We have been kind of short on excitement around here so please bear with me as I share another special story, you may want to grab a box of napkins, and prepare yourself for warm fuzzies. If you find my stories boring or offensive please feel free to discontinue reading as I only write them for my personal gratification, and that of those who truly understand me.
The story I have chosen to share today is called:
THE OUTHOUSE
As many of you know I have the great misfortune of working in construction, and if anyone amongst you has ever worked in construction then you know that the job site rest facilities are not as elegant as that of an office building, or any other building for that matter.
These facilities usually consist of a simple porta potty made of moulded plastic panels riveted together, typically containing a urinal(with non consumable deodorizing mint), a non flushing toilet full of some blue liquid, one ply toilet paper dispenser(sometimes empty), and in the best of conditions a liquid hand sanitizer dispenser with apple scented sanitizer.
Naturally such a facility is vulnerable to any number of missuses, for example some users choose to tag the walls with graffiti, after all nothing says bad ass gangsta like a tag on an outhouse wall. Others write poems on the walls, some burn holes in the door with a lighter, I have seen where someone has had a blowout all over the seat (not pretty). Sometimes someone will put brown colored construction adhesive on the seat and it looks just like a turd, and everyone thinks its a real turd because it usually is. The list goes on and on, I too am guilty of mistreating the facilities as well, I like to throw rocks at it when someone enters, or shake it, or lock someone inside, especially someone I don't know.
Another thing that should be noted about porta pottys is that they should only be used as a last resort, meaning that if you can hold it, it would be in your best interest to do so. Any and all actions should be taken to avoid their use.
Well this particular experience occurred on a fateful day in March a few years back. I had been working on a house all day doing finish work, around 3:00 I realized that I had the immediate need to use the outhouse. Now without being too specific, when I use the word immediate what I mean to say is that if I did not find a porta potty within one minute I would have an immediate need to change my britches:-)
Off I went to use the nearest outhouse, luckily there was one directly across the street placed there specifically for our use. I carefully walked across the street with butt cheeks clenched. Ohhh.... I mean bum cheeks, sorry about the crude language. I quickly swung open the door, locked it behind me and opened the toilet seat, that's when I saw them.....two disgusting turds on the seat. How frustrating, what kind of a person would do this? Well at this point I had two choices I could either clean off the seat and promptly relieve myself, or go off in search of another facility. The choice was an easy one, I would run down the street to a house we had previously worked on and use their out house. It would be a close call but I had to do it I had no other choice.
The pressure was increasing with every passing second but I had to make it to the next house. As I rounded the corner there it was, standing there in all its glory , I had never been so happy to see that big orange shack as in that very moment. But wait, something was wrong, very wrong there was a group of people standing outside just feet away from the outhouse having a long conversation. There was no way on earth I was going to enter that thing with a group standing within hearing range, I knew those people, even worked for one of them, and the last thing I want them to be hearing is the sound of me in the porta potty, it could get noisy. I waited for a few seconds to see if they were leaving......no dice, there was no obvious sign of them leaving anytime soon.
I quickly turned around and headed back, I could take the truck to the gas station, no that's no good I would never make it. So I made the only logical decision, I would return to the first out house and clean off the toilet seat with a huge ball of toilet paper, and line the seat with more TP to avoid any possible contact with the foreign feces. As I neared the potty I new it was my only shot, time was ticking and I couldn't hold out much longer.
I entered the facility, locked the door and hesitantly (but quickly) grabbed a giant sized wad of TP reached out to clean it up. How humiliating and disgusting was this, I had to clean up some strangers excrement off of the toilet seat. My dry heaves nearly prevented me from doing anything, but I had to do it or face even more humiliating circumstances.
This was it, possibly the lowest point of my life. I stretched my hand out and very cautiously attempted to wipe off the offending material. It wasn't moving by normal means of cleanup, it was stuck, what had that person been eating? This made my dry heaves even more violent. I grabbed another larger ball of paper to prepare for a dirtier job and once again I attempted to wipe of the excrement. It wouldn't budge, I tried harder, and still it would not move, what was I going to do? At the moment when all seemed hopeless I quickly undid my pants, turned around and sat down right in the nick of time.
Well the two of you who read my blog know that I would never sit down on another persons feces, not under any circumstance, so why would that day be different? Two weeks earlier I was using some adhesive on a stair rail, this particular tube of adhesive had a color that looked just like real human waste. We thought it would be funny to squirt some on the toilet seat so others would think it was the real thing and be grossed out. I guess the joke was on me.
I learned a some valuable lessons from this experience. First if you need to go that bad, drive home. Second, adhesive, once stuck to plastic is nearly impossible to remove. And third, if you are going to be a jokester at least remember the tricks you try to pull on people because they may backfire.
Here's Me and Laura standing in the freezing cold patiently awaiting some inconsiderate couple to finish with their pics. so our group could have a turn on the stairs. (Not that being shuffled around by some crazy photographer is any better) By the way I'm not proud of this pic. of me but it was slim pickins in the photo gallery.
We finally took refuge from the cold in the visitors center.
My Dad quickly made himself at home and settled in for a good nap.
This pic. was taken when we were waiting for the Bride and Groom to return from whatever Brides and Grooms do after being married. We were so hungry, luckily my cousin Becky had some goldfish crackers and we dipped them in the honeybutter on the table, hey don't judge me!desperate times call for desperate measures. Would I do it again? Hell yes, even if I weren't hungry. Oh sorry I meant to say Heck yes, slip of the tongue.
Loading up the guns
Nice shootin Rommy, but why do you keep holding the gun sideways, are you sure you weren't in a gang?
Aiden bustin a cap with Dads 22, he is a pretty good shot. Why does that sign have legs?
Clint shooting a clay pigeon, Dad throwing, we are so old school.
Dad showing us how its done, he is a crazy good shot. I hope he wasn't mad when I out shot him.
Aiden looking for junk to shoot up, what would happen if I shot this gas tank?
These clay pigeons taste like clay chicken.