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Tinkle Tinkle Little Star
I am blessed with a bladder the size of a pumpkin seed, which means that I am well acquainted with every toilet between here and London, and quite a few of those within the city as well. It means I am able to navigate through the darkness of my house with the grace and finesse of a drunken bull in a matador's ring as I stumble and fumble my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It means I have zero shame asking people where a toilet is. It also means I have the art of hovering down to a science, with thighs like Arnold Schqarzennegger's.
It's a fact of life.
It just is.
I pee all the time.
I don't know how many times in my life I have heard the words, "What, AGAIN?" and not in a complimentary I-see-you've-just-had-another-orgasm or you've-won-Miss-America kind of way.
And I don't know how many times I have uttered the words, anxious look on the face and toes hopping as I search the area like a deer in headlights: "Ummm...I kinda' have to go."
And if I can't get to a toilet, I get angry. I get stressed, I get angry, and I worry that I am giving myself a yeast infection (apparently you can do that if you hold it too much). Or that I will suddenly blow a gasket like a defective washing machine line and unleash the torrent. Or that it will back up and come out my tear ducts.
Criss-crossing the way across the US as a kid, we would make our way from rest stop to rest stop, little Helen running from the car with a look of sheer terror on her face and screaming: "Get out of the way! Get out of the way! For the love of God, mankind and the Smurfs, GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
Moving to Sweden was liberating. In Sweden, I learnt the Swedish way: When you've gotta' go, you've gotta' go. If it's not obscene, go ahead and whip it out or squat and let it flow. No longer was I chained to the foul sewage stench of rest stops, oh no! I had the great outdoors! Sides of the road, behind trees, in alleys between parked cars! I'm not saying you drop trou in the middle of the shopping center-more like the tree-lined parking lot outside of it. The world was a wide open possibility of places to urinate, it was my pearl from my oyster, my very own release from the stresses of always making sure there was a floating ball in my recipient receptacle! I was free! Weeing was heaven!
From then on, I looked at the world in terms of possibilities-all I needed was a kleenex in my pocket/handbag/car. Where once a field looked restrictive, now it presented the possibility of numerous squatting places. Where once a drunken night at the bar meant lurching from McDonald's to McDonald's, it now meant that the snow between the parked cars was fair game! I was free!
And now in England, I feel more restrictive. My tiny bladder and I can safely visit fields and trees in secluded areas, but no longer can relief be found behind a parked car. There are rules. There are frowns from society.
But even more so, there is CCTV, and with one camera for every four people here, I really don't think they need a shot of my beaver as I squat and relieve.
Yesterday morning I was in bed asleep when I heard an amazingly loud sound. I blinked, wondering what was up. I awoke to Mr. Y looking at me, seeing if I heard, and when he thought I hadn't, he was off for his morning bathroom routine.
Oh but I did hear, my darling, I did.
And later, when I asked Mr. Y about it, he pinked up and shrugged, saying "It's hard to control what you can't see."
This is like reaching a mature stage of a relationship. We have indeed come to terms with bodily functions-him with mine when I was fucked-up hungover one morning and I went in to tinkle while he was brushing his teeth, and I broke the lid on the seal a few times. I was too sick to care. And when we had a wonderful dinner the other night packed with red onions, we simply made a pact between us that any hot air that moved would be overlooked, ignored, and never spoken of.
I can pee in front of him, I simply don't care. In fact, with a bladder like mine, I could wee in front of the Pope, the President, Big-Ear Tony, and even John Cusack. No one is above me holding it for. But Mr. Y can only pee in front of me if I don't actively look at him.
One day I put my head over his shoulder, I wanted to observe the process.
I felt him go tense.
Droplets came.
I kept staring.
He froze up.
"Do you have to stare?" he asks.
"Does it make it crawl back up?" I reply as the stream starts again.
More droplets. "Doesn't come very fast." I remark. "And your willy looks a bit like a tube worm when you pee."
"That's not very nice."
"A really cute tube worm."
