Yes yes I know, this may be the most tasteless blog I've written. But I figure, who am I kidding? I'm not writing The Grapes of Wrath here, and I have the rest of my life to be buttoned-up and old. I promise, I'll try to use as much innuendo and as many puns as possible. And if you still don't like it, well, I'm allowed to have a miss every now and then. And if you are REALLY offended, well...you prob don't get me.
So you with me? Let's begin.
Despite the fact that I'm not a fan of camping, bugs, or not showering every day, I still don't consider myself a girly-girl. I'm clueless with fashion, I don't have to get my nails and hair done every month, and with a few exceptions I have a small tolerance for chick flicks. However, when I've had to go, I'm not above doing it in the woods, behind a dumpster, or even off a building (yes, a building). And any of these times were done so out of absolute necessity. Allow me to explain...
One time my sister, cousin, and a few others I think were tailgating at PNC Bank Arts Center in Jersey for a concert. We ended up parking WAY beyond the center, pulled out some beers and chairs and began getting hyped for the show. After a few we realized we had to go desperately. Of course, the nearest Port-O-Potty was a good distance away; the woods however was only a few yards. So there we were, armed with a red cup and a person standing keeping watch. Not my classiest moment, but I can tell you I felt a helluvalot better. It was also the first time I really felt a break in the chain of being a "girl". Usually guys have the upper-hand (pun intended?) in peeing outside, but we proved it can be done.
The next time was on a return trip from dancing at the gay bar in D.C. My friends Lauren, Erica, Mike, and I huddled back into the car and began trying to figure out our way back. As luck would have it we realized we were getting lost. Meanwhile, I felt nature calling and it was not leaving a message. We pulled off into a gas station to gain our bearings, and I hopped out looking for the bathroom. We seemed to have found the only NON 24 hour gas station that exists, and after spending as many seconds I could finding the bathroom I ended up crouching behind the dumpster. Did I feel like total white-trash? Certainly. Did I feel better? Hell YEAH!
Finally, my proudest/most shameful experience was on the Fourth of July last year. Joe's friends were hosting a little barbecue on the roof of a building downtown. It was kind of a pain in the ass getting up there, but it was well worth it. We had a gorgeous view of the city, burgers on the grill, and of course, beer. After only a couple I started feeling the urge and began looking around for a solution. I could try getting down and going all the way through to the nearest bathroom (but if getting up there was scary, trying to get back down--with a small buzz going--seemed a little too treacherous). His friend suggested I just go ahead and pee over the side of the building since it overlooked an alley. At first I refused. But as the minutes, and urine, mounted I started getting desperate. To make a gross story short, I did what I had to do. And even though I might have lost a little self-respect, I saved myself from a dangerous climb down, as well as further damage to my kidneys.
It's not really fair that guys can go anywhere at anytime. Girls have just as many urges and we sometimes need to go wherever is most convenient too. Hopefully these tales will allow we girls to urinate united. And for anyone that wants to judge, let she who has not peed in a place other than a cushy bathroom cast the first roll of t.p.
No comments:
Post a Comment