Thursday, August 8, 2013

Does A Bear Sh*t In The Woods?

Traveling is fun! I enjoy hotels, airports, and road trips. I don't, however, get to partake in a weekend adventure very often...what with the masses of people I'm responsible for carting around, it is less leisure and a lot more work leaving the alternative of staying at home the more appealing option. My older two boys seem to be more and more involved with activities that require us to pack up and leave town, and since mama is as mama does I pack my posse and follow my athletes wherever the wind takes them. And the wind has taken us "east river" each of the last three weekends. We've gotten to pack everything but the kitchen sink, load my mama-mobile, travel great distances and stay in hotels. Each and every time the kids are overly excited and giddy about the untold adventures and events that a trip promises. And secretly, I'm pretty excited too, except for a small part of the adventure that I manage to keep on the down low.

Sporting events and hotel fun aside, I do harbor one teeny, tiny personal issue, if you will, when it comes to traveling. I tend to be a party pooper....well, quite the contrary, I actually leave the "pooper" part at home. The good, the bad, and the ugly of my dilemma is that I am an at-home-only kind of girl. Call me crazy, but I save my crowning moments for my own personal throne, and it only becomes problematic when we are...well...away from home! Traveling and all of its fun can be slightly overshadowed when the "unmentionable deed" ceases to happen. Case in point, three weekends of baseball travels also mean three weekends of  "traffic backup on the interstate"! I think you know what I'm saying, but for those of you who are struggling to read between the lines...I can't poop anywhere but at home, and my ability to "free the chocolate hostages" comes to a sudden and complete stand still!

I'd like to think that I'm not super high maintenance, but apparently in this particularly demented arena, I am! However, as a side note, I think more people should practice the art of at-home-only pooping. Leave the "stalling of the brown sedan" to the likes of solitary confinement behind locked doors in your own abode! I actually think more women subscribe to this theory than will admit, however, or at least that is how I choose to view the world. It is highly uncommon that a public women's bathroom emanates with the odor of the unmentionable deed, but when it does (or God forbid someone christens the throne  and "launches a corn canoe" whilst I am in their presence!) I am completely offended! That particular realm of affairs needs to happen AT HOME! I have several lady friends that feel as strongly, if not more so, about this as I...that's probably why we are such good friends...and we have discussed (in alarming detail, I might add) the art of self control and waiting to make this business transaction until you are safely at home. "Drop the kids off at the pool" on your own time and leave the rest of the public bathroom users out of it! If I had my druthers, I'd request you to withhold from fumigating afore mentioned bathroom as well. I don't want to be privy to your gaseous state...respect the patrons surrounding you and suck it up ladies!

Public sewer-snake-dropping aside, I can't even perform the "daring do" in our hotel room! First of all, quarters are way too close and enclosed for that kind of nonsense to be happening. No one should be subject to anyone else's butt odor! Second of all, I always seem to try to occupy the throne after one of my minion who always succeed in secretly barricading the one-way street! I'm left with plunger in hand cursing all poopers in all of mankind! What horror to be told if I would actually succeed in releasing a "chocolate banana" only to have it refuse to leave the premises! I would have to do the walk of shame to the front desk and request maintenance on our toilet!! Is there any worse torture?! Nope! So "hold it" is my traveling mantra. By the end of our 8 day Disney World trip, I was up a jean size, uncomfortably bloated, and bordering Defacation Inability Induced Toxicity (oh it's an me!) which results in irritability and mood swings! Disney magic can only last so long when trap doors have to remain locked. 

Truth be told, I don't even want Lt Hubby to know that I occassionally "drop a load"! That's not sexy at all! I have him trained and under my spell that my deposits come in chocolate covered strawberries, and until this euphoric bubble is popped, that's my story and I'm stickin' to it! I rarely excuse myself to "talk to a man about a horse" when Lt Hubby is home. And as long as I can control his mind, I'll have him believe that girls don't poop!

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