The Continuing Story of Marcoda in the Bathroom

Because one bathroom related post a day just isn’t enough.

I swear, I really don’t like bathroom talk and I really am squeamish about the whole “nature calling” theme.

BUT(T)*

I just visited the restroom after my “official off the Taco Bell wagon” lunch and, oh…the horror.

Safely enclosed in the handicapable stall, I thank the godz no one is in the other stalls to hear my very unladylike gas escapades. Then the door opens and I hear wheels.

The Bathroom Supply Refiller Person.

ohgawdohgawdohgawdohgawdohgawdohgawdohgawdohgawdohgawdohgawd

Turns out, I’m way more freaked out by The Bathroom Supply Refiller Person being in the bathroom than a co-worker. As I desperatly tried to keep a firm grasp on my gas expulsion, my thoughts went roughly as follows:

“ohgawdohgawdohgawdohgawdohgawdohgawdohgawd”

“perhaps a lady like cough to let them know someone is in here.”

*delicate cough*

“must squeeze cheeks”

“squeeze tighter, damn you!”

“oh dear gawd. what if it’s a MALE Bathroom Supply Refiller Person.”

“please leave please leave please leave.”

“oh thank godz.” (hear wheels wheeling out)

“oh dear godz. was I just in the bathroom with the main door wide freaking open? I don’t think I heard the door close behind the Bathroom Supply Refiller Person when they first came in.”

“WAS it a male?”

“maybe I should’ve spoken up about the blood on the toilet in the first stall.”

*heh, heh.

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One Response

  1. thank god i just god done eating….girl you are too funny!

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