I keep staring, as it comes in fits and bursts.
"Is it supposed to come in fits and bursts?" I ask. "Do you need me to snap on gloves and ask you to cough?"
"Quit staring at me."
"Is your urine usually that color?"
"Quit staring at me."
"Do boys use toilet paper when they pee? Like, a little sqaure? See, with that skin there I bet-"
"For God's sake, Helen, quit staring at me and get out!"
Hmph. And he was cute while he peed, too. No splashback or anything.
We draw the line at what we call private moments. The door gets closed and no one is present in the room. We may love each other and want to share, but there are limits.
As far as private moments go, when I have them, I need to be alone. If anyone is nearby (besides Mr. Y, whom I am only just getting used to this), I will run the water in the sink. In Sweden, the toilets were fantastic-your own little room to handle your own transactions. In England, you at least have privacy doors, but I remember more than one time in the US when I hoped to God that the women would just leave the room so I could get on with it. There can be no private moment with others in the bathroom. I just can't do it.
I'm not going to go into them here, I have phobias, you know.
I decide to ask Mr. Y about his life as a male with male toilets. You know. Bring out the anthropologist in me (who says anthropology always has to be about the Dobe! Kung? Don't we already have them figured out now?)
"Can you have a private moment at work, in a stall?" I ask.
He shrugs. "Yeah."
"Do you care if people can hear you?"
"Not really."
"And at the urinal, how close can the other guy be to you?" I ask, thinking of men lined up around a porcelain queen at a football game.
"You can stand side by side, but no touching."
"Not even a little bit?"
"No."
"What if their shirt brushes you?"
"You don't mention it. Or look at them."
"Can men share one urinal? Like if it's not a communal thing and you really have to go?"
"Absolutely not. There can be no sharing."
"Do you aim for the cookie?"
"Not usually-there can be splashback from that."
I was like Jane Goodall, exploring the chimpanzees. Dian Fossey sitting and scratching a silverback. This was a whole new world. I mean-lots of people (like Jim and Emily) blog about bathroom humor. But this was actual learning, an alien species opening up to me. It was seeing the Victor side of the Victoria, complete with the willy drip (as Mr. Y calls it. I like to call it "shaking the dew off the lily" but no one gets it).
"What's the worst thing that happens in the men's toilet?" I ask.
"If a guy pushes you in the back, either intentionally or not. There's nothing you can do. You're going to be a sprinkler of urine. There will be splashage. It makes one angry." he says, nonchalantly. "I did it to my mate Leon. It makes him furious, but so worth it, once you get out of hitting range."
I tilt my head.
"Do men break wind while peeing?"
He thinks. "It can be done."
"No, I mean, if you have one stored up, can you break it while peeing standing up?"
"Absolutely!"
"Does that cause mortification at the urinal?"
"Absolutely not. It's to be congratulated!"
"What?" I ask, confused.
"Absolutely, if one guy farts the others will compliment him in some form. My standby is I say 'Name that tune!' And if he can a merry tune out of it, it's congrats all around!"
Oh.
My.
God.
"Seriously?" I ask, my photojournalism anthropology career in shock at the new revelations.
"Sure." he says honestly. "Don't women do that?"
"NEVER!" I squeak. "That is the act which shall not be named! We do the toilet paper whiz and spin to cover up the sound of it! How awful!"
So it's true, then.
Women are dainty, delicate creatures who abhor breaking wind.
Men are like Porky's caricatures, and definitely in touch with their inner phlegmatic.
My anthropology work here is done. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to the field-er, I mean, the toilet.
-H.
Posted by Everydaystranger at August 25, 2004 06:17 AM .http://blog2.mu.nu/cgi/trackback.cgi/42356
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Excerpt: I have a phobia. I always lock the bathroom door door while I'm making a Major Transaction. It's something I've always done, and still do. Even when I'm the only one home, I'll lock the door. I also hate to make a Major Transaction anyw
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Tracked: October 20, 2004 08:22 PM
You crack me up! I totally have a tiny bladder as well and know where the bathrooms are in every place in the city. I like to attempt to hold my hubs wee while he pees it ticks him off! Once he let me hold it then do the shake at the end, I thinkI shook with too much enthusiasm for I am not allowed anymore/
Posted by: cheryl at August 26, 2004 03:28 PMYou've just discovered the nursery rhyme is true as to what girls and boys are made of. Except it's all bollocks.
