Who Does That???....

Okay, the things other people do. Sometimes totally off the wall and serious, then other time it's totally of the wall and a big joke. Case in point...

(Disclaimer: Before I start explaining the actions in this post... Be warned!! It's of a subject matter that most DO NOT discuss amongst one another.)

I am a person whom doesn't tolerate rich dairy laden foods. That's right people... I am lactose intolerant. BIG TIME!! I have an understanding and master plan for myself when I come into contact with the bowel wrenching type foods. It usually consists of, a.) Getting any consumer purchasing out of the way BEFORE going out to eat. b.) Eat in moderation. This understanding is the one that is hardest to control. c.) Getting home as quickly as possibly or finding a rarely travelled Tom Crapper device, Lew or in this day and age... Shitter. This plan usually works when I am alone. But tonight a friend was in town and took me to din din.

I am a shy one when explaining my bathroom habits. It's a personal thing and I'm sure that 60% of you really doesn't want to know about them. The other 40% are people I work with in my profession and have to deal with other human's feces on a daily basis. (God Bless all of you!! If I needed my ass wiped by anybody... It choose you guys over anybody. ((Lucky anybody))) I never thought I would ever get the courage to publically discuss this subject matter, especially people I plan to meet face to face again.

Back to Din din... I was given options on the locale of dining by my friend. Ruby Tuesday's..no, TGI Fridays..no, Chile's..no. Olive Garden.... YES! I hadn't eaten at Olive Garden in a while. I usually get the Fetticini Alfredo with Chicken. Not bad but is better at a local ristorante downtown. For a big boxed eatery such as Olive Garden.. okay. This time, I decided that instead of chicken I will substitute it with.... Italian Sausage. Okay... I break several personal rules on my "Creamy, Dairy laden Rule Book". Never add greasy to dairy. It compares to starting a BB gun fight with a 50 caliber then celebrating your victory with a Irish jig amongst the still smoldering carcasses of your former friends.

After the appetizer Zupa potato soup. (Again with the milk and sausage) and breadsticks came the main meal. A large bowl of Fetti noodles swathed with Alfredo and Italian Sausage. I can only finish half. Bloated and full we prepare to depart. Not 10 minutes after I stop eating (Mind you... I haven't left the building yet) I begin to purculate.. For those who have never enjoyed this fun filled experience.... "A Rumbly in the Tumbly" Lightning fast results. I have never had a meal pass so quickly thru my lowers in my life. Like a contracting expectant mother.

Anyways, slowly the urge subsides. My friend decides to look for a sweatshirt at Cabella's after dinner. I think quickly trying to remember where the sweatshirts are located in my mind so we can make a beeline to them then egress from there post haste. That didn't happen as quickly as I had hoped. By this time the rumbling begins and contractions start. I inform my friend that I need to find a restroom or I will never be allowed on the Cabella's premises for as long as I breathe with what might follow my delayed sit down.

Before I end my story, I am one who doesn't crap in public restrooms. That is a profession only over-the-road truckers do at seedy truck stops while talking amongst each other discussing road conditions to the east and west. I tend to be a "at home dumper" in the privacy of my own toidy.

Okay.. I enter the Cabella's Men's restroom and there stands a father with his two small children who happen to be finishing up. My panic meter rises ever so slightly. I pretend to have dirty hands so I take the time to soap lather them and slowly wash them as to not scar these two kids into a lifetime of mental therapy for the event that is impending. As they exit, I walk into the handicapped stall at the farthest end of the Men's shitter, glance over my shoulder to check if a quiet walker has entered unbeknownst, close the door glance forward at the bowel freeing seat only to discover the previous occupant's left a very large gift for the next bastard (ME!!!) half floating in the bottom of the bowl. The toilet was equipped with a "self flushing" sensor that obviously didn't think the bowl could swallow the behemoth.. thus leaving it for moi to discover and dispose of. Who The Hell Does That!!!!