Bathroom Humor (Literally Speaking!)
It was the summer of 1989. My parents were driving me to Pennsylvania to visit two of my best friends, Sylvia and Liza, who happen to be twins.
We made this trip to PA almost every summer since I was a little kid. I would usually spend a week or two at Slyv and Liza’s house, or they would spend a week or two at mine. Regardless of whether I was staying at their house or they were staying at my house, we always made the same road trip. You see, we had a ‘halfway meeting point’ called the Starlight Diner where our parents would make ‘the drop-off’.
I really hated the Starlight Diner. The food was sub par diner food, and the décor was dark and dingy; tufts of dust accented each painting hung crooked on the walls. While driving to Pennsylvania, I had a novel idea:
“Hey Dad, why don’t we try eating at a different place this time?”
“NO WAY!” he argued. “The Starlight is the exact halfway point between our house and Harrisburg!”
“Well,” I countered, “I’m not saying that we should abort our plans to make the drop-off at the Starlight, I just think that perhaps we could eat dinner at a different locale. After all, Kevin (Sylv and Liza’s father) said that they were going to eat before picking me up.”
My mom looked at my father as if my plan was the best thing she had heard in years. “Yeah, Archie, why don’t we find a new place to eat?”
My dad sulked, threw his hands up in the air and then flung them back onto the steering wheel of his ’87 Ford pickup truck. “The Starlight is the halfway point. We’ve been eating there for years. It’s always been good enough in the past!”
“Oh come on!” I protested. “I hate the Starlight! Give me a break! Their food tastes like crap!”
My mother was shaking her head. She knew that Archie and I were about to get into one of our heated debates.
“Could we PLEASE just go somewhere else so I don’t have to listen to you two argue for the next hour?” she demanded as she blew steam onto the passenger’s side window.
“Alright! Where should we go?” my dad asked in a sarcastic manner.
“I don’t know,” I retorted.
“Well, then we’re going to the Starlight.”
“Look over there!” I pointed to a sign in the near distance. “That sign says: Ed’s Pub—Best Food in Town. Let’s go there,” I suggested.
My father cut some unsuspecting car off on his right, and then swerved to make it onto the off ramp just in time to get us to Ed’s Pub parking lot without a scratch. My mother had her hands over her eyes until we came to a complete stop.
“This better be good,” my father muttered under his breath.
The first thing I noticed when we got inside Ed’s Pub was that it was very small, and very clean. It had a lot of character, which I liked. The booths were made of a dark wood, and they were big enough so that all three of us could fit comfortably. No sooner had we sat down when a server came and read us the specials of the day. We ordered some drinks, and then I excused my self to use the restroom.
I thought the bathroom was rather large for such a small establishment. There were three stalls. The first stall wasn’t occupied, but I’ve had an aversion to being in the first stall ever since I saw a horror movie in the 70’s where a woman is strangled to death when a man reaches over the stall with a thin metal wire and chokes her. The door to the second stall was closed, so I crouched down to see if I there were any feet on the floor. Sure enough, someone was already in stall number 2, so I went into the empty handicap-accessible stall at the end.
I took my time and placed ribbons of toilet paper over the seat. I was never one for squatting; I’d much rather cover the seat with tons of paper and sit. After adorning the seat with the Charmin, I sat down and began to pee. Just then, I heard the door open, and my mother call out—“Everything going okay?” She is usually quite reserved in public, but I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was in a playful mood.
“Yeah, right on target mom. No complications to report.”
“Good,” she replied, and I heard her enter the first stall and lock the door.
There I am in a public restroom having a conversation with my mom while a stranger is doing her business in the stall between us. All of a sudden, the women in the middle stall lets out a loud, very moist sounding, long fart. This poor woman just bottomed out. My mother begins to laugh her ass off. Then, she says, “EEEWWWW! That’s just DISGUSTING!” and continues to laugh whole-heartedly, thinking all the while that it was I who released the gaseous explosion of monumental proportions.
