Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Huge F-ing Dilemma - The Second Part.

The First Part is Here.

Okay folks,

I have been appropriately chastised for not timely posting what happened with the poop situation. By all means, if you want to join in chastising me, feel free to leave me a comment, e-mail or instant message me throughout the work day. I like it. A whole hell of a lot. However, in an effort to avoid further rebuke I am here at 11:30 at night writing a story about a girl that poops in others’ houses and freely deposits the paper with which she wipes her anus in my trash can.

Before we begin - you should know two things. First, I fell asleep watching Studio 60 a bit ago and woke back up, so I am a little tired and a bit out of it. Second, I am drinking a nice warm cup of coffee while listening to August and Everything After, the Counting Crows debut album from 1994. At this very moment Rain King is playing. I don’t know what 1994 was for you, but for me it was a pretty fucking fantastic year. I was 18 and starting college, and August and Everything After, along with Pearl Jam’s Vs., were the soundtrack to that year.

"What is the fucking point?" you ask. Well, there is none. I just wanted to let you know what I am doing at this moment. It is helping us bond, and become best friends forever (BFF). Now we can e-mail each other about our hopes and dreams. We can intimately discuss who you have a crush on, or whether George should be with Callie. When you are lonely late at night you can call me and we can discuss whether Ingrid Bergman should have gotten on that plane or stayed with Humphrey Bogart. I am pouring my heart out here people. Show a little appreciation.

Without further ado, here is how the evening went down:

Near 7:00 o’clock on Friday evening, Jason, Susan and Jamie show up at my place. Prior to their arrival your hero surreptitiously removed the trash can from the bathroom. Let me set the scene a little. My house is a little large for me. At last count it is a 3000 square feet, four bedroom, 2 and a half bath, recently constructed suburban home. (Note: the size of my house has nothing to do with the story, I just wanted to make you New York City folks a little envious.) Anyway, my living room is downstairs. If you go down the hallway a bit from the living room I have a half bathroom, which guests tend to use. There are no cabinets within the half bath, only a commode (I like that word) and a sink. Further down the hallway is the door to my bedroom. If you go through my bedroom, another door leads to my bathroom. Inside my bathroom is another commode, and this one is enclosed in a small little room. I call it the pee room.

So the plan was to watch a couple of episodes of Extras, and drink like mad cows. About a half hour into the evening Jamie decides she has to go. So I try to keep my eye on the bathroom door so I can enter as soon as she leaves. I try to hang just outside of the door because I was a little overzealous and obsessed with what was happening in there. I would estimate she was in there the normal time it takes a girl to expel urine from her body. However, there was no flush. The door opened and out she came.

I gave her a little nod, and then went in like I was waiting for the bathroom. The water in the toilet was calm, and didn’t look as if it was in a post-flush refill. The sink was dry, so I know no hand washing occurred. The point is, she didn’t go. I did a little look around to make sure there was nothing stashed anywhere, but there was not. I don’t know what there is to do in a bathroom besides piss and shit, but maybe she was doing some girl-thing in there. I don’t know. But I know she didn’t urinate.

Okay, now lets fast forward to Garrett at five beers later. I saw Jamie go down the hallway to the bathroom a few times, but at those particular moments in time, I did not care about what she was doing with her vagina-wiping paper. My only thought was to consume more alcoholic beverage. Which I did with abandon and vigor.

To make a long story short, I had sex with Jamie. It was amazing, and a little magical. I cannot even describe it as “sex.” It was “making love.” I love her with a passion that I cannot describe in words.

Are you fucking kidding me? I did not have sex with the poop girl. I did discover something though, after my little friends were gone.

As soon as they left I went down through my bedroom door (which was closed before, but now open) and through my bathroom door (which was closed before, but now open) and into the Pee Room (which was closed before, but - well it was still closed). As I stood there and urinated in a drunken stupor I looked down at the trash can to discover several wadded, balls of urine-soaked toilet paper. “Well, fuck me!” I believe were my exact words.

She fucking switched bathrooms on me. I am astounded. Dumbfounded, you might say.

So that is it. This girl so feels the need to deposit her excrement wiping substances into something other than the toilet that she has to change bathrooms to find one with a trash can. I no longer think it has to do with being a farm-girl or with plumbing in any way. I think she must have some kind of weird psychological ailment or sick fetish. Maybe it is like when animals mark their territory, and if I went to her apartment I would see a Shrine to Garrett. She comes to my house so she can deposit pee to mark my house as hers, and every night she writes in her pink diary, "I am one step closer to becoming Mrs. Garrett Reid. Mrs. Garrett Reid. Mrs. Garrett Reid."

So what do you think of that?


Kristin said...

Now I think she's just fucking with you... either that or she needs therapy. Then again, she knows you so she qualifies for the latter anyways...

Try again, but remove all trash cans from all facilities?

A Lover and a Fighter said...

Who are george and callie, you homo?

Anne said...

