9 thoughts on “What I think of line dancing and karaoke…”
I’m pretty sure 2:30-3:00am tacos have led to all 3 being released in the same night…
I’m still working on a hot sauce that will introduce plasma into that equation.
Yeah, I’d like to observe THAT one!
…from a really safe distance.
Last time I indulged in hot stuff at a Mexican restaurant 180 miles from home, I over indulged to my detriment the next day. I was grateful the interstate hgwy’s I was traveling on had rest stops every 50 miles or so. I had to stop at every one of them. That green chile sauce was tasty, but deadly.
I know. TMI.
TMI? Here’s some TMI. Back in the day I was friends with a woman who raced for the Kahlua Women’s Cycling Team (pro team). So we’re at the Hunter Mountain (NY) NORBA race. There’s a pre-race dinner for the pros at this Mexican place. The girls have an extra ticket so they sneak me in. (It was cool because I’m rubbing elbows with Ned Overend, Julie Furtado, etc.) We’re served burritos that turned out to be frozen inside. But being young and ravenous (like 3-4000 calories/day ravenous) we crunch those fuckers down. This was like 8pm.
At 2am I woke in agony. Really really needed to shit. I’m in a three-unit “B&B” with one toilet. Toilet is occupied and inside someone is moaning in pain while ripping out loud farts and nasty liquid noises. I look out the window to see if I can find a bush to shit behind. Damn place is covered with motion sensitive spotlights and cleared of brush to boot. Finally I notice that the waste basket in my room is one-piece plastic. Desperate time call for desperate measures and all that. I must have crapped nearly two quarts of liquid feces. Oh god it was awful. Next morning 7am I crawled into my clothes, stole a roll of toilet paper from the hall closet and walked across the street to the cheap motel where the girls were staying.
Their door was open and the lights were off. After the bright summer morning sun it was a Stygian pit of darkness inside, and it really really stank. Apparently all four of them were sick as well, and it went on all night. One would shit, and the stench made the others want to puke, so they had it going both ends until about 5am. “I brought toilet paper,” I announced. My friend T crawled out of bed. “Thank god. We ran out around 3am. I could kiss you, but …” she waved vaguely around the reeking room, “you know.”
Normally being in a motel room with four phenomenally fit and athletic girls each wearing nothing but a t-shirt sounds like a Good Thing (especially when you’re a fit, healthy 25-yo yourself) but at that point I just wanted out of there. I’m getting queasy just remembering that stench.
But come 1pm they were all in the Pro Women’s race. I was photographing and doing some pit (aid station) support. I caught T between her 2nd and 3rd lap. “Whaddya need?” (Meaning water, defizzed Coke, juice, Powerbar…) She didn’t stop but shouted “a diaper!” over her shoulder as she went by. There was a lot of informal pit stops to shit in the woods that day. Damned burritos messed up nearly the entire Pro field.
Years later I learned enough to identify the culprit as Cliostriidium perfringens poisoning. Went back through the weekly Federal public health bulletins and it was never reported! (Normally food poisoning affecting literally hundreds is highly reportable.)
OK, you win ;-))
We’re all winners here at BN, Nemo!
@CederQ: I went into medicine because I failed out of my engineering PhD. It turns out that if you have zero aptitude for, and below zero interest in, something then that something is difficult to do. Who knew?
Mike_C, is that the impetus for you to decide on medicine and particular career path. And rejection of being a Proctologist? And invariably your life choices?
I’m pretty sure 2:30-3:00am tacos have led to all 3 being released in the same night…
I’m still working on a hot sauce that will introduce plasma into that equation.
Yeah, I’d like to observe THAT one!
…from a really safe distance.
Last time I indulged in hot stuff at a Mexican restaurant 180 miles from home, I over indulged to my detriment the next day. I was grateful the interstate hgwy’s I was traveling on had rest stops every 50 miles or so. I had to stop at every one of them. That green chile sauce was tasty, but deadly.
I know. TMI.
TMI? Here’s some TMI. Back in the day I was friends with a woman who raced for the Kahlua Women’s Cycling Team (pro team). So we’re at the Hunter Mountain (NY) NORBA race. There’s a pre-race dinner for the pros at this Mexican place. The girls have an extra ticket so they sneak me in. (It was cool because I’m rubbing elbows with Ned Overend, Julie Furtado, etc.) We’re served burritos that turned out to be frozen inside. But being young and ravenous (like 3-4000 calories/day ravenous) we crunch those fuckers down. This was like 8pm.
At 2am I woke in agony. Really really needed to shit. I’m in a three-unit “B&B” with one toilet. Toilet is occupied and inside someone is moaning in pain while ripping out loud farts and nasty liquid noises. I look out the window to see if I can find a bush to shit behind. Damn place is covered with motion sensitive spotlights and cleared of brush to boot. Finally I notice that the waste basket in my room is one-piece plastic. Desperate time call for desperate measures and all that. I must have crapped nearly two quarts of liquid feces. Oh god it was awful. Next morning 7am I crawled into my clothes, stole a roll of toilet paper from the hall closet and walked across the street to the cheap motel where the girls were staying.
Their door was open and the lights were off. After the bright summer morning sun it was a Stygian pit of darkness inside, and it really really stank. Apparently all four of them were sick as well, and it went on all night. One would shit, and the stench made the others want to puke, so they had it going both ends until about 5am. “I brought toilet paper,” I announced. My friend T crawled out of bed. “Thank god. We ran out around 3am. I could kiss you, but …” she waved vaguely around the reeking room, “you know.”
Normally being in a motel room with four phenomenally fit and athletic girls each wearing nothing but a t-shirt sounds like a Good Thing (especially when you’re a fit, healthy 25-yo yourself) but at that point I just wanted out of there. I’m getting queasy just remembering that stench.
But come 1pm they were all in the Pro Women’s race. I was photographing and doing some pit (aid station) support. I caught T between her 2nd and 3rd lap. “Whaddya need?” (Meaning water, defizzed Coke, juice, Powerbar…) She didn’t stop but shouted “a diaper!” over her shoulder as she went by. There was a lot of informal pit stops to shit in the woods that day. Damned burritos messed up nearly the entire Pro field.
Years later I learned enough to identify the culprit as Cliostriidium perfringens poisoning. Went back through the weekly Federal public health bulletins and it was never reported! (Normally food poisoning affecting literally hundreds is highly reportable.)
OK, you win ;-))
We’re all winners here at BN, Nemo!
@CederQ: I went into medicine because I failed out of my engineering PhD. It turns out that if you have zero aptitude for, and below zero interest in, something then that something is difficult to do. Who knew?
Mike_C, is that the impetus for you to decide on medicine and particular career path. And rejection of being a Proctologist? And invariably your life choices?
Wonder what it measured on the Richter scale