At this point, I’m trying to choke back the tears and hide my laughter as I realize that my mom thinks I’m in the stall beside her. She had no idea there was anyone in the restroom besides the two of us. There was no way in hell I was going to tell her any different--this was just too much fun, so I flushed the toilet and went out to the sink and washed my hands, still laughing my ass off. I just couldn’t imagine how incredibly mortified the woman in the middle stall must have been not only when she farted, but also when my mom verbalized how disgusting she thought it was!
My mom was still laughing when she said, “Oh God, that smells. You had better check your ass, young lady!” I actually began to feel sorry for my mom at this point, because she had no idea how uncomfortable she must have been making the woman in the middle stall feel.
I was crouched down almost underneath the sink, dying with laughter, when I heard and saw the bathroom stalls begin to rumble. My mom was now SHAKING the bathroom stalls and play screaming, “I’M STUCK! I’M LOCKED IN HERE! SOMEONE HELP!” I could not believe my eyes. I fell all of the way to the floor. I looked under the door of the middle stall and noticed that the woman’s feet were on tiptoes, and I just imagined her trying to climb into the toilet to make a getaway.
“Uh, mom…” I whispered.
“HELP ME! I’M STUCK IN THIS STALL! I CAN’T GET OUT!” She began shaking the stalls even more violently.
She truly was stuck. I got up off the floor and peered over the door into her stall. “Help me! The door really won’t unlock!”
“Try kicking it with your foot,” I recommended, knowing that she was much too short and way too uncoordinated to be able to kick the lock. She hit the lock one more time with her closed fist with just enough pressure to release the lock.
She came out of her stall and approached the sink. I burst into tears as I pointed to the middle stall. She turned around and looked at the door to the middle stall, then she looked back at me, then she looked back at the door, and then slowly turned her head back to me, her mouth wide open in disbelief.
“I didn’t fart!” I whispered.
“I said it was disgusting!” she whispered back. “And I was shaking the stalls!”
She was mortified. She grabbed my arm as her face transformed itself into the most embarrassed look you could ever imagine. We both darted towards the door. We made our way back to our booth. Both of us were still trying to hold back our tears of laughter. We tried to hide behind our menus; we didn’t want the woman in stall number two to eye us as she left the bathroom. Turns out the woman was actually a very attractive woman in her late thirties/early forties. She had long blonde hair, and was dressed quite respectively. I’d never imagined that the woman who released that loud explosion between her legs would have looked so distinguished. Once I got a good look at her, I hid behind my menu for another twenty minutes, at least until the tears were dried and I could control my laughter.
My mother is now in her sixties and finds it very difficult to control her flatulence while out in public. Paybacks are a bitch.
We made this trip to PA almost every summer since I was a little kid. I would usually spend a week or two at Slyv and Liza’s house, or they would spend a week or two at mine. Regardless of whether I was staying at their house or they were staying at my house, we always made the same road trip. You see, we had a ‘halfway meeting point’ called the Starlight Diner where our parents would make ‘the drop-off’.
I really hated the Starlight Diner. The food was sub par diner food, and the décor was dark and dingy; tufts of dust accented each painting hung crooked on the walls. While driving to Pennsylvania, I had a novel idea:
“Hey Dad, why don’t we try eating at a different place this time?”
“NO WAY!” he argued. “The Starlight is the exact halfway point between our house and Harrisburg!”
“Well,” I countered, “I’m not saying that we should abort our plans to make the drop-off at the Starlight, I just think that perhaps we could eat dinner at a different locale. After all, Kevin (Sylv and Liza’s father) said that they were going to eat before picking me up.”
My mom looked at my father as if my plan was the best thing she had heard in years. “Yeah, Archie, why don’t we find a new place to eat?”
My dad sulked, threw his hands up in the air and then flung them back onto the steering wheel of his ’87 Ford pickup truck. “The Starlight is the halfway point. We’ve been eating there for years. It’s always been good enough in the past!”
