Now this story is not for the faint of heart. This journey to regularity sometimes includes dark dips into the depths of true pain and suffering. I can't say I am proud of this story or pleased to share it, but it is my obligation as the author of The Deuce Diaries to share the highs and the lows.
This is a story of a young man at a fraternity + sorority mixer. The venue: el Jardin, one of the sketchiest bars in Chicago. I believe it has since been shut down. First let me describe the bathrooms. Absolutely filthy bathrooms, with lockless swinging doors on the toilet stalls. Not an ideal deuce environment. But, I am feeling good this particular evening. Nothing to worry about. I can't remember what drinks I was ordering, but I know I wasn't drunk enough to be comfortable with what was about to happen.
I was dancing with a non-descript lady when the thunder hit. I excused myself and headed to the bathroom. That's when I realized what horror was in store for me. With one hand on the swinging door and the other hand on my pants to keep them off the pea-soaked ground, I let loose the deuce. Fortunately, my aim was adequate. Unfortunately, I discovered that there was no toilet paper. Not in that stall, not in the entire bathroom. No paper towels either! In case you didn't know, moist deuces are not ones to leave uncleaned. This was a true deuce-aster. Whether it was a stroke of genius, or an idiotic act of drunkenness, I came up with a plan. Close your eyes, kids. I did the scoop and wash routine. I used my hands to clean the filth downstairs and washed very carefully at the sink. Rinse and repeat.
The story continues with another el Jardin bathroom move before I discovered a small little restaurant across the street. I spent half of the social event alone in a stall across the street. I left that night with little dignity left, but the secret was mine alone until now. Moral of the story: 1) check for tp before you poopie (a cheesy rhyme). And if there's none, scoop and wash when you are done.
How to Enjoy the Deuce Diaries
Like a bad CSI episode, this blog will keep you guessing until the last minute. I will bring to you the past, present, and future of my bathroom emergencies. I encourage you to post your own stories, express your sympathies, or make suggestions to make my life better under the comments after any blog that moves you. If you are looking for the sheer entertainment of the truthful near-deuce (in pants) encounters, then read the "Deuce-aster stories." If you are looking to play the guess what's triggering the irritable bowel syndrome home game, read the "Daily Diet and Deuce Effects" posts which are labeled by date. In these posts, I will describe what I ate and what level of stress or nervousness I was dealing with. But like searching through a big dump after eating a few Chipotle burritos, you will find some kernels of goodness in these posts. This is because my life is a constant adventure. My stomach is like Mount Vesuvius, ready to explode at any moment and bring hell upon any day. Therefore, you just might find another entertaining story about the runs. And you may be Sherlock Holmes and find the way to stop this menace!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
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1 comment:
A friend of mine was at a bar toilet with no TP. He resorted to tearing the sleeve off of his undershirt and wiping with that.
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