Words to Pee By

What follows is a direct data-feed of the mind of Jeff from earlier this evening.

I can't believe I'm going to have to stop at Diamond Shamrock to pee. What am I, a woman with a bladder the size of a grape? Real men can hold it for days! Crap, guess I'm not a real man, then, because I'm pulling into the parking space. "Thanks, man," nice of that guy to hold the door for me ... hey wait, a guy shouldn't hold the door for me, that really makes me a woman ... If I didn't have to pee like a polar bear I'd have gone the other way, no time for that, restroom dead ahead, bang open the door, snap the lock, lift the lid, and aaaaaaaaahhhhhh, relief!

Say, that's strange, it sure smells nice in here. Kinda flowery. That's nice. And why does that sign say, "Please do not flush feminine products"? How stupid to put that up in the men's room! Why in the world would a man bring feminine products into the bathroom? Maybe it's some really pushover husband, or maybe it's for dads changing diapers or something ... what a bunch of idiots running this place. Ah well, dew's off the lily pad, time to head on out ...

Snap the lock open, bang through the door, look right, towards the other restroom with the "Men" sign on it ... oh crap. Look at the door I came out of, with the "Women" sign on it ... double crap.

Women, handicapped, and me?

Slink out the door, make no eye contact, back into the truck and off to home, red-faced, completely unsure now, maybe I am a woman ... and do I have to pee again?! Jeezum Pete, maybe I went in the right door after all ...