“Oh come on!” I protested. “I hate the Starlight! Give me a break! Their food tastes like crap!”
My mother was shaking her head. She knew that Archie and I were about to get into one of our heated debates.
“Could we PLEASE just go somewhere else so I don’t have to listen to you two argue for the next hour?” she demanded as she blew steam onto the passenger’s side window.
“Alright! Where should we go?” my dad asked in a sarcastic manner.
“I don’t know,” I retorted.
“Well, then we’re going to the Starlight.”
“Look over there!” I pointed to a sign in the near distance. “That sign says: Ed’s Pub—Best Food in Town. Let’s go there,” I suggested.
My father cut some unsuspecting car off on his right, and then swerved to make it onto the off ramp just in time to get us to Ed’s Pub parking lot without a scratch. My mother had her hands over her eyes until we came to a complete stop.
“This better be good,” my father muttered under his breath.
The first thing I noticed when we got inside Ed’s Pub was that it was very small, and very clean. It had a lot of character, which I liked. The booths were made of a dark wood, and they were big enough so that all three of us could fit comfortably. No sooner had we sat down when a server came and read us the specials of the day. We ordered some drinks, and then I excused my self to use the restroom.
I thought the bathroom was rather large for such a small establishment. There were three stalls. The first stall wasn’t occupied, but I’ve had an aversion to being in the first stall ever since I saw a horror movie in the 70’s where a woman is strangled to death when a man reaches over the stall with a thin metal wire and chokes her. The door to the second stall was closed, so I crouched down to see if I there were any feet on the floor. Sure enough, someone was already in stall number 2, so I went into the empty handicap-accessible stall at the end.
I took my time and placed ribbons of toilet paper over the seat. I was never one for squatting; I’d much rather cover the seat with tons of paper and sit. After adorning the seat with the Charmin, I sat down and began to pee. Just then, I heard the door open, and my mother call out—“Everything going okay?” She is usually quite reserved in public, but I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was in a playful mood.
“Yeah, right on target mom. No complications to report.”
“Good,” she replied, and I heard her enter the first stall and lock the door.
There I am in a public restroom having a conversation with my mom while a stranger is doing her business in the stall between us. All of a sudden, the women in the middle stall lets out a loud, very moist sounding, long fart. This poor woman just bottomed out. My mother begins to laugh her ass off. Then, she says, “EEEWWWW! That’s just DISGUSTING!” and continues to laugh whole-heartedly, thinking all the while that it was I who released the gaseous explosion of monumental proportions.
At this point, I’m trying to choke back the tears and hide my laughter as I realize that my mom thinks I’m in the stall beside her. She had no idea there was anyone in the restroom besides the two of us. There was no way in hell I was going to tell her any different--this was just too much fun, so I flushed the toilet and went out to the sink and washed my hands, still laughing my ass off. I just couldn’t imagine how incredibly mortified the woman in the middle stall must have been not only when she farted, but also when my mom verbalized how disgusting she thought it was!
My mom was still laughing when she said, “Oh God, that smells. You had better check your ass, young lady!” I actually began to feel sorry for my mom at this point, because she had no idea how uncomfortable she must have been making the woman in the middle stall feel.
I was crouched down almost underneath the sink, dying with laughter, when I heard and saw the bathroom stalls begin to rumble. My mom was now SHAKING the bathroom stalls and play screaming, “I’M STUCK! I’M LOCKED IN HERE! SOMEONE HELP!” I could not believe my eyes. I fell all of the way to the floor. I looked under the door of the middle stall and noticed that the woman’s feet were on tiptoes, and I just imagined her trying to climb into the toilet to make a getaway.
“Uh, mom…” I whispered.
“HELP ME! I’M STUCK IN THIS STALL! I CAN’T GET OUT!” She began shaking the stalls even more violently.
She truly was stuck. I got up off the floor and peered over the door into her stall. “Help me! The door really won’t unlock!”