Posted by: Simon at August 26, 2004 10:39 AMhahaha I am not the only one who used to cite the smurfs!!! I watched them yesterday morning and in french they are called Les Schtroumpfs (sp?)
but I have the opposite problem. I think when I was in the womb the neurons got their wires crossed and gave me a stomach the size my bladder was supposed to be and a bladder the size of most peoples stomach.
Therefore in my group of friends I have earned the title "Camel." But like you, when I got to go I GOT TO GO like NOW. No warning either.
Posted by: stinkerbell at August 26, 2004 08:55 AMThere we have it, folks-Nickel is my 6000th comment.
:)
Posted by: Helen at August 26, 2004 06:52 AMMy friend experienced her first shared fart on a date. He turned to her and said “Greetings, from the interior!”
Posted by: Annie at August 26, 2004 03:41 AMMan you sound like me. My bladder is the size of a pea!
Posted by: Snidget at August 26, 2004 01:52 AMMy boyfriend broke the fart barrier about 3 months into our relationship, with the now immortal words, "I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine --"
Posted by: nickel at August 26, 2004 12:00 AMI'm surprised no one brought up the "look Ma', no hands" while at the urinal or the shake vs. tap tap technique!
Posted by: gym rat at August 25, 2004 08:28 PMUTI! That's what you can get if you hold it!
And the splashback on the vomit? Yeah. There went my dinner. And I made sure I stood back when it happened :)
Glad to see I am not the only one with a potty mouth-er, I mean-story.
Posted by: Helen at August 25, 2004 08:20 PMThe Swedish way is great...isn't it? *grin*
Personally I can't say that I've ever had a thought about abandon the possibility to use it whenever I have to. As you say, it's just a matter of adjusting it a bit before you pull down those panties ;)
Oh...and if you don't go when you need too you can also end up with a nasty urinary infection.
Ever heard of poop anxiety? Some people that go to public bathrooms cant take a dump unless no one is in there. Then if someone else comes in they can't stop laughing.
Posted by: pylorns at August 25, 2004 07:54 PMI have to disagree with your hypothesis that women are dainty... at least in some circumstances... While I don't like to fart in public restrooms, I have been known to let loose in store aisles when no one is around and then to move on quickly to the next aisle.
But I am pee shy .... and I think I'm one of the only women I know who's incapable of squatting over a toilet without much difficulty. (See the pee shyness.)
Posted by: martha at August 25, 2004 07:04 PMI don't know if it's apocryphal or not, but supposedly an Indian man who lived in a small enclosed apartment suffocated himself with his 'gaseous emissions' - my husband calls them 'fluffs' so I'm not as offended.
I had reason to wonder if this was in fact true while vacationing in Berchtesgaden where my husband ate a huge bowl of sauerkraut EVERY NIGHT!!! I tried to delicately ignore it in the way of southern ladies, but by the second morning, I was yelling at him and waking him up by hitting him with a pillow to get him OUT of the bedroom. My God!
(And we've been married seven years+. I am VERY happy with separate toilet areas. It's a main requirement for any apartment we rent.)
That was wonderful!
My wife is the same...she pees before we leave, on the way there, and once we get there. Drives me nuts!
I don't believe I've ever read anything this humorous written about urinating. Terrific writing!
Posted by: Mick at August 25, 2004 06:23 PMNo, Gudy, you have to take them off first. And wash them too....!
LOL.
