Public Bathrooms and why I hate them

Written September 2009
Published July 2011


Never again. Public bathrooms have made it obvious that they don't want me in there. I don't like them, they don't like me. Please allow me to explain why given last Tuesday's events. 

So I jet in there past the woman changing her baby, and the stall that has a small child on all fours poking his head out from under the door. and having just enough time to be grossed out that somebody is letting their child play on the bathroom floor, I reach an empty stall. . only to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, by this point I'm committed. The dispenser for the santa covers is handy, but empty. I would hang my purse on the door hook, if there was one, but in place of a hook is a pleasant 2 inch wide hole. . . Like my toilet is so exclusive I have to screen the next occupant via the convenient peep hole. . .


"Answer me these questions 3. . . "


"Speak friend and enter.."


"If you've got me you want to share me. If you share me you haven't got me. What am I?"


(I had a lot more of those. But I digress)

Of course setting my fancy purse on the bathroom floor is no pinche bueno. So in lieu of hanging it from the designated purse holder, I just drape it around my neck. And I am woman so I can't have a little wallet purse. Oh no, I gotta have that huge fuck-off bag from mary poppins that has lamps and chandeliers and . . .I dunno. . bricks apparently. 

 I'd love to sit down, but I certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so I hold the squat not realizing what a work out squatting my ten pound bag in heels is. To take my mind off my aching neck, I reach for what I discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.  all I can think is "I bet the janitor that works here thinks he's hilarious. . . yuck it up you custodial bastard"   I don't have a whole lot of time to be upset before someone pushes my door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits me square in the face which is no good for a few reasons.

1- I just got slamdanced in the face with a metal door. Um.  ouch.

2- people gotta leave the stall to wash their hands, hence all those wonderful germs I've been avoiding putting on my ass are now on my face.

3-in a fluster to not expose my reproductive system to the other lovely bathroom occupants (which seems to be the entire Portland metro population) I lost my footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. Which is wet of course. I bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. My bare skin has made direct contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because I never laid down toilet paper-not that there was any, even if I had taken time to try.

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet thinks it time to flush. And I get the one confused toilet that thinks it's a bidet, propelling a stream of tainted water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that shoots out and hits me.

At this point, I give up there's nothing left to wipe with but the last tiny bits of toilet paper left on the rounder. And I'm way too embarrassed to ask the stall next to me to spare a square seeing as how she probably thinks I'm insane based on all the noises and random cursing coming from my side of the wall. Wash my hands (and face) and I'm out.  Well played public bathroom. you win this round. 

The Story of your Birth. As Remembered by Aunt April.

It was fourth of July weekend 2011. I was out camping with your Uncle Ty and his family at their annual camping trip in Sunriver.  It had been a lot of fun so far. I had just won a horseshoe tournament.  Your mommy and daddy decided they wanted to come out too. They were thinking it would be the last camping trip they would have until you both were old enough to go with them. And boy were they right. After floating the river on Sunday afternoon. (where your mommy looked awesome stuck in an intertube) we settled down for dinner, played some campfire games and went to bed. Early the next morning, mommy had to go the bathroom, but when she got up she noticed her pants were wet. Now, Mommy had been housebroken for quite some time, so that really could only mean one thing: you guys wanted out.

As calmly as she could, Mommy told your daddy that he needed to wake up. 

"Adam, I need to you to wake up and listen"

"hmmmmm?"

"I think my water just broke"

Now this information was quite a shock to Daddy. He was not expecting your arrival for another month at least. 

"You're shittin me!!!"

Before Daddy really thought about what he was doing he was copin a feel to confirm what he had just heard

"ew"

"I told you."

"Im gonna go get Debbie"

Now your Daddy will say he was calm as a cucumber going through the camp trying to get things ready and telling people, but it was really a lot like this.

