Princess of Irony

A molting Kimono dragon with wicked-bad flatulence...

Issue Date: Thursday, Mar. 25, 2004

This one�s gonna be short as I am leaving early to go to Florida today for the start of our long, debauchery filled weekend!

At 3:30 pm, Mister will arrive at my office in his shiny Lincoln LS to whisk me away to Dallas Love Field. We will then park the LS and make our way to the curbside check in, all the while muttering curses at our exceptionally heavy luggage. The sky caps will take our luggage and curse the heaviness while we bribe them with money not to loose said luggage on purpose just because it is heavy and we are a pain in their shorts wearin, Southwest airlines working butts.

Onward to the gate we will traverse to find that even though we are the first ones there for our flight. Ninja boarding will ensue� guaranteeing we will be crammed into a row with a mouth breather named Urn and his brood of eleventy-four dirty Wal-Mart-feet-having chillins. Said chillin will be directly behind us, pushing on our seats with their dirty bare feet and scabby knees the whole way into Austin. Austin, where we will deplane for approximately 45 seconds and then jump on another Greyhound in the sky for the remainder of our trip into Orlando. Landing at 11:45pm.

I am SO excited!

They could sit me next to a molting Kimono dragon with wicked-bad flatulence and I wouldn�t care. A Holy Roller who insists on singing �Holy, Holy, Holy� the whole way� in monotone� with a triangle to punctuate every syllable, and I wouldn�t care. Jim Carey doing that awful �AEHEHEHEHEHEEHENGH� noise from Dumb and Dumber and I wouldn�t care. Sade singing Smooth Operator� wait. Well, that would convince me to puncture my own ear drums with the dirty pinky finger of Urn�s second youngest� Sharmaine Sheniqua.

We�re going away for the weekend!

This is gonna be Great!

This morning, at 5am� why 5 am? Because we are certifiably insane, thanks for askin. This morning at 5 am, I am sleepily sitting on the potty tinkling. I finish and take some toilet paper from the roll. Mister looks over and [with all the annoyance he could muster] says, �THAT � right there *points* is why our toilet gets clogged up.�

I looked down to find a reasonable 4 foot expanse of double ply Charmin� in my hand. Rolled into the requisite �around the hand, slide off the hand then bunch up into a pleasing wad of softness� method.

I could only blink. Is Mister a 4-square kinda guy? I may use the toilet paper in the patented �Don�t Want Anything Touching My Hand� method, sure, but it isn�t enough to clog the toilet� is it?

Is my experience at work with the inferior toilet paper coloring my actions at home?

Have I told you guys about the inferior toilet paper at work? No? Well, that is most likely because I�m not a big, �Oh Look! I got a little pee on my hand!� type of share-er.

Yep, I�ve done it. Numerous times at work.

[shaking hands] Nice to meet you Mister President of Non-Profit Guy!

Yes, I wash, nay boil my hands when the above unfortunate accident occurs. And you wonder why I own stock in Purel�?

It is humiliating.

I have been doing this particular act or motion for nigh on 30-something years. Why am I having such a difficult time now? No clue.

I sit the same.

I tinkle the same.

I wipe the same.

What�s the deal?

It never happens at home, with the wonderful fluffy cloud toilet paper.

I�m gonna blame the John Wayne toilet paper at work. You�re with me right?

Hey� where are you going?