I Pee on Myself at least once a week

Yes, I do pee on myself, but on purpose!  It's not some weird sexy time thing or like an old person reaction to not getting to the bathroom on time.

The most recent way I peed on myself was while trying to squat at a Chipoltle bathroom and girls you understand that squatting is a VERY dangerous sport.

So there was already pee on the seat and I was trying to be fast because my friend was in line and I just didn't trust her, or anyone for that matter, to order a burrito of the caliber I need it to be.  I ain't paying $7 bucks for no corn salsa nonsense.  So I'm rushing, I see the pee on the seat and I say hey! I can squat this one out no biggie deals.

I go in for the kill and immediately realize I am peeing not only out of the bowl, but also down my pants and onto my shoes (only a little bit though).  I am also wearing large cuffed pants so there is a small amount of pee actually pooling in the damn cuff.

I stop the stream and take a seat, so now not only have I peed on my own pants but I am also sitting in someone else's pee.  As an OCD lady I was really freaking out.  This was just great, my pee on me, someone else's pee on me...grumble grumble grumble.  I get up dry myself off and dry to blot the pee on my pants.  Luckily I was not in such bad shape that I had to go home or anything and until my friend reads this blog she will not know this even happened.

Now for the majority of times I pee on myself it is mostly some combination of trying to squat or an unsafe stream caused by sitting back too far or something else.  It's usually just a little bit on the back of my pants or something that's easy to clean up, but I get so annoyed when I do this.  I often think to myself when I do this type of thing does this happen to other people?  Its got to!  But it probably doesn't...

I Blame Dukakis

So my bestie from grad school and I were out on the town one night in grand ol' Boston, the city of brotherly bros. I kept telling my newish bestie that I'm awkward and when I hit on men I tend to insult them. Well, maybe insult is too strong. I poke fun at them because everyone wants someone that can give them a hard time right? I think I would like someone that made fun of me right out the gate! ...hmm perhaps this is also a problem of mine.

Anyway, so I see this cutsey boots Harvard Business School looking dude. I know, judge away, but sometimes I like men that wear suits to bars. Being the amazing lady casanova that I am I take some time and think of a perfect line to lay on Mr. HBS that will have him swooning over my hot self in no time!

So I take my swagger over to the bar area and lay down this gem, "You know I think those eyebrows went out of style after Dukakis lost the election." (I was told lots of people don't know who Dukakis is so I will tell you.)

Michael Dukakis: was the democratic nominee in the 1988 election to George Bush. He has very bushy eyebrows and he is known for them. This dude did know who Dukakis is because he happened to be working for Duval Patrick, the governor of Massachusetts, where Dukakis was also governor at one time.

Yes, he had big eyebrows. I believe I followed that line up with something about caterpillar eyebrows, but I can't be sure. I took his silence as a need to further clarify how bushy I thought his eyebrows were, but I still thought he was cute...that was my point.

My bestie would not stop laughing at me and she did finally believe how awkward I become when it comes to hitting on guys. I tried to tell her and she's the one that left me alone in the bar to come up with pick up lines on my own. So really it's her fault.

UPDATE: Caterpillars ended up making out with someone who wasn't me. I know, you're shocked.

It's been a while

Naturally, it's been a while since my last post. I spent my summer teaching in Honduras and traveling in Central America a bit. I will be posting some antics from my trip soon so please stay tuned all three of my faithful readers!

Dating Tip #1: Always poop before your date.

I know it's been a while, but there's been a lot of changes in my life. I have moved to Boston for grad school and it's been a trip. I can blog more about those things at a later date. I have dated here and there since my move, but I went a first date just this last Friday and I learned a very important lesson: Always poop before your date.

I took a one week intensive class this last week and I got out of class about an hour before said date was supposed to begin. I'd known I had to poop for a while before class ended, but I surely thought I would have plenty of time to release the troops before this date. Well class ends at about 4:15 and the date is set to begin around 5. We had some great guest speaks and teachers who I wanted to speak to and wouldn't you know it the next time I looked at the clock it was 5!

I am late to everything in life and I do make an effort to not be the first person to show up, but I didn't want to be too late. For those of you that know me my poops are often unpredictable and I just can't sit down and expect everything to go smoothly and quickly. I opted just to go for being on time to the date and not dropping the kids off at the pool. (I'm seeing how many poop euphemisms I can squeeze in here).

We grabbed some hot cocoa and as the coffee shop was busy I suggested we "walk around" even though it was 30 some degrees outside...DUMB. We walked around for a while and it was delightfully awkward. I'm totally the type of person to talk about my poops so I had to keep that in along with the turtle heads dying to poke their heads out! Of course along with needing to poop comes needing to toot, but I didn't want to scare this poor young man so fast.

Well after two hours of nonsensical, awkward first date talking I was so cold I could no longer squeeze my butt together to hold in my toots and I had to poop like you wouldn't believe. On a side note the reason I didn't opt to get a drink inside somewhere was because than I wouldn't have an out and I didn't want to go in a bathroom while he was waiting because as I said...you just never know what kind of time you'll need to invest.

So two hours later I couldn't feel my toes and couldn't hold in my farts. I had to cut out. I made up some excuse about needing to get ready for a birthday party than asked him to "hug it out." Yes, those were my words that's why I put them in quotes. It is probably also why I'm single.

