(Writing from July 23, 2010.)
I waved at a cat this morning, as I drove home from dropping my son off for the last day of his summer swim camp.
I did it impulsively. It crossed the road and I waited for it to reach the sidewalk.
It stopped and stared at me as I drove past.
So I waved at it.
Smiling. Waving. At a tabby.
I then realized that if anyone was watching me, I would look a bit slow, or crazy, and became self-conscious. I laughed out loud at myself. I felt stupid.
Was I expecting it to wave back?
Every morning for the last few weeks, I have noticed the same plastic soda/pop bottle of what appears to be urine. It has been discarded on the road and continues to languish in the gutter, in wait of the next urgently full bladder, I suppose.
More than finding it disgusting, the bottle of pee perplexes me.
I realized today that the bottle of pee is upsetting because it triggers a disturbing chain of thoughts in my brain.
Whenever I see a bottle of pee, I run through all of my unanswered questions about bottles of pee.
And I really don’t want to have my very own mental series of questions about bottles of pee.
These questions mostly involve the mechanics of capturing the urine.
(Capturing the urine kind of sounds like a euphemism for something else, like chasing the dragon, doesn’t it? No? Just me? Okay.)
When capturing the urine, does a man place the head of his penis into, or merely against the plastic bottle?
Does he press hard and form a seal, leaving a red ring on the tip of his member, or does he just try to aim well from a few inches away?
If he can fit the penis into the bottle, does he do that in the name of quality control and reduced splash potential?
If he can fit the penis into the bottle, does it feel good, or does it scrape his penis in a painful manner when he withdraws?
If it did feel good to place his penis into the bottle, and that caused him to become erect while inside of the bottle, would it grow painfully tight, forcing him to think repulsive, erection-reducing thoughts in order to remove the penis from the bottle?
Would one of those repulsive, erection-reducing thoughts involve bottles of pee on the side of the road?
Isn’t he worried he will fill the bottle, be unable to stop mid-stream, and soak the surroundings with urine?
Why can’t these guys just stop and take a quick whiz next to their car like a normal person?
Or better yet, why can’t they just find a restroom like a normal person?
Who is in such a hurry to get anywhere that they can’t even stop their vehicle for the thirty seconds it would take to piss between two open car doors on the side of the road?
And are people in cars doing it too, or is this only a truck driver thing?
Are these pee bottlers taking pleasure in knowing they are grossing people out with the Number One bomb they will soon be tossing out the car window?
Is this purely a male phenomenon, or do women like to pee in bottles too?
Would a woman have to buy one of those “big mouth” soda pop bottles with a wider opening in order to perform this feat?
Do only Pepsi products offer the “big mouth” option?
Or would a glass pickle jar work better for a woman seeking a container in which to pee?*
And so on.
I hate that fucking bottle of pee.
I read a story this morning about Muslim women being thrown out of a pool in France for wearing “birkinis” while they swam. Here’s a link to the article: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/france/7904645/Two-Muslim-women-thrown-out-of-pool-for-wearing-burkinis.html
Here’s a picture of a “birkini”:
All I could think while I looked at this picture is, “I would look so fat in that birkini.”
Isn’t that the saddest thing you’ve ever heard? It’s a garment designed for modesty, and I still wouldn’t be caught dead in it.
But seriously, head-to-toe electric blue spandex? NUH-uh. No way.
My husband and I are going car shopping this afternoon. He gets off work around noon on Fridays, so we have a little window in which to look for a car until the kiddo is out of camp.
He went to a few dealerships to look for cars last night after we put our son to bed.
He works in sales for a living and has a degree in acting (surprisingly useful), so he loves to mess with pushy salespeople. Actually, he loves to mess with anybody he can.
He was test driving a car with a salesman, and the guy was listing the features of the car while my husband drove.
He mentioned that it had a latch inside the trunk to allow a person to open it from the inside, should they become trapped.
My husband said to him, completely monotone, no smile, “Well, I’ll have to remove that immediately.”
The guy smiled and said, “Good one.”
My husband held the unhappy face and said, “I’m not kidding.”
The salesman laughed uncomfortably.
My husband said, “I’m wearing sunglasses. You can’t see my eyes. I’m serious.” And kept frowning. Tension. Nervous mumbling from the guy.
My husband is 6’5″ and 200+ pounds. I should mention that.
He finally broke and smiled, told the poor fellow he was kidding.
I wish I could do that to people.
My first instinct is to alleviate the psychological strife, try to smooth over any uncomfortable situation to make everyone feel better. The Grand Enabler.
I could learn a lot from my husband the actor.
Happy day to you.
*I think I could make one of those larger Aquafina water bottles with the wide mouth work if I had to.