“Try kicking it with your foot,” I recommended, knowing that she was much too short and way too uncoordinated to be able to kick the lock. She hit the lock one more time with her closed fist with just enough pressure to release the lock.
She came out of her stall and approached the sink. I burst into tears as I pointed to the middle stall. She turned around and looked at the door to the middle stall, then she looked back at me, then she looked back at the door, and then slowly turned her head back to me, her mouth wide open in disbelief.
“I didn’t fart!” I whispered.
“I said it was disgusting!” she whispered back. “And I was shaking the stalls!”
She was mortified. She grabbed my arm as her face transformed itself into the most embarrassed look you could ever imagine. We both darted towards the door. We made our way back to our booth. Both of us were still trying to hold back our tears of laughter. We tried to hide behind our menus; we didn’t want the woman in stall number two to eye us as she left the bathroom. Turns out the woman was actually a very attractive woman in her late thirties/early forties. She had long blonde hair, and was dressed quite respectively. I’d never imagined that the woman who released that loud explosion between her legs would have looked so distinguished. Once I got a good look at her, I hid behind my menu for another twenty minutes, at least until the tears were dried and I could control my laughter.
My mother is now in her sixties and finds it very difficult to control her flatulence while out in public. Paybacks are a bitch.
tags: humor, about me, bathroom humor, A Little Bent
©2006 Marcy_Peanut. All rights reserved.
posted by Unknown at 1:19 PM
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25 Comments:
That was a rather long-winded story. But is sure was funny!
I suspect that 'long-winded' is supposed to be a pun??
This HAD to be posted by Flathead! No? LOL!
Where did you find that link????
This was some world class blogging! I can't seem to stop giggling at your poor mom and your final punchline!
Now THAT is comedy!
That's too funny Marcy. Oh, the poor lady. And your poor mother. Now, that's a faux pas worthy of blogging about. :)
Unbelievably funny. And true? (Ask Jimmy Frey, it makes a difference...) Who could make that up.
LMAO
Mike
PS: Cool blog, mind if I stop back by when I'm in the neighborhood?
hahahahhahahahahahahahahahhahahahhahahahahahha
oh god!!!!!
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahhhhahahaha
LGOE: Thank you for your lovely compliment. I actually read the last two sentences to my mom after I wrote the piece and she said, "YOU CAN'T WRITE THAT ABOUT ME!!" Then, I reminded her that no one will know her true identity and that I only write the truth! LOL!
CHRIS: :) Thank you!
ZOMBIE SLAYER: This is, by far, one of the funniest memories that I have of my mom and me. I often wonder what the woman in the middle stall was thinking while my mom and I were laughing our asses off! I didn't hear her laughing, so I suspect she was highly mortified!!!
MR ALTHOUSE: Please do stop by whenever you feel like it! And, yes, this story is 100% true, as are all of the other essays on this blog. My life has been very tragic and funny all wrapped into one. I tend to focus on the funny. :)
MILADYSA: It was definitely my MOTHER who was raising hell in the bathroom. That's half of what makes this memory so funny for me. My mom LOVES to have fun at home, but rarely--if ever--displays this kind of humor out in public. She was just SO incredibly embarrassed when she realized the other woman was in the middle stall!!!
We have to all keep in mind that all of the names on this blog have been changed except for my brothers': they are actually Tom and Jerry, and my mom named them! So, that should tell you something about the whackiness of our family! :)
UGLYGIRL: I thought you would like this one!! :)
OH........MY..........SWEET..........LORD! I laughed my arse off with this post! And it was NOT long-winded-------hahahahahahaa------no pun! I think this is the BEST post ever! I was laughing with each paragraph!
OMG! Thank you so much for giving me the giggles! Your mom sounds hysterical!
nice story
That was you! I found you! How dare you insult me as I sat there in the bathroom passing gas! HOW OLD ARE YOU & YOUR MAMA to be MAKING FUN OF ME WHILE FARTING LIKE A PIG! I'm surprised at people like you. Oh, you don't fart, that never happens to you. You don't even pinch a loaf--ever---do ya!!!???? Do ya!!!?????