And Gudy, the worse kind of splashback is when you go to throw up in a public toilet and it splashes back in YOUR EYE!!!!! I mean it looked like it had been flushed, but how can you be sure? My doctor laughed his ass off at me when I told him what I'd done, ( I'd called to find out what kind of diseases were going to rot my brain from my eye.) Which by the way, he said the probability of catching anything was slim to none. Still though, it was MY EYE!
"It's hard to control what you can't see." LMAO.
When I broke wind for the first time in front of my last girlfriend, she put it like this,"If you can't hold it in your hands, you can't hold it."
OMG, Helen, this was hysterically funny!
Couple of things: Daughter Lucy has the same bladder you do. She's 26 now and I've given up hope that she'll grow out of it. Her boyfriend calls her "P-Mo". She pees alllll the time. I, OTOH, have a bladder the size of Donna's; I can go a very long time without peeing. So I guess some things are not passed on generation to generation.
Next, when Dan and I first became intimate, I used the whole run-water-in-the-sink and flush-at-the-same-time masking technique too. One day, not long into our relationship, but after a night on the town eating things no humans should regularly eat, I asked Dan when I got back into bed if he could "hear" me in there.
He said, oh yes, I can hear everything. Your clever toilet-flushing ruse doesn't hide a thing.
I was so mortified he had to spend the next few hours telling me he didn't care, that he loved me anyway, I was human, it was allowed, etc., etc.
I'm still shy about all that. I still flush a lot and hope for the best.
Last, I remember gushing to my brother over the phone about this new man I'd fallen in love with: Dan. How wonderful Dan was, how Dan walked on water, how Dan was the best thing since sliced bread, how Dan was a veritable GOD! You know, basically babbling like an idiot about my infatuation with Dan...and my brother finally said, as a reality check, "One day, dear sister...the farts will come! Oh sure...it's all great now...but.." *lowers voice to a hiss*.."the farts *will* come...oh yes.."
*sigh* Don't they always?
Posted by: Amber at August 25, 2004 04:50 PM*LOL*
I believe you've inspired another post. Neither of my daughters is the slightest bit dainty when it comes to bodily functions, and they've both learned to turn the tables on Dad when it comes to the Pull-My-Finger game.
Mil Millimgton has collected a whole bunch of stories about 'Loos Of The World' or LOTW for short. You can find it here:
http://www.mil-millington.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/lavvy.htm
One of the stories is mine, thank you very much.
Posted by: Easy at August 25, 2004 03:23 PMteehee, i love "name that tune!" that's a riot!
incidentally, growing up "fart" was a swear word at my house.
Posted by: kat at August 25, 2004 02:43 PMUm, yeah, they soooo fatr while peeing. I've been witness to it more times than I can count. And then, of course, they blame it on the dog.
Posted by: emily at August 25, 2004 02:38 PMDonna, I know that yeast infections are ugly, but ironing your crotch?! Yikes, that has to hurt like hell! ;-)
melanie, for some kinds of toilets, dropping a sheet or two of toilet paper is the only way to prevent not only splashing noises, but actual splashes, and while I can deal with splashback from my own urine (after all, its mostly water and almost sterile to boot), *that* kind of splashback is to be avoided.
And lest I embarass myself here, I will keep mum about how long it took me to have any idea about what you meant with "breaking the lid on the seal". What ever happend to words like piss, fart, and shit? They're short, to the point, and everyone knows what's what.
Posted by: Gudy at August 25, 2004 02:28 PMJust for the record, something CAN be done about guys pushing you from behind. Put a hand or forearm against the wall above the urinal and use the other hand to take care of business. The forearm on the wall gives you leverage against any would be assailants and ensures one hand is free for hitting. And during peace time, it gives one a nice head rest:)
Posted by: Solomon at August 25, 2004 02:25 PMMan's biggest fear while at the urinal:
He will catch someone having a look.
Man's second biggest fear:
Wearing khaki trousers and encountering splashback from the guy next to him, or his own.
Whilst at Twickernam one year in the blazing sun, my mate was in the gents bog and the guy next to him managed to get splash back all up my mate's arm..... nice!
