Heroin Addict. Big Shit. Firefighters.
Ok, let the odd search requests begin.
In typical Min Jung-esque ridiculous fashion, let me explain the horrifyingly embarrassing moment of the day to you. So I’m out with my friend J. and we’re on a quest for a Hapi Hour. A hapi hour that he insists is in Japantown. Because the restaurant/bar sounds Japanese. In fact, as far as can be construed, it’s a hawaiin joint. About 15 blocks from japantown. It’s a sunny Thursday. I’ve had too much coffee, and after a week worth of stress and anxiety which leads to a touch of psychosomatic constipation, I’m ready to let *it all go* and have a beer. However, we’re in J town. At the mall. Not at the bar. And we are on a quest for a restroom.
While J. tries to locate the exact place for the Hapi hour, I wander off to find a can. The one on the ground floor is locked. Drats. I take an elevator up to the 2nd floor where I follow a lady cop into the bathroom and find myself in the comfort of a tiny, clean, but cramped little bathroom. Meanwhile, while assessing the ample rolls of toilet paper, being grateful for a dry bathroom floor, and finding a managable way to hang my purse on the door, I overhear that the ladycop is interrogating the woman in the stall next to me.
Apparently she’s lying down on the floor after taking a nap. Her name is Linda. She is 50. She is a heroin addict and took a nap there. There is a frantic query as to where the needle might be as the cap is on the ground next to the woman’s head. (I’m sure she was grateful as well that the bathroom floor was relatively dry.)
Meanwhile, I’m taking a shit that a young lady like myself should consider completely unmentionable. And extremely indelicate. Of a certain unnamed A-List Blogger’s proportions (inside joke. Oh, you *had* to be there) At least it didn’t float, plop, break off into pieces or drip. And yes, I do realize that this is *FAR* more information than you’d like to consider but since I’ve already had a full day of complete and abject humiliation, There really isn’t much point in stopping.
When I finally emerge from the bathroom, with plans to discretely escape the lady cop and the crack head, I discover what appears to be the entire Firemen’s and Policemen’s ball outside of the stall. Yes. About 15 men in blue staring at me as if to say “Wow. How’d a little thing like you take such a big dump.”
Actually they just asked “uh…how’d you get in there.” I answered “(blush)When you gotta go, you gotta go.(blush) My gawd,(blush) I had to poot. (blush) Sorry.(blush) Woops.(blush) Of all days to take a dump (blush)in front of a bunch of cute men in blue. (blush) Way to be. (blush)Hope it wasn’t stinky.”(blush)(blush)(blush)(blush)
They laughed and grinned at me. Tipped their hats. And I blushed as I rinsed my hands and ran out of the bathroom. One later offered to give me a ride to the Hapi Hour (about 15 blocks away. Yes. I don’t even want to think about it. )
Rather mortifying. But yes…and that would be how the search terms for heroin, big shit, and firefighters would bring you to my site today.
Greetings.