LeeAndra
Sweet Shoppe SugarBabe
We need to make this a weekly thread. Reply with your funny story, too, mmkay? 
My funny story from the weekend goes a little something like this: BF was running the mini-marathon Saturday morning. It's in our hometown, so it was no big deal to get there, but parking would become an issue with literally tens of thousands people participating in this event. BF wants to leave by 5:30 (race starts at 7:30), but then he can't find the sandals he wants to wear postace and we spend 30 minutes looking for them. Poor guy's OCD really flares up when he loses things (which happens once a week or so), but he did finally decide it was okay to just let it go for now so he wouldn't miss the race completely.
So, we're in a rush. We drive downtown, get a space on the street (Score! No $5 parking for us!), and start walking towards the start line so he can get into his pre-assigned corral...
... and I realize I have to pee. Like real bad. Like I hope he's watching the Walk/Don't Walk signals as we cross a bunch of busy streets as all I can see in front of me is a big full throbbing bladder mocking my pain. Like I'm walking with a little bit of a limp on the side of my body where I think my bladder is if as if that will push my kidneys (are they close to the bladder?! *lol*) up into it like an organic cork so I can hold it just a little longer.
... and I realize I will have to use a Port-a-Potty. The amount of loathing I hold for your average mobile toilet is right up there with, say, chewing gum and Nascar (sorry, Sara & Mandy!).
... and THEN I realize I am a gov't employee and I can access the statehouse with my badge and use their very nice bathrooms. Oh, happy day.
The statehouse is completely empty, being a Saturday morning, so I beeline for the bathrooms with BF right behind. I point across the hall where the men's bathroom is, but he says, 'Why don't I just go in here with you? There's no one around.'
I shrug, and we both go into the ladies' room. He gets his racing number situated, his water bottle filled, etc. after I finish my business. I make sure to take a picture for posterity's case as I'm sure it's very rare for a man to find himself in the ladies' room in the statehouse.
As we're exiting the bathroom together, a group of 4 or 5 other runners just happen to be walking by. A couple of the ladies give me a weird look before they all head down another hallway. Before I can even turn to BF to ask him what that was all abt, he starts to laugh and says, 'It's not what it looks like! I promise!' as if he's talking to them.
... and I realize that, to them, it looks like BF and I stopped for a little marathon session of our own in the statehouse! *lol* Oh, I was so embarrassed for a few minutes until I could mentally flip through my photo album of all the gov't employees I know and knew that I didn't know any of them. BF thought it was HILARIOUS, of course. Once I got outside the building and had had time for my blush to fade, I conceded it was pretty funny, like a knock-off episode of 'Everybody Loves Raymond.'
Good times.
My funny story from the weekend goes a little something like this: BF was running the mini-marathon Saturday morning. It's in our hometown, so it was no big deal to get there, but parking would become an issue with literally tens of thousands people participating in this event. BF wants to leave by 5:30 (race starts at 7:30), but then he can't find the sandals he wants to wear postace and we spend 30 minutes looking for them. Poor guy's OCD really flares up when he loses things (which happens once a week or so), but he did finally decide it was okay to just let it go for now so he wouldn't miss the race completely.
So, we're in a rush. We drive downtown, get a space on the street (Score! No $5 parking for us!), and start walking towards the start line so he can get into his pre-assigned corral...
... and I realize I have to pee. Like real bad. Like I hope he's watching the Walk/Don't Walk signals as we cross a bunch of busy streets as all I can see in front of me is a big full throbbing bladder mocking my pain. Like I'm walking with a little bit of a limp on the side of my body where I think my bladder is if as if that will push my kidneys (are they close to the bladder?! *lol*) up into it like an organic cork so I can hold it just a little longer.
... and I realize I will have to use a Port-a-Potty. The amount of loathing I hold for your average mobile toilet is right up there with, say, chewing gum and Nascar (sorry, Sara & Mandy!).
... and THEN I realize I am a gov't employee and I can access the statehouse with my badge and use their very nice bathrooms. Oh, happy day.
The statehouse is completely empty, being a Saturday morning, so I beeline for the bathrooms with BF right behind. I point across the hall where the men's bathroom is, but he says, 'Why don't I just go in here with you? There's no one around.'
I shrug, and we both go into the ladies' room. He gets his racing number situated, his water bottle filled, etc. after I finish my business. I make sure to take a picture for posterity's case as I'm sure it's very rare for a man to find himself in the ladies' room in the statehouse.
As we're exiting the bathroom together, a group of 4 or 5 other runners just happen to be walking by. A couple of the ladies give me a weird look before they all head down another hallway. Before I can even turn to BF to ask him what that was all abt, he starts to laugh and says, 'It's not what it looks like! I promise!' as if he's talking to them.
... and I realize that, to them, it looks like BF and I stopped for a little marathon session of our own in the statehouse! *lol* Oh, I was so embarrassed for a few minutes until I could mentally flip through my photo album of all the gov't employees I know and knew that I didn't know any of them. BF thought it was HILARIOUS, of course. Once I got outside the building and had had time for my blush to fade, I conceded it was pretty funny, like a knock-off episode of 'Everybody Loves Raymond.'
Good times.
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