Posted by: Tilesey at August 25, 2004 01:37 PMSheeze - did my potty-humor post yesterday inspire you?
I know a guy who can pee at a range of about 30 feet (10 meters) or more. I'm not sure how he ever learned to do this, but he really, really squeezes his pecker and just shoots. I don't know how he hasn't rutured something doing that.
I once had someone tell me, and to a degree I believe it's true: Sex is the most over-rated thing in the world, and a good piss is the most underrated. Think about that the next time you've had 3-4 beers between bathroom trips....
Posted by: Clancy at August 25, 2004 01:23 PMLOL! That was hysterical!
Alas, you have inspired tonight's blog post. You crack me up.
Posted by: Boudicca at August 25, 2004 01:21 PMI have been blessed with a bladder the size of a horse's, so I literally can go before I leave for work in the morning, and then not go again until I get home. Never wake up in the middle of the night to go, get me behind the wheel, (I have a motorhome I take on vacation), and I can drive all day, and everyone else just gets up and goes while I'm driving. Never get yeast infections, never had any bladder or kidney trouble. My mom and sister though, they go like you, every 5 minutes, and have bladder infections all the time.
The ONLY time I've had any kind of problems with that is after I've been catheterized for surgery, or when I broke my leg, and that screws me all up. It's not made to have anything in there.
And if you get up, wash with soap, and then pee after sex, you'll not get infections either, it has worked for me for years and years.
If you've had yeast infections, and can't bleach your underwear, iron the crotch, just washing them in hot water and soap doesn't get rid of it, and you'll get it again.
Sorry I got preachy.......breaking the seal? We call it repressurization! You crack me up.
mr ph can't go if I'm watching him either.
I used to work with a girl who'd always drop a few sheets of paper in the loo before "going". Prevents plopping and/or splashing sounds. :)
Posted by: melanie at August 25, 2004 11:32 AMWhen I stop laughing, I might come back and leave a serious comment. Nonetheless, who says fart jokes are only funny for kids. "Broke the seal on the lid", indeed.
Posted by: RP at August 25, 2004 10:57 AMOh. My. G-d. I'm still laughing (on the inside, as it's 5:20 a.m., and everyone is asleep). "The act which shall not be named," I love it.
You're a card, Helen.
Posted by: Jiminy at August 25, 2004 10:40 AMSo I take it you've never heard about how guys in fraternities or into jack ass stunts light their farts on fire and have contests to see who can shoot the largest flame out their backside?
And btw I am still ROTFLMAO at that description. It reminds me of a short story George Orwell once wrote about urine trouble when he was convalecing (sp?) in hospital. I reckon that story may have influenced many a John Irving scene e.g. "The Water Method Man". In short your choice of subject matter as well as your writing ability places you with the literary greats :-)
As for your observations I feel Mr Y's pain! There is actually a name for the problem he and I and millions of other guys share: "Bashful Bladder"!
And yeah I used to wonder if I was the only guy who pulled my foreskin back a millimeter or two and dabbed with a square of tissue instead of just furiously shaking dry. I mean I don't think I'm being too festidious by wishing to avoid shaking a drop of urine randomly in such a way that it could land on my trousers! Oh well.
Posted by: Steve P at August 25, 2004 08:57 AMoh my god oh my god you need this thing they have here in Japan -- because women are so self-conscious about the sounds they make in the bathroom, they often flush the toilet while they go, to cover the sounds, but that's a waste of water. So Toto invented this thing that makes an artificial flushing sound that runs the sound of running water for 20-30 seconds. Actually some toilets have seats that automatically activate a flushing sound when you sit down so you don't even have to turn on the thing. Here's a link: http://web-japan.org/kidsweb/techno/toilet/women.html
And for those that what the ultimate in toilet comfort in their own homes, there's the Toto Washlet. They're common here in Japan, even in public restrooms, although the ones for your home don't seem to have the artificial flushing sound thingie. Here's another link: http://www.washlet.com/
Posted by: reflection at August 25, 2004 08:01 AM