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Wes Nessman and The Chocolate Factory

Make no mistake; this is a tale of an epic journey, one with many twist and turns.  There will be pain and suffering but an eventual happy ending. It is also a story about a dump that could not wait.  I share this with you as a partner in the human experience. I make no claims that my bowels are more important than yours. 

We actually had a d.j. in the building that used to tell hilarious stories about pooping himself.  As entertaining as these tales were, I have always prided myself on the fact that I have held the hounds at bay.  Yes, I am all wins and no losses. 

I actually think my story begins a little before lunch.  I enjoyed some fine four or five day old cake with good old fashion frosting on it. I think it became the gut bomb that was to be.  I then picked up some friends and we had a fantastic lunch at my favorite place around the middle 50th street.  I would mention the place, but I believe they bear no blame in the ugliness which was to come.  From the restaurant we went to Gardenridge to check out the Halloween stuff (yes, like a herpes outbreak, it’s made a rather unexpected debut, and yes, there’s some xmas stuff out already too).  The Halloween stuff is fantastic if you like to pimp your house, but not pro enough for our needs.  While viewing these items I felt the first hit in the gut that let me know that the postman was at the backdoor.  In retrospect, this is where I should have found the bathroom.  I didn’t know where the facilities were in this place, so I decided I’d put my balloon knot into lock down and wait until our next destination.  My cohorts, of course wanted to look around the store a bit more, so I toughed it out.

From Gardenridge we headed over to the Home Depot off the Loop.  I love Home Depot and this one tends to be better stocked than the other. As part of my business we spend in the tens of thousands of dollars with our orange friends each year, but usually at the store on 50th.  By the time we arrived, my guts were churning like a hand cranked ice cream maker.  Once in the store, I immediately set about trying to find the facilities.  Since this was not my usual Home Depot, I had to walk the entire store.  Trust me, Thor doesn’t clench his hammer as tightly as I was clenching my cheeks.  I finally asked an associate and he actually said, “you’re in a lot of trouble, we’re remolding the restrooms, but there’s some outhouses outside.  Now, the thought of an outhouse, outside a home improvement center, on a 98 degree day is only a little worse then the thought of having your skin slowly removed with a potato peeler, but I had to do, what I had to do.  I went outside and……………….I couldn’t find the port-a-potties.   I went back in, still determined that I would not fill my shorts and told my friends, I’ve got to go to the mall, amuse yourselves.  Now before we continue our adventure, a note to Home Depot.  I love you. I spend DINOSAUR dollars with you, but remodeling, on a Saturday, really?  On Saturdays you have not only all the contractors who are finishing up their work week, but also us weekend warriors descending on the store.  Also, there are places in town that can remodel a whole bathroom in one weekend and the only thing that ever slows them up is, you guessed it, THEY HAVE TO GO TO HOME DEPOT.  I mean, seriously, how can you ever have a “work in progress” at the place that sells all the materials? 

So, back to our story.  I jumped in the truck and headed over to Sears (actually, a listener stopped me in the parking lot to tell me I “rocked” and I hope I wasn’t to rude, because I was dying) Yes, I was well past the due date and the baby was coming and Sears was to be my redeemer so I couldn’t make chit-chat.   I went to merchandise pickup because I remember there was a bathroom there, only there wasn’t.  Now my guts were cranking away like the transmission on a rusty old tractor.   I had already experienced what I call “the drop” where things are no longer in your guts, but right there near the death row exit with no hope of any reprieve.  I went through the tool section at Sears and briefly noted that they are now marketing pink tool sets for women with the hilarious tagline “what will you put in your pink box?”  My guess is the advertising executives at Sears are either very sheltered, or are laughing their asses off at this slogan.  I would have taken a picture for you, but my guts were screaming.  I went to menswear section and I said to the gentleman, “I need to start my Sears journey with a visit to the restroom”.  He said “upstairs, you’ll see the sign”.  Now, thankfully, they still have escalators because If I would have had to climb stairs, well let’s just say the next few people would have had a trail to follow.  So I get to the escalator and I’m behind an “associate” who is wearing one of those “Adventure Time” wool hats with the tassels and little ears.  Now even though my starfish is struggling to hold back the masses like the Spartans at the pass in the movie “300”, I can’t help but think that a grown man with a full beard should not wear this look. This look is for little girls and pedophiles ONLY!   I went upstairs, pretended to look at stereos for a second (I don’t know why, ‘cause I’m near exploding at this point).  I get to the bathroom and toilet number one was “out of order” and yes, toilet number two was occupied.  Seriously, what are the odds?  Not wanting to appear like a giant weirdo who hangs out in mall restrooms I went back and looked and several other items.  At this point I noticed a dad head to the restroom, he was obviously checking on his kid who was the “pretender on my thrown”.   I waited a few more minutes and decided, I AM WAITING IN THE BATHROOM.  I went into the bathroom near shoulder to shoulder but slightly behind another guy.  Could this guy, be further delaying my sweet, sweet relief?  Yes, he was headed into the stall.  Yet, something told him from my fish belly white pallor and cold sweat that he needed to help a fellow human.  He said, “you go ahead, I’ll wait”.  I did make it to the pot on time. It was glorious relief that was over a half hour from indication to fulfillment.  There should have been unicorns dancing, angels singing and a rainbow busting out over my head it was so awesome.  The guy who was going to ‘go next’ obviously didn’t think so, because he split, after he realized this was a murder scene. 

I, like anyone else, would rather not use a public restroom, but sometimes despite the song you play at home, you can have an encore. I would like the fine people at Sears for their well-maintained facility. I was tempted to put a line into this about “there’s more to your wipe at Sears”, but they helped me keep my record intact and I don’t want to end on a pun.  I still have not messed myself as an adult.   I’m proud of my record, except for the fact that I just told you all about it.  

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