While most moms sit around and think of their kids next soccer game, I, on the other hand, take a sick interest in thinking of more appropriate names for Porta-Potty mobile toilets.
On a recent outing, after consuming 3 large bottles of water, I was in dire need of finding a bathroom. But the only thing that was around was the infamous plastic outhouse sitting in the center of a wide open expanse of grass.
As I tentatively opened the plastic door of this rocky preschool shit machine, I try desperately to not make eye contact with what appeared in the toilet to be the inners of the entire eastern seaboard.
It was unusually balmy that day, so it was hot in there. Like an Ezy-Bake oven for shit.
As an added bonus, it was also sporting an aggressive tropical humidity index as well.
I scan the walls for gekkos and tree frogs but all I find stuck to the ceiling was some mysterious brown spots and a never before seen rare breed of used toilet paper that was about 3 seconds from biodegrading onto my forehead.
But I'm desperate, so I decide to test my inner strength, as well as my waning lung capacity and go for the pee.
No joke I put my hoodie on.
Dont particularly need the e-coli sticking to my hair thats already damp from the low pressure pee front haze in there.
I hovered over the toilet, legs squivering, saying my Hale Marys with my forehead sweating in fear of making contact with the intestinally diarreah baptized seat, ...
I cant help but think, all my martial arts training, staying in a horse stance and focusing my breathing, channeling my chi, has it's moment of shining glory...in a fucking porta potty.
If the need should ever arise again to find a bathroom where the toilets filled with community defecation and precariously shakes when you close the door....two thoughts came to mind. The first thought was, I think I'd rather crap in my pants.
The 2nd thought was, I think I'd rather crap in my pants.
4 days later, I'm still holding my breath in fear of the smell still being trapped in my nosehairs somewhere.
But as I hover over the toilet seat testing every muscle and ligaments resistance capacity, a flood of more accurate names for these......these olfactory playgrounds, came to mind.
The name of this luxurious facility that I embarked upon was comically called
'The Royal Flush'
And I think...yeah more like: 'The Colon Flush'.
I exit the Porta Potty as if someone was chasing me with an axe.
Some other desperate fool awaits me outside.
i hold the door open, and picture the group effort decay inside he's about to witness, lower my head, and say..."Dude...it wasnt me, it was all of Connecticut."
So here's my names, for a more honest Porta-Potty World:
1. Shit Outta Luck
2. The Crap Trap
3. Stop And Plop
4. The Melting Pot
5. The Fisher-Price Pietri Dish Playhouse
6. Take a Load Off
7. The Bung Lung
8. The Poop Coop
9. The Hotter Squatter
10. The Shit Terrarium
11. Take Your Breath Away Waste Management
12. The Stank Tank
13. The Shit Pit
14. Holy Crap, Mother Of God
15. Helter Shelter
16. The Last Resort
17. Ass In The Grass
18. The FeCAL LoCAL
19. The Butt Hutt
20. The Shat Vat
21. The Log Cabin
22. The Stool Shed
23. The Community Dump
24. The DUNGeon
25. You Won't Believe This Shit
Feel free to share with me your own, and next time youre in Porta-Potty hell, i hope you'll think of me. :)