Well, just because I'm pretty and have long blonde locks DOES NOT MEAN I DO NOT FART!
It's human. Deal with it.
I'm very upset.
I would highly advise you to come listen to my seminar that I give regarding pooping in the work place. Let me know if you're interested. Please visit my site below, and email me with the appropriate information.
There's no shame in nature. It's a shame that people are embarrassed by our natural body functions.
DEB: I knew YOU of all people would love this...not because of the bathroom humor, but because of my poor mom.
The thing that I find incredibly humorous about this story is that it was SO uncharacteristic of my mom to do those shananigans. And there was someone else in the bathroom! It just kills me everytime!
HEIDI: :)
BLONDE_BOMBSHELL: When I wrote this post, I knew that I ran the risk of exposing my identity to the woman in the middle stall. All I can say is that I am sorry, and my mother has never used a public bathroom since that fateful summer of 1989.
SEMINAR_FOR_YOU: These last two comments have to be the brainchild of the one and only Flathead. Where do you find these links?? Are you using Google or what, my dear boy??
Sorry MP, I can't take credit for those last two links. But I did find this silly fart joke.
Oh well, the link is busted, but here's the joke:
"So---there was this woman who had a problem with silent gas. She went to the doctor and she said, "This is so embarrassing. I have this problem of farting silently. You probably haven't noticed, but I've let three of them since I've been in this office with you. Is there ANYTHING you can do?"
He said, "Yes, there is. The first thing is get you fitted for a hearing aid."
Ha ha ha! O that's rich!
Oh, geeze, that was some bad karma she made for herself. Maybe that's what's wrong with me!.....LOL
Really funny!
FLATLANDER: The thing I like about my story is the fact that my mom is usually quite reserved; it's becoming quite obvious what YOUR favorite part of the post is!!! :P Having said that, your joke reminds me of my mom 'cause she can't hear a thing anymore. She's always saying, "WHAT???".
Okay, so if it wasn't YOU that pasted these lovely links, then it must have been our little metal guy, GYROBOCOP!
KENJU: Thank you for visiting this blog!
16 people have found this blog by way of doing a Google search for 'shag haircut', 'shag haircuts of the '70s', 'shag+haircut+2006', etc. That's pretty cool, huh? I hope none of these people are thinking of getting a shag, unless, of course, they don't mind being called 'LUNCHBOX HEAD'!!!
This is the first time I've been to this blog in about a week.
But it's comforting to know that there are people out there just as crazy as I am.
GYROBO: That's all you have to say?? I slave over the computer for three hours typing this post with one hand and you don't even mention it???? Blasphemy!! :P
HaHa!!! I can totally picture you two in the bathroom laughing...brings back memories of Br**c ripping them in the shoe store afer telling the sales girl I was his wife...we are a family of potty humor, anxiety and flatulance!!
Marcy - This is, by far, one of the funniest memories that I have of my mom and me.
Ah, finally someone who speaks the English language correctly. I'm always hearing a pronoun following a preposition. Sure glad you don't do that. :)
ANONYMOUS: you must have me mistaken with someone else named 'Marcy'. My family is rather classy and uptight.
ZOMBIE SLAYER: I just scored 100% on this online prepostition test! BTW, I teach Language Arts and writing, so I would hope that my grammar is a-okay! ;)
AH well....whaddya'gonna do? When nature hits ya flat in ya face---you gotta laugh. If anything, the woman was probably more embarrassed than your mom was.
your mother sounds like a treat... I remember being embarrassed by my grandmother once, when I was probably 13 or so. We were picking peaches and she asked, "did you cut one?" I thought she was talking about gas, and couldn't imagine my grandmother talking like my classmates. Turns out, she was talking about a peach that someone had cut a hunk out of and she thought maybe it had been me!
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