I’m at the beach on a perfectly glorious and sparkly day. A day when the skies are blue, the water is clear, a slight breeze is blowing to keep the air comfortable as the bright sun warms my bathing suit clad body and…
I have to pee. I have to pee so badly that I’m doing the pee dance on the beach, which is covered with spring breakers who are open mouthed gaping at me. I have to pee so badly that I’m singing songs about peeing to my friend as she sits on the beach chair next to me trying to hide. I have to pee like I just drank a quart of vodka (because I did). Normally I would just go in the ocean to handle my urine dilemma but because it’s still early on in the beach season, I cannot. The water is the temperature of melting icicles. The water is so cold that even the kids aren’t in it. I am not freezing off my hoo-ha to pee with the fishes. Wait…
I’m in luck. Just behind on us on the beach is a local bar/restaurant. I can pee there. Yay, I can pee, I can pee, I can peeeeeeee. I grab my beach bag, make my friend rise from her hiding spot, and hobble over to the pee place because my legs are clenched as to prevent leakage. Up the stairs we go, through the bar, and head to the bathroom only to find…a pee line; a pee line with about 6 people waiting. Don’t these people know how badly I have to let loose? Apparently not because I’m now being told that there is one line for 2 toilets. I might have to squat right here and pee in the line. Wait, it’s moving a little bit so I’ll just keep on hopping from one foot to the other - In my bathing suit - In a bar. Standing here jiggling my wares, the line is inching closer to the actual potty place and I see that one of the bathrooms is designated shakers. Yes, it’s I exactly what I think it is. It’s the dude’s toilet room. We are sharing the shitters. I’m completely good with that. I’ll take a bucket, please and thank you. Just move this damn line. Please.
I’m the next person in line. I’m the next person in line. YIPPEEEE, I get to pee soon! At last, a woman is exiting from the shakers bathroom and I’m running toward the door and…bam. Some shaker is pushing his way passed me yelling “I’m glad I ain’t a girl” in what he thinks is a cutesy sing-song voice. Wait, what? What just happened? What in the actual fuck just happened? I’m looking at my friend because she is a big ole gun toting, scary bitch. She’s drunk. She’s got nothing. I have to handle this. I chase that dirty shaker right into the bathroom and scream directly into his shit eating grin wearing face that we are all waiting in this line for whichever bathroom opens next so we can squeeze out our business. This bitch is laughing, well not just laughing, drunk assed guffawing. I will sit my ass down on this toilet and pee right in front of this monkey-toed ass-wipe. Wait, he’s pushing the door shut with me on the outside. Shit, shit, shit. I lost. I’m just going to stand outside the bathroom door and taunt him the entire time he’s doing his thing and while he’s leaving the bathroom and now as he walks through the even longer line of wanna-be pee-ers. The pee-ers are clapping and yelling and calling him names. Solidarity amongst the bathroom crew is die-hard.
Shit. In all the excitement, I DIDN’T PEE. I’m standing here watching as some other shaker just went into my bathroom. He just walked right in there. The bathroom I had just
fought acted like a complete ass for is no longer mine. As a tiny bit of pee leaks into my bathing
suit bottom, I think to myself it sucks
to be a girl.
PPB aka The Precious Princess - The Princess is a twice divorced, recently dumped, recently unemployed, self-proclaimed member of the mentally hilarious. She has been referred to as living under a rock stocked with vodka and anger. Her 12 year old “Mini”, who is carbon copy of the Princess, is often the subject of blogs, and Facebook posts. In addition, she writes about dating, the dumbness of boys, life after 40, and shares stories from Bananaland which is both her past and current residence. She is the owner/sole admin for the Facebook page Precious Princess's Guide to Bananaland where she is famous for her rants and her blunt, honest, and sarcastic look at life. She blogs both extremely funny and all-the-feels posts at Princess Bananaland. She hates people, kids, and karaoke. She uses all the swears and makes up dirty words. Be afraid.
LMAO! Totally been there before at a concert once. My brand new lacy thong never made it to it's own show later that night because in my drunken freedom to pee spectacle, I also lost a few drops to take one for the team.
This made me have to pee. And there's a line... :) :)
I just purchased a GoGirl, female urination device. Now I can pee standing up. No shame in my game...every woman needs one. We go jeeping/camping and on some trips I have to hold it all day...and don't say, find a bush, because it is in the freaking desert. No bushes in the damn desert.
Girls do rule and shakers do fucking suck shit like it's their job.
Did you hear about Wrigley Field??? They have major construction going on, and yesterday, DURING A GAME, they had a bunch of bathrooms CLOSED so it took shakers HOURS of waiting in line to get to a trough to pee in. Some people said it took OVER AN HOUR. Fuck that shit. Fuck it hard right in the ass. I would have gone to a bar and stayed there. F U, Wrigley. Jackasses.
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