Um, Your Baby Sounds Like a Furnace and I Am Pretty Sure That Is Not a Good Thing

Today I had to go to the doctor. You know, THAT doctor. The one that wants you to say "Ahhh" with parts other than your mouth. Yeah, I just grossed myself out with that one.

In any event, I had a bunch of time to kill while dressed in a gown with the opening facing front and a piece of paper over my lap. As in 30 minutes worth of time. Did I mention it was freezing in there?

As I was studying the poster that explained the various parts of a vagina*, I realized that I could hear an ultrasound happening next door. This was not surprising as there were about 50 pregnant women in the lobby when I arrived. So I listened to the WOM WOM WOM sound and thought to myself:

You are witnessing a little life growing and a little heart beating. How precious.

Then I thought:

Wow! That heart is beating fast.

Followed by:

That heart sounds like a train. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THAT BABY. WTF PEOPLE? IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE??

Then I got distracted when I heard that my doctor had a phone call and began to think I might have to frickin' call into work if this first thing in the morning appointment went any longer when I realized that damn ultrasound sound was STILL GOING ON. So I thought:

That is one hell of a long ultrasound.

And:

That can't be right.

And it wasn't. You know why? It was the frickin' heating and cooling in the building making that noise.

THE FURNACE.

Yes, I totally thought the furnace was an ultrasound.

The doctor eventually came in, heard the story and immediately revoked my female gender card.

But first he made me open wide.

*The more you know...

One Shoe, Two Shoe, Black Shoe, Brown Shoe

Mondays just aren't my thing. Are they really anyone's though? Does anyone wake up and think "Wow! Monday! Thank God!" Doubtful.

You know what makes a Monday worse? When you realize that you don't know how to dress yourself despite doing it for many decades. Because people that know how to dress themselves do not wear two different shoes TO WORK.

I wore two different shoes to the office.

And maybe I should have kept this information to myself, but it just so happened that I realized it while surrounding by a group of people and my gasp was so audible, I had to explain. I was too shocked to make something up. In that moment, with that gasp, I realized what had bothered me upon getting dressed this morning. My shoes didn't feel right. No surprise, right? They were after all two different shoes.

In my defense, they were the same kind of shoe boot. However, one was black and one was brown. Also? One fit nice and one fit tight. That was my clue. I chose to ignore it.

After everyone had a good laugh, someone commiserated "It happens. I get dressed in the dark all the time." Yes, me too.

Except the lights were on.

Just like when I wear my underwear inside out at least once a week.

But I don't think I will be showing anyone that error anytime soon.

Is That a Long Tube of Cotton Sticking Out of Your Ear?

The other day B picked up a small box I had received in the mail, held it to his ear, shook it and said "What do we have here?" in a weird British accent. I said "Tampons." He put them down and said "Whelp, I wont be needing those."

I hope not.

But if he does? I have PLENTY. You know my little obsession with buying bargains/deals? Well, when I wasn't looking, I apparently bought an entire store of tampons. I seriously keep finding them everywhere. I could supply a whole village. Well, if they only all just used one which would be weird. You get my point.

Instead of supplying a village, I decided to come up with some creative uses for my abundance of product. In no particular order:

Wine stoppers (who wants to come party with us now?)

Drain clogs

Upside down hanging ghosts (perfect for Halloween!)

Tie to a stick for a cat toy

Use as a newfangled way to "drink" vodka

Use as earplugs when the cats won't stop hissing, yelling and crying (like now)

Use as a newfangled way to get the cats to drink vodka so they will be quiet

The options truly are endless.

This picture was taken by my Mom's house. How fun are those fall decorations?

*This insane post is brought to you by too many hours at the office and not enough hours in the bed. At this time I would like to thank my sponsor, i.e. the law firm. I couldn't have done this without you. Cheers!

These Old Houses Part Deux

Back to our tour. As you have figured out, I took a LOT of pictures. I thought it best to break them up into two parts.

So, let's keep walking:

This is not the side of a house, it is the carriage house out back. I call it "super cool" because it is an entire apartment over the garage complete with kitchen, bedroom, living room and bathroom. It reminds me of the carriage house that Minnie Driver had in the movie Grosse Pointe Blank:

The backyard of that same house:

The tallest flower I have ever seen that was not a sunflower:

Full view of the back of the house:

As B and I were walking down the street, we saw this garden like thing where a house should be:

Then we noticed that house way back in the left corner behind the brick wall. B went in for a closer look:

Look how far away that house is! Now that is a yard!

