Friday, March 02, 2007

Buns full of cluck

So, here's my review of 2 new-to-me chicken sandwiches, which were the sum total of my dietary intake yesterday (aside from the mandatory coffee and Diet Coke, and a cupla bites of dessert, and, um, some french fries......)

McD's chicken ranch club:

Bacon. Ranch. Yum.

Popeye's spicy chicken sandwich:

Good LORD this sandwich is HUGE! And....tasty....but I can't eat it all........or maybe I can.......spicy is right.....oh,'s all gone.





The joys of being on the road for a day - FASTEE FOODEE!!

Not so joyous bits - driving in the dark and the rain on largely deserted stretches of road, with nary a bathroom in sight after having quaffed a 20-ounce pear-flavored Dasani......

Not a good idea at all.

However, I must say that the nice ladies at the 7-11 keep a very clean facility. Not that I would have CARED how clean it was at the time, what with the URGENCY and the OMG-ness of the experience, but once I recovered my composure I did notice the homey freshness of it, and so bought 20 bucks worth of gas from them for their troubles.

Anybody ever notice that, when you have to "go," the close you get to a bathroom the MORE you have to go? Like, within 5 FEET of the bowl the sense of "hurry up" increases exponentially? I could go 20 minutes with a "hey, let's find a facility" thought, but the INSTANT I see a potential pee-place my bladder starts a kickin' and dancing in joy, sending clear signals of "it might be too late after all" to my brain.

Wish I'd known how long to ignore that signal one year in Girl Scout camp. That hike was just 50 feet too long.


I guess trying to SIT in the washroom sink to pretend that the huge wet spot was there because I'd SPLASHED myself was not such a hot idea either.

Sigh again.

I've learned, over time, just how my system is calibrated. No more dangerously close liasons that end up in using the side of the road as my personal urinal, oh no! (Though, in a pinch? I totally do that). I now make BARGAINS with myself! "Just don't think about it. There's noplace to stop. Just bob your legs or sing or open a window or hum nervously, just don't THINK about bathrooms or how nice it would be if one just happened to appear over the horizon in this godforsaken stretch of country. Do.Not.Do.It."

Hi, I'm 44, and I think I can talk my bladder out of being full.

Just thought you ought to know.

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