And a little summa this:





 Just kidding with that last one. Your dad wishes he has that kind of rhythm, but it was intense none the less. So daddy drove mommy to the hospital, and by the time they got there everybody daddy had ever met knew that you guys were on your way into the world.
     14 hours and no babies later the doctor told all of us patient visitors to go home, you both were content with where you were for the night. So Aunt Lily, Ella, Tyler, me, and Nana Debbie all went back to our hotels for the night. Little did I know you two were in cahoots to play a big practical joke on us all. I got a text from your dad 30 minutes after we left while I was in the shower.

"911 go time!!!!! We're going back to OR, came in the last five minutes"

"Not funny"

"Dead serious. No lie"

And this is when your Aunt April fell out of the shower and almost hit her head on a toilet. It's a good thing we were on our way to the hospital anyways.  Nana and I made it just in time to push our faces up against a 1 by 1 ft glass window to see Brynn  for the first time. and Tyler was shortly after. I will never forget the grin on your daddy's face as he walked by and gave a double thumbs up to us onlookers.

And that's the story of your birth.

There now for some advice

Brynn,
Always dress appropriately for your age. Nothing is more sad than seeing a 12 year old who thinks she 25.  or vice versa.

Don't be one of those girls who is obsessed with any of the following things: horses, cats. softball, or church camp. They always turn out weird. I don't know why, but its a proven fact.

If that hair on your shoulders doesn't fall off like everybody says it will you can always count on your Aunt April for a razor and to keep a secret.

Always remember that your brother has been a gentleman from the very beginning. He let you go first. Brothers are protectors. He wont like your first boyfriend. or your second. or your sixth. It's okay to give him a hard time for it, but appreciate that he cares.


Tyler,
pranking your parents is hilarious. always. just don't get caught.


I know its a stage every little boy goes through, but try not to be one of those toddlers that cant help but play with themselves 24/7.  It won't fall off if you let it go, I promise.

pranking your Aunt is never funny. ever.

I don't care what you choose for your major in college, but don't be a duck

Cherish your sister. It might be hard sometimes (she is going to be stubborn. I can tell).  but you only have 1.


I love you both. 

Viral Video Week

This was the posting for the last week of june, but I never got around to posting it until now. I absolutely love lol cats and walk in the wild side (which is a show on BBC).

Enjoy viral video week.

April Gets Taught a Lesson in Sportsmanship (Or Alternately Titled) Cameron’s Big Mistake

Ah, yes. The sun is shining, the breeze is barley whispering through the high dessert that is Central Oregon. I find myself somewhere I haven’t had the pleasure of  going for the past 3 years: The Inman Family camping trip in Sunriver over the fourth of July. The setting is just right for me to make a fool out of myself. Here’s a quick hierarchy I threw together to explain the people I hang out with the most.

Bill----------------------------------Debbie

                ______|__________________

             |                                               |

Steve---------Rachel Tyler

_______|____________

|             |            |        |

Jacey     Macey    Zac   Cameron

Ignore misspelled names there. I am not so hot with the spellin. And ignore the poor formatting. It’s the best I could do. And ignore the fact the I left out a lot of people. Infact you should probably just ignore the whole thing. The only person that needed explaining was Cameron: Tyler’s nephew. Every year on this camping trip there is a Horseshoe tournament for grandchildren and their grandparents. Of course anybody can really play as the grandparent if a child asks them, because there is usually a shortage of grandparents to go around for all the grandchildren.  Now, who has two thumbs and can’t throw a decent shoe if her life depended on it: this girl. Who is a sixth grade boy and doesn’t care if I suck or not he just wants a girl who isn’t his grandma on his team: Cameron.  Of course when he asked me I had to think about it....