One of the last houses we visited. Also, one of the longest lines, so I took a lot of pictures:

It may be hard to tell from the picture above, but the front of the house faces the side street rather than the main street. We have a house like that on our street. Unfortunately, the one on our street faces a main road.

This is the side of the house that faces the main street:

And right after I took the picture is when the twins I referenced in my last post arrived. MY twins. Yep, I looked down to discover that my blouse had basically become almost all the way undone and you could see everything I had. Thank god I was wearing a bra. Apparently B didn't notice. I would like to think no one else did either but I find that highly unlikely. B decided I wasn't fit to be taken out in public anymore. He may be right.

Back to the house. This is approaching the front door:

A view of the stained glass windows and details on the window sill:

Detail of the wood above the doorway:

This is an alley. An old school, accessible alley. B decided we should cut through it. I felt like a criminal. The dogs thought we were criminals based on their barking and growling.

I love how this house is covered in ivy. I do not love how that lady is in my picture:

However, I could not wait for the lady to move, because B was already on the move. Look how far ahead of me he was:

A home that looks good from across the street:

But, as you get closer, you see it needs some "TLC" as one lady put it:

I love this door:

Like a fairytale home:

And then the tour ends:

We had a great three hours and picked up some ideas for our house as well. I did not take any inside pictures because I thought it might be disrespectful to those that lived there. Actually, in some homes they told us we were not allowed. I kind of wish I had though. At least of those items B and I thought would work in our home.

So concludes our tour for this year folks! Until next year, you will have to be satisfied with pictures of our house.

Did You Happen to Lose Your Hair?

Walking out of Walgreens the other day, I noticed what looked like a bunch of hair. Upon closer inspection I found...it was a bunch of hair. Most likely that fake ponytail type hair that you can buy at drugstores, like Walgreens actually.

This begs the question...wouldn't you notice if you lost your hair?

It is not like that time recently that Britney Spears lost a big chunk of hair in the middle of her concert (although that probably hurt a heck of a lot more since hers is glued in), but still. You had a big mess of fake hair on your head. Later you don't. Seems to me you should notice.

Also, although it was kind of the person that found the hair to place it up on the metal thing I saw it on, in case the owner discovered she did, in fact, lose her hair, it was also kind of...GROSS.

Did they know it was hair when they picked it up? Does that make it any better? I think not.

Thoughts to ponder.

I Was a Rock Star Groupie Once

I have always loved musicians. Mostly I think it is their creativity and their ability to make music that people listen to and love. My heart really belongs to singers and songwriters though. When I hear a well crafted lyric, I swoon. It is no wonder, then, that I was a groupie for a while.

So now you are thinking I have wonderful stories to tell a la Almost Famous. Sorry to disappoint you, but my stories are not that glamorous and involve more driving than sex or drugs (as my Mom thanks the Lord and crosses herself). They do not involve touring the country on a bus with the band while living in a fantasy love affair with the guitarist. I loved that movie too though. Sigh.

Anyway, my stories are grittier and in most cases, more boring. Take a gander:

1. There was the time that I met Nelson. Don't know who Nelson is? Long blond haired twin rockers? No? Anyway, they were touring with Cinderella and some other hard rocking 90s glam rock band. My mom's friend knew a guy that worked the venue, my cousin and I threw his name around and the next thing you know, we were watching the concert from backstage. Albeit, it was the last song but still a rocking good time. And when I got cold, the roadie gave me a jacket. I then had to give it back.

2. I met Nelson again, up close and personal this time. The day after the last time. Yes, the roadie guys we met invited us to their next show a few cities away. Yes, a road trip. In our car - my cousin and I. Really not Almost Famous at all. This encounter involved watching a rehearsal where Nelson threw guitar picks at us, a meet and greet where we got our picture taken, front row seating to the concert and hanging with the roadies on the bus where I was asked to show ID (that would SO not happen in Almost Famous). My cousin, the underage one, however, was not. (That will show you Nelson roadies - we pulled a fast one on you!) This also prompted a picture with the roadies that my Dad later deemed to be "inappropriate" because he thought the one guy's hand was on my boob. Yes, because it is always my goal to show my father a picture of a guy holding my boob. This also prompted a decade long pen pal/friendship with the roadie. Wherever you are Louie, you rock!

