I think that because I am sitting on my sister AK's bed listening to the rain and working (NO--this is not work, this is a break), I should share with you one of my horror stories. Most people have embarrassing stories, and I have many too, but I have even more horror stories. This one is both horror and embarrassment. A horrarrassment. Look it up in my dictionary.
Almost 4 years ago, while I was attending Liberty University in the Burg, I was a healthnutfreakcrazyperson. I was working out a lot and attempting to drink a lot of water every day. You know those big Nalgenes? The old school ones that we put bumper stickers all over? I would drink 5 of them a day. So my bladder got big and stretched out. Yay! In between two of my classes at school I had to pee real bad. So I ran downstairs to the bathroom and on the way in, I ran into a girl that I had shared classes with in the past. She liked to talk. More than me. That's a lot. So she was talking and talking and talking and I was squeezing and holding it and in pain. And I casually placed one leg in front of the other in order to help myself out. And guess what she did? Talked. And I couldn't say "no" or "hang on" or "just a moment" or "SHUT THE *BLEEEP* UP BEFORE I PEE ON YOU!". I lost all my self esteem and gumption and straightforwardness, and I smiled and nodded. Do you remember where I said I was standing? On the way in. As in, IN the entrance to the bathroom. I was that close, people!
So finally I said I needed to run but I'd see her later, and I spun out of my adorable positioning, and on the first step, that tinkle straight up gushed out of me. Imagine a dark pee circle on my jeans that started at crotch and ended near ankles. Now imagine the whole situation. How do you get to your car to get home and get pants without the whole world knowing? Well, this is where you'll be SO impressed with me. It was the dead of winter and freezing outside and so I had on a spaghetti strap shirt with a fitted cardigan over it. So I stripped the jeans and put them in my backpack. And I took that cute, fitted cardigan which was WHITE and I buttoned it around my waste. Imagine--tight white skirt buttoned up the back. Told you you'd be impressed. Now-you should know-LU has a Liberty Way which involves official rules blah blah blah. My outfit was NOT Liberty Way. It was very opposite of Liberty Way and it was very opposite of Whitney way as well. But I marched my hoochielookinself to my car across campus looking like this. Imagine: white, short, tight skirt buttoned up the back where you could see my hiny. Spaghetti strap tight shirt. Freezing cold. I told myself that if an RA approached me to write me up, I'd have her smell my backpack. But none did, and I've never gotten to my car quicker.
Thanks for listening to my horrarrassing moment. I love you. The end.