“Family bonding and whatnot aside, horseshoes is such a dumb game when you think about it. Who’s idea was it to throw 2 lbs of oddly shaped iron 45 feet  across a lawn in an attempt not only to have it land in a 3 by 3 ft clay pit but also get it around a 18 inch post sticking out of it’s center?  Do you have any idea how much those things bounce on the cement when you don’t make them in the pit?!? I do! And it’s a lot. On top of that the child that I am playing against and my 11 year old partner are standing on the opposite side of the pit directly were my rogue shoes are careening towards. This is such a bad idea in so many ways, but how can I say no? “

“Sure Cameron. I’ll be your partner, but I want to go practice tonight so you can see how bad I am at this game. If you still want to be my partner after that then I will happily be your grandma for the day” 

Flash forward to the next morning. 8 am. I give Cameron one last chance to change his mind. I jokingly remind him of the previous night's practice run and how upsetting it was.  Doesn’t matter. He’s set on me being his partner. . . Deep breath. . .I start getting my apologies ready for every old person I piss off either because I have given their offspring a concussion or because I have no idea what the official rules of horseshoes are.  And these people mean business. They have gloves for better grips, horseshoes that are personalized, hook-thingys so they don’t have to bend down to get their shoes, visors, a snazzy name tag, and comfortable arch supporting shoes complete the look= 98% of the adults in this tournament. Pan to me. I have worn the only closed-toe shoes I brought camping: My bright silver Ed Hardy sneakers with aluminum foiled skull and crossbones across the sides. A blue tanktop that given photo evidence later on was much more low cut than I thought, and jeans that are rolled up to mid calf. No hook-thingy, no gloves, borrowed horseshoes, and a please-God-don’t-let-this-end-in-fistycuffs-with-a-seventy-year-old kind of attitude. 

“Everybody please remove your hat for the Pledge of Allegiance”

“Holy crap. I don’t think I remember all the words to the pledge of Allegiance. Is there no part of this tournament I’m going to be good at?!  I have got to be the worst patriot ever. Im pretty sure they linch you in Texas for this. It’s been since what? sixth grade that I have actually had to recite it. Can we do the National Anthem instead? I go to baseball games an stuff. I know that one.  Fuck it. If I don’t know a part of it I am just going to mouth watermelon over and over again. “

........under God, with synergy and watermelon for all”. . . . Play ball. 

Game 1- April throws a ringer!!! Tyler mock faints at the sight. Cameron makes all the  other points. We miraculously win.

Game 2- Morale is high. Cameron does very well. Elderly gentleman who is my   opponent named Buck is less than enthused with my skills “What you need to do is just release the shoe a little higher so you’re not bulleting it towards the pit” A hard loss for us. 

Game 3- Morale is okay. Cameron does very well. Tyler comes up to me with a smart ass comment “Hey why don’t you try this time?” Elderly gentleman that is my opponent known as three dog hears this and says “hey tyler, is this your daughter Im playing against?”. I errupt in laughter. Tyler leaves. Three dog leans in “that oughta shut him up”. Post game (which we lost) Tyler, “I always knew that three dog was a son of a bitch.” I also got a solid piece of advice from three dog. Apparently I was releasing the shoe a little early. What I wanted to do was hold onto it just a little longer so I wasn’t scaring the children. 

Game 4- Morale is so-so. Cameron throws an amazing game. My lady opponent, Dorothy, helps me out with my form. What I want to do is pretend the pole is a three gallon bucket and im tossing a softball into it. So hold onto the shoe a little longer. She doesn’t want to have to replace the divots I am making in the ground. 

. . . You watch yourself, Dorothy. 

Game 5- Morale is a word I no longer care about. Its been replaced with repressing very dark thoughts, and keeping a smile on my face as my new opponent, Pete, tells me he thinks my game would improve immensely if I kept ahold of the horse shoe until my arm was parallel to the ground. Fine!! So my next turn comes up and I do my best to hold on to the shoe as long as possible. 20 feet straight up in the air; this shoe had wings. The shoe plummeted back to the ground and stuck like a dart a good 10 feet from the pit. I look to my left. Tyler has fallen to the ground rolling with laughter. Cameron is starring at me wide eyed in disbelief that anybody my age could be so bad. And Pete calmly walks up to me and tells me that maybe that was a little to long to hold on to the shoe. . . Thanks Pete!!

Silver lining! We didn’t come in last. Or even second to last! We came in a solid third to last, thanks to Cameron’s skill. I was happy to be his stand-in Grandma, but please for safety-sake, ask your nana next year.