Music director in a show at a prominant Cambridge, MA ivy league community college. Act I went very well. We started Act II. At exactly 4 measures into the first song, my dinner made it known that it was looking for the nearest possible exit. And this was not a “must take a shit within the next 5 minutes”, this was a “must take a shit right now, no questions asked.” And yet the act was over an hour long. Man, I took those songs at some rather brisk tempi. The orchestra was taken a bit by surprise at how even the slow love songs were done at patter speed.
Finally we got to the last dialog before the finale. It was a long one. I seriously contemplated walking out quietly, in front of an audience of 300+, going down 2 flights of stairs, into the men’s room, undoing my tux pants, exorcising whatever demons might be in my ass (and they were true minions of Hell, I was sure), wiping the nuclear waste away, refastening my too-tight pants, washing up, going back upstairs, and sneaking back into the theatre… Before the next song had to start. I had all sorts of visions of walking into the theatre to an audience, cast, and orchestra of over 350 people, all wondering where the hell I’d got myself off to.
The happy ending is I made it through the show then downstairs just before the shitstorm started. Ever since then, I always poop before Act II.
She’s in the middle of nowhere in Florida up to her waist in water. Do you grow Lotus flowers for the drug market? You do specify you worked in a lab, when not in the water.
Do you farm gatters for the university, to experiment on limb regeneration?
Do you have to take turns guarding secret underwater UFO swamp bases?
You sir (ma’am?) are disturbing the student that’s participating in my psycholgy experiment. I’m trying so hard not to laugh and disturb my participant that my boss is giving me weird looks. But I can’t get the image out of my head of you driving your car with your mouth open with cartoonish vomit cascading onto your lap all the way home.
Glad to hear that monstro. You do realize I was ribbing you I hope. Don’t take it as a personal assult. I’m not implying you took it as a personal attack now either.
Hehe. I knew you were joking. And my post was kinda mysterious. I talk about the Everglades all the time on the board, I just assumed that people knew that’s where I work.
I forgot to add in my first post: my sister bought me a box of Depends because I told her how difficult it is for me to simply urinate when I’m out in the field (the whole chest-waders-in-deep-water thing). I have yet to wear them because I’m afraid that 1)people will know I’m wearing a diaper, 2)they will leak, and 2)the diaper will imbibe water if my waders were to get flooded (as they sometimes do in deep water), leaving me with a soggy mess wrapped around my pelvic region.
But the Depends will come in handy one day, I firmly believe.
Wow. I’ve got to ask, how did your co-workers react in the days and weeks after? At my office, a poor tie decision one day will probably lead to a month or so of an unflattering nickname, a humorous caricature of the offender drawn on the marker board, and perhaps some salt in his coffee. If you were to soil yourself here, I would thing you’d have to find a new job at best and a new industry at worst out of humiliation.
How heavy are they if they fully soak up with water?
You don’t want to drown, because they weighted you down. The news media would plaster that around the country for a month.
You don’t want to almost drown, because they weighted you down. The news media would plaster that around the country for a month. You’ld try to shop and people would be pointing saying “There goes the lady that almost drowned wearing Depends.”
