When you Gotta Go...

It is TMI (too much information Thrusday) over at Lilu’s blog.  That is where she encourages people to tell totally revolting and disgusting things about themselves or their family.  No really she tells some of the most, um, how do I say...surprising things about her 20 something self.  Oh did I mention her MOTHER, yes her mother reads her blog? 

Now honestly mine is nowhere near the level of some of her stories.  I don't have a sharting story but still I debated whether or not to tell this story or even link it. I looked deep inside myself and said what the heck?  I mean I have told you guys some pretty wild stories on here and you keep coming back for more.  So without further explanation or excuses, here it is for your reading pleasure.


Once upon a time Gladys worked for a company where she would often have to give safety meetings. She would stand in front of sixty or seventy men as in males and give presentations on construction safety. She would use pictures of accidents either from her fellow employees or those of other construction companies. You have all seen them. She had pictures of tower cranes crashed into buildings, forklifts upside down as well as loads dumped onto personal vehicles and such.

Gladys prided herself on dressing and presenting herself in a professional manner. This was very important back in the old days of the construction industry. Male construction workers didn’t have much use for women in the industry, even if they were office workers. Heaven forbid Gladys show up at the actual jobsite in her pink hard hat and steel toed boots. All production would shut down until she had crawled back into her company issued truck and sped off in the attempt to rid herself of the stink eye curses that were heaped upon her by the male workers.

Gladys had been very young when she had all her internal lady parts removed. When the doctors drove the truck into Gladys’ body and removed her lady parts they had to take some of her internal organs and rearrange them. One such organ was her bladder. It must have been sprained or lazy because the doctor told her he had to put it in a sling. This episode happened about 15 years after they put Gladys’ bladder in a sling, which is not to be confused with the old saying “getting your ass in a sling.”

Gladys arrived at work that morning dressed in her business attire complete with panty hose and heels. She retrieved her artwork and story boards from her closet and admired her collage of recent wrecks. She had her note cards all neatly typed and made sure she had plenty of Shipley Donuts and coffee for the men. She double checked the conference room where she would be holding today’s safety meeting. Now let me take a moment to tell you that Gladys had noticed a frequent urge to visit the little girl’s room in recent days. She noticed that one cup of coffee or thirty minutes was about her limit. She reviewed her notes and timed her presentation so that there could be an intermission of sorts before the last half of her display.

The men filed into the conference room grousing and griping. They positioned themselves around the tables placing spit cups on the left and coffee mugs on the right. They leaned back in their chairs and got comfortable. Many of them could manage to lean their chairs back enough and place their feet up on the table supports so that it was almost a comfortable napping position; but most had to just let their chins rest on their chests and snore into their bellies. Gladys began her presentation and for some reason began drinking deeply from her coffee cup. She would talk for a bit, realize her throat was dry and take another deep drink. She showed the men pictures of upside down loaders and equipment in the drink. THE DRINK? Yes she realized that ninety percent of her pictures featured water. Then she realized in the back of the room the faucet on the little sink was making a drip, drip, drip sound. She looked around at the few faces that were still awake and she watched as they swished their tobacco in their mouths and swilled their coffee. That is when the pressure became abundantly apparent. She shifted from foot to foot. She crossed her legs in a stance of defiance. She fidgeted until she could wait no more. She dropped her note cards, ran past the snoring audience out the door and down the hall. She ran to the ladies room which unfortunately was occupied. She shifted gears and headed to the other hall and found the door to the men’s room wide open. She ran inside, latched the door and turned to see an overflowing toilet and a urinal. She grabbed the waist band of her control top panty hose and heaved with all her might but it was just seconds too late. There was that feeling of warmth and relief which promptly turned cold and horrific. She realized she had waited minutes too late.

Two hours later the men woke to find Gladys had not reappeared. She had left the building.