Wednesday, January 27, 2016

A Truly Childish Story

This story is quite childish.  Maybe by the telling, I'll lose even more subscribers (I've lost 15 this month.)  But, oh well.

The story begins Monday night, when I made Tacos for dinner.  Ortega ones- the type where you buy the kit and make them at home which I do because I have Zero cooking talent.

Anyway, the next day- Tuesday (yesterday), I worked 9-5.  I spent the first half hour alone at register, which means I can't leave.  After that, I went to Customer service, where I answered the phone and helped customers find books, etc.

We weren't what I would call busy, but it was steady.  Every time I'd take someone to their book and come back, someone else would be waiting.  And most of these people were elderly, which means they tend to be high maintenance, which is fine.  My job is to make them happy, and I do my job well.  But that means they take time.  And there was always someone waiting.

Now, while I was at register, I started to feel the need to go to the ladies room, but I couldn't go, as I was on register.

Then there was one customer after the other: no chance to break away.  And as we were, as always, understaffed, I couldn't really call for help.  Everyone else was also busy.

Mature and Refined Woman

An hour went by.  Two.

Remember, I had tacos for dinner the night before.  There's no really nice way to say this: gas was building up, and was beginning to hurt.  As a mature adult, and a woman, I do my best not to demonstrate bodily functions in public.  (I have no problem doing it at home, much to Linda's disgust.)

Just ask her!

However, it was quickly becoming a crisis situation.  Thankfully, I finally finished with a customer, and had no one waiting.  I all but sprinted to the ladies room.  I was quite happy to find it empty (I don't like public restrooms, as the sound of males and females relieving themselves IS different, and I prefer not to, um, give any clue as to my unfortunate birth gender.)

Now, the restrooms at the bookstore share a common wall.  On the ladies side of that wall are the four stalls, and on the men's room side are two stalls and two urinals.  Occasionally, one can hear something through the walls, like a muffled toilet flush.

I'll bet you can see where this is going, right dear reader?

So I sit in the stall and, well... I can't quite call it breaking wind, as that's too delicate.  No, this was a low class wall rumbling good old fashioned Fart.

And I felt So much better.

That's when I heard it- on the other side of the wall, I could hear a guy laughing his ass off!

I mean, imagine hearing THAT coming from the ladies room!

I blushed briefly and started giggling myself.  I then finished my business, washed my hands, etc, and prepared to leave the ladies room.  I wondered if the guy would be waiting outside to give me applause or something.

But there was no one waiting, and I resumed my duty station, relieved.

Yes, I have a juvenile sense of humor.


Wife and I had lunch together today (I'm off work), and as I drove her back to work, I related this story.  Before the story ended, her glasses were off, and she was laughing so hard she was crying.  Seriously.

And you wonder why I married her?  ;)

This story is SO immature!

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