It Could Happen to Poo

Since Thanksgiving is nigh, I wanted to give everyone something to be thankful for and end my brief blogging hiatus.  I have many things to talk about, really. I just wrapped up an awesome play, and  apparently I have an ulcer or something, but who wants to hear about that when I can regale you with a harrowing tale from the HEB bathroom.

My body always betrays me when I go to HEB for some reason.  I will be leisurely strolling down the cereal aisle, trying to decide which sugary treat I most want to shove down my gullet when all of a sudden I feel it–a tightening in my bowels that signifies it’s time for a good ‘ole fashioned poo.  Yesterday it shouldn’t have been a problem.  It should have been an in and out situation.  For starters I didn’t have Truman with me, so I didn’t have to deal with having him in the stall with me while I was in flagrante poolicto.  Let me tell you, there is nothing more disheartening than making a fudge with an infant on your lap, and the wiping situation is shall we say, um, delicate. So, I was more than thankful that this was a solo outing.

I made my way to the bathroom, which of course was on the opposite end of the store and because I was as at the Old People’s HEB on Burnet,  it took me like fifteen minutes to get there as I was caught behind a million elderly shoppers trudging along at a glacial pace.   It wasn’t like I was shitting my pants or anything, but I was almost on the Highway to the Danger Zone. I get into the bathroom and I see that the first stall is occupied, so I bend over to check underneath the other stalls. All are full, including the handicap stall (by someone not handicapped-RUDE. JK) As I rear up from my stall inspection position I hit my head on the bottom corner of the fucking tampon machine.  So now I have a head wound AND I still have to poop.

Finally, after seemingly a decade of waiting (who knows how much time really lapsed, I lost all sense of time and space due to internal bleeding in my head), a woman emerges from the first stall.  As we cross bathroom paths and I go into her recently vacated stall, we give each other polite smiles.  It’s almost as if she is wishing me good luck on my chocolate journey.  It doesn’t take me long to find out that it actually a wicked, wicked smile filled with gleeful malice because when I finished my deed, I found that there was NOT EVEN THE SMALLEST SHRED OF TOILET PAPER LEFT ON THE ROLL.  OH THE HUMANITY!

Now, I am bathroom shy, I’m not a Chatty Cathy that likes to make small talk to strangers while they are doing their bidness.  My bathroom stall is a private place where I can just so happen to see other people’s feet.  So, I just couldn’t bring myself to ask the woman in the stall next to me to spare a square.  Besides, it looked like she was really into whatever she was doing in there.  She had an extremely aggressive and wide stance.  I didn’t want to bother her out of fear of being yelled at. I think we can all agree that no one wants to be yelled at when your pants are down around your ankles. Even if I had asked her to give me some toilet paper, it wouldn’t be enough to fit my extremely stringent anal hygiene standards.  My master plan was to sit it out and wait until everyone vacated the bathroom then waddle over to the other stall to pilfer it’s toilet paper.

So, I sit.  And I wait.  Then I wait some more.  10 hours later everyone eventually leaves.  I am about to make my super classy move, when another  stupid lady comes in.  It turns out she is an HEB employee on her break and plans to spend all of her free time hanging out in the bathroom dicking around on her phone.  I have now been in the bathroom for about 30 minutes now and I am growing increasingly despondent. Will I ever be free of this misery that is poo butt?!?  I briefly considered gingerly pulling up my pants and underwear and waiting it out in the cosmetics aisle, but my fear of skid marks held me back.  To cut an already unnecessarily long story short, I am not still sitting in the bathroom stall. I  was eventually able to shit shuffle into the adjacent stall and was able to wipe my ass to my heart’s content. As for my underpants, they remain untarnished.

Don’t you feel like a better person now after reading all that crap about crap? Don’t my pooventures rivet you?  I know I feel better sharing it with the world.  I feel like I removed a great weight off my chest and butt.  But for the record, my head still hurts.

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2 thoughts on “It Could Happen to Poo

  1. Leigh Ann says:

    Damn that woman for not alerting you to the lack of toilet paper! Where’s the girl camaraderie?

  2. […] Now, this is hands down one of my favorite posts.  Please read my harrowing tale from the HEB bathroom, It Could Happen to Poo. […]

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