3. Ratt was in town. Ratt is my favorite band. I hope I do not lose readers now. I know it is cheesy and bad, but I cannot help it. Same venue, same venue guy. Sadly, he could not get us back stage so he did the next best thing - he gave us the name of the hotel that the band was staying at and off we went. What we hoped to accomplish is anyone's guess. We got to the hotel and I was inches away from Stephen Pearcy - inches!! As we all headed into the hotel, wise security personnel seeing a gaggle of miniskirted big haired girls decided they needed to be carded. And just like that, it ended. We were not 21. Stephen Pearcy tried his best, exclaiming "These are ALL my girlfriends," but the security personnel did not care. As we left, circling the hotel, we saw a girl trying to sneak into a side door only to find it was locked. She wailed out to us as we drove by "but I will be 21 in just a couple of daysssssss." We felt her pain.

4. The Danzig disaster. Not that Danzig was a disaster, he was cool. The rest of the trip? Not so much. Yep, another road trip down a state or two to see Metallica, Danzig and whomever else was playing. To make a LONG story short - our ride was insane and after being pulled over for speeding would only drive 30 miles per hour. It took us HOURS to get there and we missed most of the show. Finagling our way back stage one at a time (um, for some reason our connection could only get one back stage pass), we ended up hanging with some roadies and then heading to the hotel to catch up with them and the band. The "band" ended up being Danzig. Next thing I know, I am stuck in a hotel room with five blonds and a guy (no idea why he was there) all waiting for Danzig who had made an appearance moments prior. After 20 insane minutes with screeching and mind numbing conversation, I realized my cousin had deserted me. So off I went to find her. Yeah, I found her in Danzig's room having a nice quiet conversation (no, really it WAS a conversation) with him. Total down to earth, cool guy that seemed bemused at the gaggle of girls I had left behind. No matter how cool he was, it did not make up for the four hour ride home while sitting in the middle of a two seater manual truck making conversation with a former enemy to ensure she didn't crash the car due to lack of sleep while my cousin snored beside me. Ah memories...

Which all brings me to today. I was at Potbelly's grabbing some lunch when I heard a version of a song that sounded really cool. Ten minutes later I realized that it was being played live by a guy in the corner who could sing REALLY good. That's when I remembered I love musicians.

As I left I turned and the guy looked straight at me and sang to me. My stomach jumped and for a moment I was transported back to earlier times and those rock star memories and thought "he looked at ME, the singer looked at ME!"

Then I looked at the short, very young, dorky guy behind the microphone, turned and walked out, closing the door, and those groupie days, behind me.

One Step Forward...Thirty Years Back

Remember the double secret blind date guy who had quite the double blind date? Well, he started dating someone new, someone older, someone closer to his age. This is a big thing for him as he typically dates children. However, despite dating someone older and presumably more mature, he still has stories:

DSBDG: So, you know I have been dating that OLD woman.

Me: She is younger than you, right?

DSBDG: Yeah, but she is still an OLD woman. She is in her 50s or something.

Me: But you are still older than her, right?

DSBDG: Whatever. Anyway, we were out the other night and she told me that she wanted me to meet her friend because she thought I would like her.

Me: Wait. Are you still dating this woman?

DSBDG: Yes.

Me: Okay, so she just wants to introduce you to her friends?

DSBDG: Well, kinda, but not really. She said she thought I would like her friend because she was my type and sexy.

Me: Wait. What? Huh?

DSBDG: Yeah, she thought we would hit it off.

Me: Like a threesome?

DSBDG: Unfortunately, no. I think just more of a side thing.

Me: She wants to SHARE you??

DSBDG: I guess.

Me: Um, okay. Since when did you get all Big Love and...ew GROSS.

DSBDG: No Big Love. We aren't getting married.

Me: Whatever makes you happy DSBDG.

DSBDG: Oh, I am happy.

DSBDG: Funny thing though. Last time I dated women whose collective age was 100, I was dating 6 at the same time.

Me: Um, you might want to check your math.

DSBDG: [silence]

Me: 100 divided by 6...

DSBDG: Oh. Yeah. Right.

Lock your children up. At least the female ones.

Holy Mammaries!

