SQUIRTS

*sigh*

So, the other weekend, I was so excited to be catching up with my cousin Mez, and the prospect of spending a day shopping and chatting was wonderful.

Mez had told me about a TS+14 factory outlet in Abbotsford, so we made a date to meet down there, and do some shopping and have some lunch.

So, before I leave home, I decide to try out the new tub of Celebrity Slim powdered protein before I go.  I like to have the Celebrity Slim shakes for breakfast sometimes, and when I was shopping for some more the other day, I saw this bulk tub of the powder and thought ‘Self; why not by the tub, cos it will be like totes cheaper than the sachets’.  (I actually do think like that). 

Yeaheah! I’m a fucken genius!

So I make up my shake, jump in the car, and off I go.

Now, cos I have this groovy little iphone holder for my car, I thought I would try out the Google Maps app on it to test how it goes, because I don’t know where the fuck I’m going.

However, it takes me about twenty minutes to learn that this stupid app is only good if you’re in any other seat bar the drivers, because you cannot seriously watch the stupid screen (which always goes black after a few minutes) and the road at the same time.  Plus, I need someone to tell me where to turn and which exit form a roundabout I need to take… I don’t want to have to figure it all out myself.

So I pull over, drag out my old GPS, which is so out of date it gets me lost, but I figure it will be all right going into the city, and set him up to rock n’ roll.

Stupid fucken iphone.

Anyway, I’m cruising along St George’s Road, somewhere near Preston or Fawkner or Northcote or something… I don’t know… and my stomach starts to churn.

Oh sweet Jesus no….

I’ve had nothing other than my slim shake and a banana to eat… surely it wouldn’t be the shake… I have these stupid things all the time and they usually don’t upset my tummy… surely not…

Churn… churn… church… great.  Well, the factory outlet should have a toilet, so I’ll christen that when I get there.

Suddenly, my iphone does what it’s actually meant to, and starts ringing, startling me so much that I nearly evacuate my bowels on the spot.

‘Hello?’

‘Hello honey!’

‘MEZZZA!!!!’

‘Where the fuck are you?’

‘On St George’s Road somewhere..’

‘That means fuck all to me…’

‘Ha!’ Mary’s not at all familiar with this side of the city… ‘I’m about half an hour away.  You said 9.30, right?’

‘Yeah… but it didn’t take me anywhere near as long to get here as I thought.  So I’m here, and they’re already open.’

‘Go in and have a wander around my love.  I shan’t be far away.’

‘No worries love.’

‘Tell me… do they have a toilet there?’

‘No honey.  They’re fucken useless.’

Holy crap.  ‘Okay mate.  I may have to make a pit stop before I get there, but I’ll be there as quickly as I can.

I hang up, pull into the nearest Macca’s (lucky I was driving right past one), and make a discreet dash to the toilet, all the while wondering if I should buy something so I don’t feel so guilty about using their facilities (which were spotlessly clean, by the way.  No hand sanitizer required).

However, after my last rosti wrap experience, I figure I’d be in even more bowel strife if I bought something, so I opt for just bolting out the door.

Fuck me, it must have been the shake.  Maybe it has more lactose in it than the sachets?  All I need now is the squirts… how can I shop all morning with that shit (pardon the pun) going on, and no fucken toilet?

So, I head off again; destination Abbotsford, and I fly along through the outer city suburbs through non-existent traffic.  Fuck, why couldn’t it be like this all the time?

Just as I find the outlet, my stomach starts doing summersaults again.  Oh no… not again? Wtf?

I park the car, stumble into the outlet, and find Mary in one of the isles, arms laden with clothes to try.

Kisses and hugs (as well as you can with 50 million garments in the way), and I ask ‘So they definitely don’t have a toilet here?’

‘No.  But, last time I was here, they let me use theirs; otherwise you had to go to the café up the corner.’

Great.  ‘You go try your goodies on, and I’ll ask if I can use the facilities.’

I wander up to the counter, and politely ask if they have a toilet I can use.  The sales assistant gives me a disapproving look, and says ‘well, we have our private toilets out the back, which I can take you too.  Normally, we shouldn’t do this…’

‘I’m surprised you don’t have toilets here, actually.  With all the shopping tour buses and stuff coming through…’

‘Yeah… I don’t know why they don’t either.’ She agrees, leading me out to the warehouse.  ‘The toilets are just over there.’ she points through the racks, and I wander off.

Now, you know how anal (again, pardon the pun) I am about toilets.  Right at this point in time, she could have pointed to a bucket in the middle of Bourke Street, and I possibly would’ve used it.

