Note: Tonight I was feeling all Sally Homemaker and decided to make cookies. Healthy cookies. As in “replace all the sugar with Splenda™, most of the butter with applesauce, and the eggs with EggBeaters™” healthy. I tried to play God, and I failed. The unspoken commandment: “Thou shalt not muck around with the Nestle Tollhouse Cookie™ recipe on the back of the chocolate chip bag. It’s that way for a reason.”
The only thing that could be done was to use the remaining dough to make a disgusting monster cookie, oozing with nothing tasty. The normal cookie to the left is placed to show the massive size of the Monster Cookie™.
NOW, for the promised “bathroom story” from Friday night:
Before telling this, let me note that alcohol did not play a role in these events. It was present, but I was pretty much stone cold sober when this happened. Yes, I’m this big a dipshit all on my own…
We were out at an Irish Pub in Raleigh, and the girls, as girls are known to do, decided to take a communal jaunt to the loo. I was in the non-handicapped stall, multi-tasking by urinating, deleting junk off my digital camera, and listening to KBG and LBG chatter from the stall beside me.
(Note: sometimes they get to gabbing and wander into bathroom stalls together. I’m not here to judge them for this behavior, but it factors into the story.)
So LBG says, “Ooh, I’m going to take a picture of you!” And KBG squeals, “Nooooo, don’t!” (Because she’s on the toilet, see?)
I decide to be funny, and since I have my camera in my hand, I say, “Oh, let me get one of you both!” and stick the camera underneath the stall divider and press the button.
The next thing we all knew, a fourth, previously unannounced bathroom user yelps, “Oh my god! I'm not your friends! There is someone else in here!”
You can imagine how embarrassed mortified I was. I shouted out, “OMG, I am SO SORRY! The picture didn’t even take! I thought you were someone else! OMG IamsosorryIamsosorry!” (This is true; for once I was thankful that my “going out camera” is a POS and randomly shuts itself off while in use.)
LBP and KBG, always supportive, were leaning on the wall and sink respectively, gasping for air through their laughter.
Luckily, the “other woman” was quite a good sport about the whole thing. Or at least she pretended to be.