I still really had to go. I think he must have felt bad for me, because at that point he swiftly drug me over to my friends, looked at LA and said “I’m not even gonna tell you what she almost just did in your car, but yall need to get her to a restroom.”
Everyone was so relieved that they were finally able to leave that no one even mentioned what the cop had said about me. We quickly left, and LA drove us home where I was finally able to pee.
We all lived happily ever after.
Until a few months later when LA was telling the story about the cops in the parking lot to another one of our friends. It was all fun and laughs until she got to the end. She stopped abruptly and looked at me with fire in her eyes.
“What DID you almost do in my brand new car????”
Oopsie. But you know what? It was not as bad as it coulda been.
-John Cusack’s girlfriend.
If you missed my vlog a few weeks ago where a tell a story in which I wasn’t so lucky, check it out here.
I posted this yesterday, but not many people responded so I’m posting it again. I’m stubborn like that!!!
I’ve been thinking a little bit about the future of my blog. I’m close to 200 posts and will hit my 6 month bloggaversary in a few weeks, and I want to try something a little different. I have often been told that I have a story for pretty much every subject (that’s just my life) so I think in order to get me writing about things other than John Cusack, I would like to ask you to do a little blog assignment. I give you dear readers, the task of asking me any questions you want to know about little ole me (and I will answer with complete honesty unless you’re a dick) , stories you would like to hear extended versions of (My 100 things post might give you some ideas,) or any other subject matter that you would like to know my opinion on (or a poem about)…. and if I don’t have an opinion on the matter, I’ll get one!!! Just send an email to me at firstname.lastname@example.org, tweet me, or pop it off my comments. Thanks and I love you guys!
I also plan on doing a giveaway in the next few weeks, so keep your eyes open. I promise I won’t be giving away one of my decoupage art pieces. Unless you want one I could decoupage something of your request.