Friday, October 11, 2013

Stalled ...

I recently made an exciting discovery at the mall: the family restroom. This large all-stall room is amazing. It's bigger than our living room -- cleaner too -- and it has one of those "pretty mirrors" in which one's face looks less like blotchy fatigue and more like something Photoshopped. (It's in the lighting I think).

I looked forward to using it on Thursday, but instead found a teenaged girl on a bench outside the door, waiting in line. 

"I'll be quick," she promised, code for "I'm not going to lay down a deuce."

It didn't bother me that an able bodied teen -- sans stroller or small human accessory -- was using something clearly marked "Family Restroom." But I did take the opportunity to feign pissedness to Chuck via text message. 

Here is why we determined a teenaged girl would need to use this bathroom having, eliminated the obvious fear of public performance. (A fear that corked me for a month in college. If not for the bathroom at Super America, I'd have plumped to a scat version of Violet Beauregard). Anyway:

Chuck: probably crushing up her Addies
Me: maybe dancing with Molly
Chuck: peeing on a stolen pregnancy test
Chuck: purging Leeann Chin
Me: applying Manic Panic. Stolen. 
Chuck: changing into the outfit she was wearing when she left home this morning. 

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