Today I had the lucky opportunity to get my first ever mammogram. And when I say "lucky" I mean "forced-on-me-by-some-evil-doctor-that-thinks-he-is-doing-good-and-doesn't-he-know-those-don't-start-until-your-40". Having heard how they like to take your breast and squash it until you can eat it with some blueberry syrup, I was less than thrilled. I went anyway.

Boys, you may want to stop reading here.

You've been warned.

I arrived at my destination with the mindset that I would completely forget everything I had ever heard about mammograms and act like I know nothing. A blank slate of sorts (kind of like Echo for those of you that watch Dollhouse. FYI - if you like Joss Whedon, watch Dollhouse). While waiting in line to check in, I noticed that they had a "take a number" setup for those getting blood work. As a line started to form behind me, a guy says "are you here for blood work?" Ha! "No," I respond, "I am here for the pancake breakfast." Okay, no I didn't say that, but I should have.*  Those lucky dogs got numbers and were in and out before they called my name.

When my name was called I followed the nurse to the imaging room that had been painted some obnoxious pink color. Okay, I know pink is the color for breast cancer and also for girls, but really? The last thing I want to think about when I am getting a mammogram is breast cancer and I am well aware that I am a girl. Not to mention that the pink I am referring to was like a Pepto Bismol pink but with orange in it. Can you imagine? You might not want to try. In fact, I thought I might need some Pepto Bismol to help my stomach from just being in the room. Obviously, I did not know the fun was just beginning.

After changing into a pink (of course!) patterned smock thing which "opens in the front please" on top of my polka dotted work skirt and knee high boots - ROWR (just imagine if those blood work guys could have seen me then), I filled out a form, ON PINK PAPER. Overkill much? The tech asked me if I had heard awful stories about mammograms. Wait! There are AWFUL stories? WHY WAS I HERE???? I nonchalantly acted like I had heard absolutely nothing until she said "we are going to use compression which means..." at which point I interrupted her to assure her that I knew exactly what compression meant. I did not need to hear what was going to happen.

So the machine? A silver tray where the tech not so gently plops one of your girls on top and then molds it around until it does her bidding. The compression? A piece of plastic. Seriously, like a tray. Maybe I could get a drink to go on that tray? I was nervous as heck, sweating bullets and they wouldn't even let me apply deodorant today. Side note: I currently have a stick of deodorant in my purse as I was not about to go an entire day without deodorant. That would be a crime.

Back to the machine. The compression? It REALLY compresses. I did not look because I didn't think that was something I wanted to see but it was very uncomfortable. In fact, the tech said "some women find this uncomfortable." Some women? Let me guess those that don't find it uncomfortable HAVE NEVER HAD IT DONE. Oh and it was twice per girl - once from the top and once from the side. SHE COMPRESSED ME FROM THE SIDE. I may never be the same again. My girls are crying. Well they don't have tear ducts, but they are quite sad. My left one especially. During the second phase I actually said to the tech:

"Huh....just when I thought you couldn't possibly compress anymore, you go ahead and surprise me."

She did not really find that amusing. You know what I didn't find amusing? Having to check to see if I still had nipples.**

* This joke is very timely considering IHOP was giving away free pancakes today. No pancakes for me though, just for the girls.

**I do. Don't worry.

I Blame the Aliens

I woke up with my left nostril sore on the inside and out and a huge bruise in the middle of my forehead.  My nostril feels like a huge probe was jammed inside of it.  No clue what is going on, but I blame the aliens.

Carry on...

*Real post to follow shortly

Not So Secret and Not So Blind Update

So, I totally had to change my scheduled post today so I could come back here and update you as to yesterday's events.  After all, at least 3 of you asked. That is demand enough for me.  This is what I got for information on the big "date." 

Day after date:  

I see friend and say "how was the date?" He says "okay."  I express complete and utter shock that there actually was a date.  He just shrugs and says "I'll see her again."  

Day after day after date:

I realize that I am missing a CRUCIAL piece of information - her name.  Would also like to see what other details I can drum up.  So I see friend and have this exchange:

Me:  What was that girl's name?

Friend: Girl? What girl? 

Me: The girl from the other night - your "blind" date.

Friend: Oh you mean the woman?

Me: Sure...whatever...what was her name?

Friend:  Randy

Me: RANDY? Her name is RANDY? She's a guy!

