GOD, SERIOUSLY, PUT IT AWAY GORODE...

Ladies, Ladies...it seems some of us are malcontent with BubbleTea as the drink of choice for B-Time...but let's relax, we all know that our SECOND FAVORITE drink of choice is the Orange Julius...(merep, an image of the Julius, please?)

Anywayzzz...bathroom talk is not just something our mom's used to reprimand us for when we were 5 and playing with our poops in the toilette...(anyone? anyone?)...even as adults we have our freudian moments...and mine occurred quite recently. however, girlzz, i warn you: this story is for anyone but the faint of heart. if you define bathroom talk as "arguing over what loofah to use during the MereP rub down" then i caution you to avert your eyes and web-browsers NOW.

I shall GO ON...

It was sunday. I had enjoyed a large spicey italian sausage on a roll. Not moments later, I was eating a full course meal and drinking wine at the first meeting of my bookclub. What I ate is, at best, irrelevant. What I did is, no doubt, punishable. I left the restaurant and drove in my car North on FDR. Knowing I needed to get gas, I decided to try my luck just over the GW bridge in dirty jersey . As I'm on the telephone with MereP, it hits me that I need to crap. It also hits me that I haven't done so in quite some time. It's Midnight...there's traffic...my stomache is about to explode. I start sweating. The words coming out of MereP's mouth begin to mean nothing as I try and steer my car to the closest exit. The pain, ladies, the pain...reinforcement why giving labor is about as appealing as a root canal without the laughing gas. I get off at a random exit and begin driving down a daunting boulevard (think Eerie Blvd, 'Cuse style). I can't hold it any longer. Frantically looking around for some form of salvation I see a Dunkin Donuts with a 24hr Sign...but NO! 24 hr DRIVE THRU!! FOILED!

Then it happened...
There are moments in life when you realize just how amazingly clever you are. How if you were homeless for 48 hours in the amazon maybe, just maybe, you'd actually be able to survive on pure improvisation of your surroudnings. There are also moments in life when desperate times call for desperate measures.

My salvation came in the form of a semi-empty bubbletea cup. It sat staring at me on my center console. Without a moment's thought, I threw out the remaining tapioca "pearls"...squatted in the darkest shadow my car cast on the Dunkin Donuts parking lot..and crapped. I crapped into the bubble tea cup. It happened so quickly...it was like a first kiss where you're nervous, flustered, anxious...and then all of a sudden it happens and you're both relieved it's over, but also excited! Yes, I was excited! Excited that I could begin my drive back to the city pain free. However...the story gets a tad gloomier: there was no trash around. I left the poop in the bubbletea container on the cement parking lot next to Dunkin Donuts. New light has been shed on the creation "coffee coolata".

I have little shame. It took an entire work day to realize this story is too ... juicy...to keep to myself.

I know ask you, is it a coincidence the drink of choice #1 for B-Time is BubbleTea?

I think what I did, that night, in that parking lot, only adds validation to the legacy of "dirty jersey".