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PSU: Portable Sanitation Unit

November 30, 2011

Essays for Giggles, Toilet Stories

Like most women, I have a problem with Porta-Potties.

Unlike men – who can relieve a full bladder without ever touching anything but themselves, we girls have to sit directly on a surface that has shared space with the intimate parts of A LOT of other people.

Now, while that is gross enough, it is not the real problem since the same can be said for an actual “plumbed” toilet, as the Good Lord intended for them all to be.  The problem is that there is no magic little hole through which the deposit goes away in a little swirly, water tornado.  It is just SITS there.  Looking at you.  If you are brave enough to look at it, that is.

In my younger days, if I were say… on my 6th beer at an outdoor music festival, I could go for DAYS, storing it like a camel, before I would use a portable toilet.  But now, with an aging bladder and a late-in-life pregnancy (nothing down there has recovered from THAT experience); I can’t walk across the street without peeing on myself a little.  At 49, I am literally about 6 months away from needing adult diapers.  But, I digress.

Being brave enough to stare it down leads me to my personal policy of peeing in a PSU, which is TO NEVER LOOK BACK.

Here is how I do it:  I open the door slowly, with my head facing away from the interior.  I turn around and step BACKWARD into the unit as if it were an airline toilet. I then squat without ever looking at my aim.

Now, there are two types of women in the world.  The sitters and the squatters.  I am a sitter.  It is more comfortable and I do not strain my thigh muscles.  And I HATE squatters.  Squatters leave their urine sprayed all over the lid.  It is ridiculous that squatters think their butts are so precious that it cannot touch a surface shared with other butts, yet think the rest of us enjoy an unsuspecting sit-down in their urine.

Ladies:  if you are a squatter, join me in starting a national movement to clean the lid after yourselves.  I do not object to your inalienable right to squat, just don’t take away my right to sit on a pee-free lid.

Now, having said I hate squatters, I will confess that there is ONE time that I squat.  You guessed it.  In the PSU.  Back to the age and condition of my bladder for a moment.  I also don’t have the stream force I used to have and I cannot just cut it off on a whim… THOSE muscles gave up the ghost after two hours of pushing… so squatting is not something that I take lightly, but when in a PSU, I squat, take a deep breath and put everything I have into a forceful stream aimed far away from my body.

Then I freshen up if the toilet paper is not extinct.  If it is, then of course the wet-hound-dog-butt-shake is the next best thing.

Here is the day my procedure failed me:  I was at a craft festival that shall remain nameless.  I went through my backwards routine, squatted, gave it my all and just as I was about to pull up my pants… I felt dampness on my behind.  A LOT of dampness.  I reached around to explore the source and realized that there was a lot of moisture on my legs as well.  From thigh to calf, I was drenched.  WTH?  Thankfully, there was toilet paper that day and I used wads of it to clean up – never looking back – and in a state of confusion as to what exactly had just happened here.  Then, I had to do it… I had to look.

I slowly turned my head about a quarter-turn and slid my peepers all the way to the left in an effort to just barely make out the bowl hole.  This particular porta-potty came WITH A LID that some moron had closed.  I had just whizzed all over the place and the backsplash soaked me.  I was concentrating so hard on my squat technique that I never felt the golden shower I was giving MYSELF!

I had no idea they even made them with real toilet lids!  I’ve never looked!

There was no way I could mop up a gallon of urine with the small square of paper I had left.  Forgive me, but I had no choice… I turned back around, peeked out the door to make sure the coast was clear, stepped out and trotted away quickly before anyone could notice me.

I may have to rethink my PSU policy.

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About reneadijab

Renea Dijab

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2 Comments on “PSU: Portable Sanitation Unit”

  1. Bob Says:

    First the poo story, now self-induced golden showers, what next…? Projectile vomiting in a McDonalds’ playground…, a restless tampax refuses to stay hidden at Aunt Marge’s 90th birthday party…, eye boogers in the potato salad at the company picnic…. I can’t wait for your next story! You are even freakier than I had hoped! 😯 😉 :-p

    Reply

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