Friend: She spells it with an "i"

Me: I don't care if she spells it with hearts and flowers, she's a guy!

Me: She is SO a guy!! She's a guy!  [This also involved me pointing at him while chanting]

I then turn to a nearby person who is half participating (mainly eavesdropping) in the conversation and say, "She is SO a guy!"  

Friend: No, she is all woman.

Me: She's a dude.

Friend: I am telling you she is all woman, I know.

Me: A boy can buy boobs too you know.

I turn to other person, "It is true, boys can buy boobs. That means NOTHING."

Friend:  I know for a 100% fact that she is a woman*

Me: [speechless]

Me: Oh.

Me: And the date was just okay??

*He knows because he looked at her driver's license. What were YOU thinking?

Double Secret Blind Date

I know you are wondering, how can a blind date be double secret? Isn't a blind date, well, a blind date? The answer of course is no.  Let me fill you in on the double secret blind date of which I just became aware of today.*  A guy I know told me he had a date.  Not that he is an infrequent dater by any means. In fact, he dates a lot. He only tells me about the unusual, unique or downright hilarious ones.  So I brace myself for a doozy of a story. Instead I get a voicemail. His voicemail.  It went something like this:

"Hi Riddler's Friend. You don't know me but a mutual friend told me that I should call you so that we could go out.  I am 5'4, lean, with long blond hair and big boobs. So give me a call."

I decide this is a joke. This is a joke, right? No, says my friend. He insists he talked to this woman on the phone and he is going out with her tonight. During their conversation he found out she is a personal trainer, runs triathlons, and could kick his ass. I am convinced she is a boy.  What he did not find out is (1) who told her to call him and (2) her name. (I don't know how he called her without knowing her name. I presume she just answered).  You heard that right. He is going out with an unnamed woman whom he does not know referred to him by some alleged unnamed friend.  How much more double secret could it get?

Even though he is a boy, I ask him if he is taking a friend, or perhaps a weapon, with him?  He just laughs.  I remind him that (a) she sounds like a boy, or at least a mean-kick-your-ass girl, (b) she can kick his ass and (c) HE DOES NOT KNOW HER NAME.  Really - we may never hear from him again after tonight. He assures me he is going somewhere where he knows a lot of people.  Yep, everyone but her I guess.

And let's get back to the voicemail. Pretend this is real. Who describes themselves like that? Really?  Who says 5'4", lean, long blond hair and BIG BOOBS?  A boob that's who.  Not sure it would be someone I wanted to date. Can you imagine, girls, if a boy called you and said this:

"I am 6'2", athletic, dark hair and I have a big penis."

On second thought, maybe she has the right idea...

*Yep, I just coined the phrase double secret blind date. Feel free to use it in the future. Just don't actually go on one. 

I'm back.....

So I have returned. Where have I been? Everywhere of course, and apparently too tired, busy, or lazy to post. Since I have been away for um, about 7 months, there is a lot to say. Rather than give a detailed accounting, however, I am opting for an edited list edition. So here it is. This is my life for the past 7 months in list form and probably forgetting half of what occurred.

1. Had my going away party. As you can see from the posted picture, there were a lot of green drinks. Yes, it was strange drinking a green margarita on St. Patrick’s Day, but as predicted the place was empty. The party was beyond boring! If not for my good friend J, I may have shot someone. However, since she was there, I left the gun play for those outside the bar. Yes, indeed, someone had a gun on St. Patrick’s Day. Go figure. No shots fired. Drunks arrested. Drunks inside the bar, however, still there to annoy me. Perfect ending to the not so perfect job.

2. No matter where you go in life, people are the same. Same zany work people, just different degrees. And, yes, people still complaint about missing itmes. Here at THE NEW PLACE I have received many emails regarding items I did not know we had (pliers) from places I did not know existed (Zerbie ring drawer). If you know where any of these items are or more importantly can translate “Zerbie ring drawer” for me, please let me know at once. I know I am sitting here missing something big at THE NEW PLACE as I type. BREAKING NEWS: My Secretary just handed me a memo and apparently Zerbie is some kind of paper binding system. Carry on. Crisis resolved.