Follow Up: I got home and pooped and it was delightful. I do have a second date. I have no photo I was comfortable with sharing on this post.

Boobing the clergy

I have a secret for all three of my dedicated readers...NYC subways are crowded. Shhhh, come on let's keep this between friends. Even though I knew this little tidbit I am still constantly surprised when I get crammed into a small subway car on a weekday morning. Well this particular weekday morning must have been orchestrated by the Baby Jesus himself, because I have no other explanations for it.

A Thursday or two ago I was headed onto a cramped 1 train in the early morn' about 9:30 or so. I had a work party after work, so I had my lip gloss poppin' and my work-friendly slut gear on. As I enter the train I am sort of shoved on the train. This is not all that abnormal, but today I was pushed right into a dudes arm (as he held onto the subway bar) that happened to fall right below my breasts, so that they were quite literally perched on this poor guys arm. I looked around and tried to back up, but nothing, could not move anywhere. We gave each other an awkward, "yes, I know my boobs are 'on' your arm" look, but he was courteous enough to try move since I could not.

We were all finally able to adjust a little and he was able to hold onto the subway pole behind him, but I noticed as he turned around he has a "Princeton Theological Seminary," backpack on. Perfect! I looked at the sky and said God, it's me Jules, and I finally realize why I was given large breasts.

At least I can say that I finally blessed a priest, as I myself, have been blessed by them throughout my life. See God, I give back to the community too!

P.S. Once again I just googled "boobs priest" and this popped up, so I'm going with it.

St. Patrick, the Patron Saint of Drunk 22 year olds

So being unemployed can be inspiring. I would like to say it has inspired me to play bingo, learn a trade, or do something crafty. Instead it inspired me to celebrate St. Patrick's Day on the actual holiday.

Now this sounds very fun in theory. Goin' out, getting drizzunk, throwing small plastic cups at taxi cabs...

Well I bought a cheap ticket to this pub crawl on Groupon. The pub crawl was Friday night, Saturday, and St Pat's. I skipped Friday, but I had a group of friends going on Saturday. I got a gig last minute for Saturday, so by the time I met up with my friends they were wasted and I was never going to be as drunk as they were.

Due to my cheapness and the need to feel like I spent my money appropriately I decided to try and go to the Wednesday portion of said pub crawl.

I was the only one with a ticket for Wednesday, so I went by myself. I walked in to a super loud club-y bar known as "The Yard." I was really only interested in the $3 drafts (cheap in NYC mind you) only to find out that they were sold in glorified Dixie cups. Since I really only had the goal of being kinda drunk, these baby beers were not going to work. I paid $5 for some coronas, two to be exact, and then remembered that I was alone in a bar drinking.

So, I did what anyone alone at a bar drinking would do...I went into the bathroom and chugged my beers so I could leave immediately and not have to talk to anyone dressed like a Marine (well, to be fair they were probably real Marines, but I didn't want to talk to them nonetheless). After leaving the bathroom with an underwhelming buzz I made my way through the crowd of wasted 20 year olds making out with each other and dry humping on the dance floor. It was only 8pm. I don't think I've ever felt more old in my whole life. All I could think about was the fact that I had just been accepted to a great grad school and I was watching people in Celtics jerseys do it on the dance floor. I knew that I would not make it out of this bar with any dignity, so I decided to wait for my friends outside.

After craftily dodging the drunk creepy men at The Yard I met up with some friends and proceeded to have a pretty good time. Thank God I can sleep until 1pm the next day! Being unemployed can sometimes be a hard job.

Does One Have to be Crazy to Be Creative?

So I was doing some research for fun on good ol' JD Salinger. I am cliche and he is a very favorite of mine. I can't tell you what Franny and Zooey does for me and reading Teddy gives me an indescribable feeling like no other piece of literature can. That being said after doing some reading on Mr. Salinger I have realized that he was kind of bat shit crazy.

To those of you that know even the slightest bit about him this is of no surprise as he is a known recluse who hasn't been seen in many many years. However the extent of his reclusiveness and case of the Madonnas (as he switches religions as she switches personas) was unknown to me up until now. He forced his second wife to stay in their home and really cut her off from her family. His daughter wrote a memoir about him that wasn't too pleasant and I believe he even sued to have it stopped being published. At any rate why is it that the most creative minds are the CRAZIEST?

I am a little crazy and I'm okay with admitting it. I am OCD and fairly ADD (apparently they only diagnose ADHD anymore, but I don't think I'm all that hyperactive so I will stick with old school, because no one really reads this anyway). I have anxiety, however, I function well in society and am pretty good at hiding my crazies or making them endearing enough for people to love! (I like to tell myself anyway). So that being said I like to think I'm also mildly creative, but that might be up for debate. Some of the most creative people I know are the most unstable. I'm not sure why these things are so closely related. As so many of us long for the ability to write lyrics like Elliott Smith or write verse like Poe or write amazingly beautiful stream of consciousness like Salinger would you take it if it came with such crazy consequences?

I'm not sure that I would as I have enough crazy on my own and as much as I revere those particular men they probably do not revere themselves. I'm okay with being completely mediocre if it comes with some sanity and ability to cope with day to day life. Perhaps some of you would disagree, but I wish great talent could come without all of the baggage. Misery certainly does breed creativity though.