Instead, I’m greeted with clean, basic toilets that give me a lot more than simple relief.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m wandering around the clothing racks, when it hits me again.  You have got to be fucken kidding me…

It’s a warm day, I’m uncomfortable, my arse ring is on fire, and need to go again?  This can’t be happening…

I can’t ask them again.  I can’t.  They’ll think I’m fucken mental.

I go to find Mary, who’s still going nuts in the change room.

‘Honey, I’m going to have to go again.  I’ll dash up to the corner café.’

‘No worries honey.  Are you okay?’

‘Not really.  Something’s upset my stomach.  I’ll be back soon.’ I say, and leave her there, happily trying on more clothes.

So, it’s a lovely sunny day in Melbourne, and I’m semi sprinting up the street to a funky looking providor, who I very gingerly ask if she has a toilet I could use.

I get the eye roll, and she reluctantly shows me through to back area of the shop.  I thank her repetitively as she leaves me to evacuate my dignity in this ridiculously oversized toilet that seems to be doubling as a storage room.  Great.  At least it’s clean (and has hand sanitizer).

‘Thank you so much for letting my use your facilities.’ I rave as I walk back into the shop.  ‘You have no idea how appreciative I am.’

She smiles finally. ‘It’s okay.  I completely understand.  We get ladies in from TS all the time, because they have no toilets.’

How the fuck did she know I was from TS?  Is it because I’m a hefalump and TS is for fat chicks?

‘I can’t believe it either.’

‘They get buses there all the time… I don’t know what they do to cater for them?’ she gets all chatty now, leaning against the counter as she speaks.

‘Well, I’ve just driven an hour and a half from the sticks, and I can’t fucken believe it either.’  Which is true.  We crap on together for about another five minutes, before she’s totally in love with me, and I leave her to her work.

I return to the outlet to find Mary sitting on a chair at the counter (she has very unstable legs), waiting for me.

‘How did you go?’ we both ask each other at once, and laugh.

‘I’m okay.’ I said.  ‘But seriously, I’m going to need to go again.’ I can’t believe it.  My stomach just won’t stop churning!  ‘I can’t go back to the café, and I can’t ask TS again…’

The shop assistant joins us, and is about to ring up Mary’s clothes, when Mary asks ‘Can my cousin use your toilets again… she’s not feeling very well…’  Good on ya, Mez.

I blush furiously as the shop assistant gives me a look from head to toe, and turns to the other sales assistant.  ‘Can this lady use the toilets… again.’  The sales assistant that looked after me the first time, gives me the ‘again?’ look, and I die a thousand deaths as my stomach churns even more.

Dear God; kill me now.

‘Sure.’ She sighs, and leads me out the back again.  This time, she waits with me, because clearly, I’m going to steal everything from their fucken storeroom. 

So imagine this.  I’ve got the runs, and I’m sitting in a staff toilet in the middle of a warehouse, behind a factory outlet in Abbotsford, trying not to die of embarrassment, and evacuate my bowels as quietly as possible, which is impossible, whilst a sales assistant stands near the toilets waiting for me.

My day just couldn’t get any better.

As I emerge from the toilets, I find the sales assistant standing quite a distance away from the toilets, near the entrance to the outlet.  Thanks for not standing right outside the door where you could hear every farty noise my arse was making.  Dear God…

I thank her profusely, and suddenly, she becomes quite concerned.  I explain that I think my breakfast has simply upset my stomach as we walk back into the outlet.

I find Mary at the counter waiting for me.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Shithouse.  Pardon the pun.’ I smile.  ‘You know what?  I need to go somewhere, have a cuppa and some panadol, and chill out.’ I declare.  ‘I need to settle my stomach down, because I want to have a wander around the racks here, but I can’t with my tummy churning so much.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’ Mary smiles.  ‘Where shall we go?’

‘Well, there is a coffee shop up the corner, or we can find a Macca’s on Nicholson Street.  They will have toilets and we can have a cuppa there too.’

Ten minutes later, we’re pulling up in front of a small Macca’s on Nicholson Street, which is attached to a Caltex servo.  I buy some panadol (great binder if you have the runs) and we sit down to a nice relaxing cuppa in Maccas.

It takes about half an hour for the panadol and the tea to take effect, and an hour later, Mary and I are back at TS14+ trying on more clothes and having a great time, my squirty adventures of the morning becoming a distant (embarrassing and inconvenient) memory.

I swear, when I’m elderly, that I’ll be one of those annoying old biddy’s in the nursing home that shits herself all the time, because she has no control of her bowels and can’t stomach anything that she’s fed.

I guess I can take comfort in the knowledge that experiencing this will be great revenge on the fucken dumbarse Gen Yer’s that will have to look after me.  Suckers.

As for my Celebrity Slim shake?  I think I may just water it down a touch…

Peace out.