Okay. Its really bothering me know. I agree she has some kind of compulsive disorder. I dont know how she kept from going that first time. My body knows when I have shut the bathroom door and it gives me about 10 seconds until the pee starts...there is no way that I would be able to hold off in search of potty with a can. No way.

I say dont invite this chick back over ever. She is gross. I wonder what other disgusting quirky habits she has that you dont know about?

TK said...

That's fucked up. Seriously fucked up. Anne is right - she can't come over anymore. Unless... as Kristin said, you remove the trash cans from EVERY bathroom! And the kitchen, just to be safe. Dammit, I want there to be some sort of confrontation where the truth comes out. And since you're obviously not going to just ask her, you need to take drastic measures to satisfy our strange and prurient curiosities.

And L & F - why call him names? Can't the man just live his gay life in peace, without fear of insults from 'phobes like you? People like you make bunnies cry.

New Texan said...

I think you have to have her over again, but this time have no place for her to toss toilet paper. Of course the downside is that you may end up moving a wall-hung picture at some point and find balls of wadded up TP then.

On a side bar...

Great reference to the Counting Crows album... it remains one of my favorite CDs of all time. I was in grad school at the time, and we wore that thing out in the computer lab.

3000 sq foot house? Don't you just love Texas? We bought a 4000 sq foot house in Plano last May for the same price we sold a 900 sq foot condo in Queens.

A Lover and a Fighter said...

TK- Don't assume homo is derogatory! I tease because I love. I did, however, have to google George and Callie. I thought it was some reference to Georgian literature that I didn't know. I feel kind of stupid now.

I think this girl might be an evil genius. I bet she has a blog somewhere and is like "You GUYS. This is going so well! Next I'm going to shit in his shower! And wipe my ass with sandpaper, just to keep him guessing!"

Garrett Reid said...

Kristin: I don't think she is fucking with me, but women are always fucking with me and I never know it- so maybe she is.

L&F: I do not believe for one second that you don't know who George and Callie are. And, by the way, I almost deleted your comment because I was so offended by the slang term "homo." You know I have a zero tolerance policy on this blog for offensive behavior. However, I let it slide because I thought, I'm not a homo - and I don't care if you call me that - as long as you don't call real homos homos.

Anne: Do you start to dance up and down if you don't make it by 10 seconds? I think I am done with Jamie. I don't want to risk anything really, really nasty.

TK said...

Hell, I didn't know who George and Callie are either.

Jesus, 3000 square feet? By yourself? What do you do for fun, run laps around the damn place? Fucking Texas.

Don't wimp out Garrett - have her back over. This girl must learn proper pee-pee technique (God, did I just type that?) and you are the man for the job. Buck up and stop being such a homo.

Punky said...

There is NO way this is a country girl thing...now, not to point out the obvious, but you should have removed the trash cans from both bathrooms...but still, I relayed this to my sister, and we might live in the second largest city in Canada now, but grew up in a 350-person town and always flushed.

Just not possible. Not an excuse. She's clearly psycho. Watch your back.

srchngformystry said...


ive heard of weird bathroom etiquette before, but this one has me with my mouth agape and wondering, "when is fun jamie coming over again?"

Garrett Reid said...

TK: Maybe I should just ask her. I have had a couple of drinks tonight, and I think that may be a super fucking fantastic plan. I'll invite her over one more time, leaving the trashcan in the bathroom. When she deposits her waste-remains in the can, I'll ask her, "what the F you crazy person?" And thanks for sticking up for me with that bully L&F - although I feel the need to point out that I may be less than gay. Just to let you know. And I can definitely see bunnies crying in the vicinity of L&F from time to time.

New Texan: I was seriously worried I would find toilet paper stuffed somewhere - I guess it is still a possibility. You're cool now that I know that you are down with the Crows. (and big houses - which rock)

L&F - Why in the world would I make a reference to Georgian literature? Do people in Georgia write that well? If she is an evil genius with a blog she is my new hero. I am getting off of here and googling her. If I find out she has a master plan, I am totally having sex with her.

dmbmeg said...

where the hell do you find these bitches?

Garrett Reid said...

TK: Did you call me a homo in the same sentence in which you wrote pee-pee technique?

Punky: Thanks for the advice. I wish I would have removed the trash can from both bathrooms. I just never thought she would venture in to the second one. I kind of fucked up the experiment I guess.

srchngformystry: I don't know what to do about fun Jamie. On the one hand, I want to answer this mystery for myself and all of you. On the other hand, I want to protect myself from clearly crazy people. I am thinking about it.

dmbmeg: These bitches find me! This is my life. If I have to leave town because of her, can I be your roommate?

Joie de Vivre said...

i think you really did fuck her, cos surely you didnt fucken leave a rubbish bin in any of the 437 loos in your big ole texan house. surely? you either shagged the scientific experiment, or the girl with loo roll psychosis. both are bad news.

dmbmeg said...

sure, you can be my roommate. but i don't want any of these crazy bitches in my apt. rule #1, everyone must use the toilet.