Last night I had the wonderful opportunity of getting together with a dear friend of mine, Mrs. Kitty.  We have been friends for years and I love having the chance to see her.  Most of the time we’re together, I’m trying hard not to have any fluids shoot out of my nose while I’m drinking my ever-present Diet Coke and laughing hysterically.  I am convinced that laughing is all the ab work I need to do!!  (At least that’s the story I’m going with…..)

So we were able to meet up for dinner and enjoy some GOOD TIMES!!!  Our server came over to us about every 10 minutes to try to take our order.  Can’t you see we’re talking and haven’t even opened the menu????  I’m convinced that some servers are put in your life just to irritate you.  I think she was taking her job to heart, and trying to interupt us as many times as possible.  Kudos to you, Server-chick-whose-name-I-don’t-remember.

So after sitting for 3 1/2 hours and drinking inhumane amounts of pop, my bladder felt like it was going to do just that.  I had to interupt the conversation because I realized my bladder was going to take care of it’s business and didn’t really care where I was when it happened.  Seeing as I didn’t want to have to explain to Server Girl or the manager why a lovely yellow puddle was forming around me, I decided we needed to move the party elsewhere.

That’s when the problem started.  Sitting down I was fine because my bladder wasn’t moving.  It was just sitting in it’s nice little resting place, making threats and swearing a bloody streak at me.  I tried to stand up straight and realized that if I did that, said puddle would come hither. 

So I did what any normal person would do:  I slouched down, looking like an old woman and hobbled out to the restroom, Mrs Kitty in tow laughing hysterically at me.  I kept telling her “Don’t make me laugh, don’t make me laugh”.  Do you think she listened???  No of course not.  In her opinion it’s not a good night unless someone shoots something out their nose, loses bodily functions, or gets a piercing in an inappropriate spot.  (Thankfully I was able to elude her attempts in Vegas to get the piercing one.  Phew!!)

Even in my excruciating pain, as we walked up to the front of the restaurant, both of us full of yummy chicken and garlic toast, we had to pause in the pain and admire the dessert tray.  We were able to restrain ourselves and made it to the restroom. 

I don’t think I’ve ever had to use the restroom so bad in my life!!!  All I could think to say in my moment of dispair was “Ah, sweet relief!!”.  Which made me wonder if anyone was outside the restroom door and what their facial expression would be if they heard us.

We TOTALLY have to do that again, Mrs. Kitty.  🙂