Wussies: None of my girl co-workers took my Double Dare today to go smell what I smelled in the second floor bathroom. I grew up with Koleman, he of the rotting festering guts & inability to flush the toilet, so I have smelled some keenly revolting bum fumes in my time, but this was something else. I think there was a dead body made entirely of poo, rotten meat, sardines & 78 used tampons clogging one of the toilets. Literally as I swung open the door, I was surrounded and all consumed by the almost tasteable foulness. I took a Guiness Records Style Pee, dreading somebody else coming in and me having to bust out of my stall, both palms up in the air surrender style, SWEARING ON MY LIFE that the smell was not me.

Classy Lady: At the Doctors Office I had to give a urine sample. Simple, alright here we go. I'm fairly certain I made Mr. Bean look slick in that stall. It took me half an hour to carve my name into the specimen jar with the dull pencil, I dropped every thing I was carrying at least once, including the towelettes meant to clean the labia, my keys, garbage INTO the toilet which I had to then fish out. I had to keep putting new things into the trash can which had an incredibly loud clangy lid that slammed open each time, and I didn't see the wide mouth cups meant to be peed in, than poured into the smaller jar until I was done and my hand was sopping wet with urine. Twenty minutes later I emerged from the bathroom sweating and disheveled, then sat in the waiting room with about twenty people. Ten minutes later I looked down and noticed my belt was undone, hanging wildly open, splayed and very obviously 'heeeyy waiting room, wanna party?!' Basically, all told, the pap smear was the highlight of the appointment.

Olde: My left palm, right arm, and left knee KILL today. I'm making audible 'oofs' as I bend and fold myself into the car or have to get to a standing position from sitting down. I'm pretty much Humpty Dumpty wrapped in a hoodie right now. Snerf.