It’s NOT Bigger on the Inside

I cannot tell you the absolute disappointment I faced after this purchase. This is not fully functioning. It’s not even partially functioning. No Doctor. No time travel. Definitely not bigger on the inside. False advertising if you ask me. I’ll have you know that I sent it back post-haste with a very, very sternly worded letter.  I mean, what the hell, people!? I don’t care if it was on sale.  Is there no truth in advertising any more?

 

Exit… Stage Left

So. According to my daughter, my writing has never been a paragon of dignity. Okay, I’ll give her that one. After all, she’s not wrong.

With that said, thanks to my children (yes, I’m blaming my kids), my ability to hold back my…  ummm… oh, who cares, I’ll just say it. My ability to hold back my pee is nearly nonexistent. When I have to go, I have to go. And my body, being the asshole that it is, when it senses I’m near a bathroom, it upgrades the urinary crisis to a breaking point. Why is that? Does anyone else experience that? The closer you get to a bathroom, the more urgent the need becomes, to the point of … hey, I’m right here, but I still might not make it?

Sometimes, I tempt fate and wait almost too long to start the trek to the restroom. Who has time for constant bathroom breaks? I don’t. I’ve got better things to do. I’d put an end to bodily functions altogether, if it were up to me. And why do they call it a restroom, anyway? It’s not like we take a nap in there. I mean, I wish!

Anyway, I was at work today and threw caution to the wind in order to finish the marketing project I was working on. Oh, I made it, but barely.

And as I headed back to my office, once again unencumbered, however so briefly, by a needful bladder, I got to thinking.  What happens if that fateful day should arrive when I don’t make it in time?  Well, I’ll tell you, and this I know for certain.

I will go to my office, grab my coat, and without a backward glance or a word to anyone, I will simply walk out, never to return.  I will head East (or North, or West, or South… I don’t know, I’m geographically challenged, people!) until I can go no further. I will take a new name, put down roots in a new town, with a new job, and new people who will never, ever know of “the incident” that plagues my past.

They might speak of me around my “old” office, after I’m gone. But in the context of “that crazy woman in marketing who just up and walked out one day,” and NOT “the woman in the corner office who peed herself last Wednesday.”

I’m good with crazy. Oh yes. Definitely, crazy.

Calling Dibs… Feline Style

Don’t ever let it be said that I won’t share… and when my cat sticks her face down into my glass of bubbly carbonated fruit juice, I’m like, eh, whatever, have at it. But to then have the audacity to SNEEZE in my drink!?

Oh sure, the bubbles got up your nose, so you say, but I’m sorry, that’s simply taking it one step too far. Back in the day, I used to lick the Oreos so my brother wouldn’t eat them… I know what you’re doing here, my feline friend.

don’t be fooled, cats understand boundaries perfectly well… they just don’t care.