Sometimes Life is Crap!

Do you deal with a lot of shit in your life?  Do you have stories like these?

I am born with the Irish gene, named Crapish.  This means that whenever I walk into any type of shopping situation, I get excited and have to go to the bathroom.  Really, I'm pushing the wenches out of the way in Target to get to the stall in time.  Oh and the bookstore?  I can't go in there until 3 cups of coffee later, I've done my duty.

I also holding the lucky name of Deer in the Headlights, that's because I've been caught more times than Bambi hiding behind a tree on a morning run.  One poor lady didn't believe my, "I'm putting human scent here to scare the deer away from the hunters," the third morning in a row.


I also have Shitraction, that means that any bathroom I visit when traveling has to be the worst bathroom in the country.  I've seen plastic lawn chairs with a hole cut in the middle of them over a 5 gallon bucket in Mexico,  a hole in the floor with two "put your feet here" stones so you can squat and aim (I finally understood why every woman in Japan always has tissue on them).  One of my favorites was a statue of a nekkid man in the bathroom at a bar, with a fig leaf over his Hahoo.  Of course, when I lifted the leaf to have a peek, I did not know that a light was going off in the bar telling everyone.  The applause I received when coming out of the bathroom was knowledge enough that I'd been busted.

I've broken up with port a Johns during my running races.  The worst bathroom I've ever seen is a port a john during a marathon in Virginia Beach.  I swear someone must have opened the door to the toilet, stuck their butt in and went.  Shut the door and kept on running.  One of those, '"how did it get there," type moments. Scarred for life on that one, scarred for life.  I'd rather dive into the woods than risk seeing that again.

I have the nickname of Crapola when it comes to luck.  When I am trying to have a "private" moment to myself, that's usually when the Mom walks in with the small child who promptly wails, "Mom, it STINKS in here.  OH GOD, what is that smell."  Better yet, the only bathroom that had a working lock at an airport was the handicap stall, the problem, I found out a few minutes later was the lock worked but the toilet didn't.  Looking down and watching the wheels roll up to the stall just made a shitty situation turn worse.

My handyman calls me the Craplord rather than a Landlord, I had a tenant call and say that there was a "slight" smell in their home.  I went over to find that the main sewer pipe broke and there was 3 feet of crap in the crawl space under their home.  I asked them if they didn't "SMELL" anything?  They said a slight sulfer smell, a slight sulfer smell?  Slight?  After 400 to Forsyth Rooter to pump out the crap, then another 3K to hazmat out my handyman, crawl under there, lay down lime, plastic, lime, plastic and fix the pipe - for some reason he's not answering my calls right now.

So there you see, I've become a strong woman because I can take a lot of crap - literally and figuratively.  So don't give me any of your shit, because you don't know what I will do with it.