Standing on one leg

There are times when you have to go so bad, you don't care how filthy the bathroom is, or in the case of drunken men, whether or not there is even a toilet available when this wall or -urp- this bottle should do nicely.

I'm talking about number 1 of course, but allow me to digress a moment and talk about the big BM. I myself prefer whenever possible to only drop friends off at the lake in the comfort of my own home, greatly desiring a shower as soon as possible after peeling the black banana.

In the summer I would babysit for the very nice black family up the street and drop the kids off at the Y to go swimming





My friends seem to find this funny, I dunno. I'm just not walking around with an unclean feeling all day every time I drop a duece, blow mud, or feel the need to talk to a man about a horse.

But when you've gotta go real real bad, especially if you're a woman, you would walk into the Texas Chainsaw Massacre bathroom to do your business.

Such was the pee-dicament my lovely young friend from Boston found herself in last Thursday night. Drunk off her pretty little beantown at 3am in downtown Philadelphia she skipped into a 7-11 with the need to go like nobody's business.


The typical American convenience store, perhaps by you folks call it the WaWa, the Stop 'N Go, the Texas Star Investments Travel Stop and Country Store, or the Quik-E-Mart

Mister, will you buy us some beer?




Unfortunately the proprietor would have nothing of it.

But she is pretty, and she was drunk, and being pretty drunk she managed to persuade him to give her the keys to the castle.

3am, Philly, she's liable to find at least two vics in the can, a decapitated corpse, a wino, three needles and a used condom, and every measure of puke and human waste everywhere but in the bowl. Doesn't that tv show, what's it, on Sunday's, maybe CBS, you know that show with the cute blonde, yeah, Cold Case, Cold Case, that's right, that takes place in Philly. Shoot, man, those crimes never get solved until like 19 years later, damn.

But when you gotta go, you gotta go.

And pretty young thing (PYT) unlocks the downtown philly 7-11 unisex bathroom door and filled with apprehension and uneasiness but mostly Coronas she sees this:

The slippers seemed to indicate the presence of a darker spirit,
or perhaps someone whose feet were very cold at night






OK I'm walking out into my 7-11 at night in my slippers, it's so cool I own a 7-11, I'm a litlle buzzed, gonna grab me a bag of Do-Reet-Os, man I got the munchies, that Cold Case is one good show, I wonder what time the ---
damn I forgot it's 7-11 we're freakin' open all the time damn



The next day we got into a huge debate over the mysterious circumstances of the 7-11 in the city. Shag carpeting on the walls, floor, and entire toilet, including the tank. And the slippers, man, what about the slippers.

She was adamant that even in her advanced state of schwaystiness she saw upon close inspection that the entire shag job was hand-upholstered? fitted? stitched? and furthermore no company here or abroad even manufactured such preposterous fittings for a toilet tank.

And I assured her she was wrong.

So I googled it.

I sh*t you not, her birthday, like mine, is right around President's Day in February. I am definitely getting her this:

<-Insert joke about our economy

I bet those filthy Al-Queda bastards have been using a crapper like this in their underground caves for years





Gotta go. No, really.

No, I really have to go. Seriously.

Yes, NOW.


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