3. My office, or rather, my phone is haunted. It’s true. I am being haunted by Roger. Apparently Roger used to have the extension that I have. So I now receive his voicemails from the past and sometimes, from Roger himself. Quite freaky. At first the HR person thought I was crazy. Then she thought she was crazy after listening to it. What she failed to realize is that Roger and I are like soul mates intertwined through electrical currents. Come to find out that Roger liked to send messages to himself in the future. Guess what I am getting? Yep, those messages. Who knows when this will end. I do know a lot about Roger now. Hee hee hee….

4. Overheard one day at THE NEW PLACE: a partner speaking to his secretary: "and don't be crying over your hair". Seriously.

5. My doctor wanted me to have a sleep study done and he said that the facility would contact me. It had been a week so I called them. Here is a transcript of the conversation:

Them: ISW

Me: Hi, my doctor wanted me to have a sleep study done at your facility and stated you were going to call me. It has been over a week so I just want to make sure that you received my paperwork.

Them: Okay, one minute

(2 seconds later)

Them: ISW, can I help you? (same girl)

Me: Yes, it is the same person you were just talking to and put on hold.

Them: No, we did not have anybody on hold.

Me: Yes, you just talked to me 2 seconds ago - supposed to have a sleep study done, wanted to make sure you have my paperwork....

Them: I can check that for you. When did you have your sleep study done?

Me: I HAVEN'T HAD A SLEEP STUDY DONE. I am supposed to have one scheduled.

Them: Okay, what is your name?

Me: First. Last.

Them: Okay First....go ahead with your last name.

Me: LAST

Them: That does not sound familiar but I will check.

(4 seconds later)

Them: I have your paperwork right here.

And I am supposed to trust their diagnosis?? No. I had the second sleep study done at another place. A little less ludicrous but still slightly crazy. I do have sleep apnea. The treatment? Look it up for yourself. You will be scared. More on that one later.

6. My cousin had a baby, a precious little girl. I was there for the whole event. Yes the WHOLE event. Words cannot describe, nor would you want them to. Ha! It was very beautiful and I was happy and proud to be a part of it. What was not beautiful was waiting around with a bunch of lunatics that I also happen to call family. That made for a LONG wait. One example before I move on – a nun (really) who kept telling the waiting room that it did not take this long when she gave birth (yep, never had), who broke all kinds of speeding laws to get to the hospital, and who loudly declared that my cousin should shoot her dog and kill it because it could possibly attack the baby. Yep, a nun. I actually asked her more than once if she really was a nun. She claimed it was true. Hmmmm…..I am still investigating that one.

7. Seen in court: Man wearing not only a priest collar but also a sheriff badge. Now what are the chances that he is both? I would say slim to none. Also, I don’t think a priest/sheriff would be getting a call from Social Services. He did. I heard the whole think because he is apparently deaf as well. I think he just could not decide which “costume” would better impress the judge, a priest or a sheriff so he went as both. Happy Halloween!!

Shoot it for me Winchester...

One of the things I wanted for the new year was a clean office. I worked hard to achieve that goal before I left on Friday. Mission accomplished! Too well, in fact. Apparently when my boss, who was on vacation last week, came in this morning before me -- he saw a dark office with nothing on the desk and thought I had quit! But, alas, I am still there. He is relieved I am sure. My secretary, on the other hand, threw my mail at me and said "I thought you were on vacation" while huffing off. Well 1 out of 2 ain't so bad, right?

Now keeping with the office theme, why do people treat the office bathroom like it is their own personal bathroom and no one else could possible see, or more importantly, hear what is going on? Today's story comes courtesy of a coworker who apparently decided to take a "bathroom break" to play Tetris on his cellphone. I assure you that is not the funny part of this story. While deep in his Tetris game, someone else comes in. My colleague keeps quiet and lays low in the handicap stall so he won't be caught playing in the bathroom, so to speak. He then hears one of our coworkers say "Shoot if for me Winchester" three times. While my colleague is pondering this phrase during its third repeat, he realizes the man has started to use the bathroom. Apparently "Winchester" was this man's "pet" name and his "pet" needed encouragement to get the job done. And if that is not disturbing enough, keep in mind that this man is in his 50s, looks like he is in his 100s, and comes equipped with his own personal morphine drip. Now do you get the complete picture? This is just about up there with the equally disturbing episode in the woman's bathroom a few months back that involved the phrase "I felt that coming" after a grunt. Can you imagine these two in the same bathroom?? Do it, I dare you. It's not pretty.