Sunday, April 08, 2007

I was visited upon by a cleaner-lady as I took a wee-wee in the toilet.

"Soli," she said, in a strong Thai accent, putting the stress on the second syllable of the poorly pronounced word.

"It's okay," I squeaked as I pushed my torso into the urinal in an attempt to conceal my precious wiener from her view. If I had pushed in any harder, I would have left a hole in the wall where the urinal used to be. In reality, I was anything but okay. I've never had anything female walk in on me when I relieved myself. This was the first time, and hopefully the last.

She strode passed me with an assortment of brooms and mops to the little store room at the end of the bathroom while I strained my bladder and whatever muscles involved to pee a little faster. I turned look at her, and she appeared normal, like she was used to seeing guys take a leak. I, on the other hand, tried my best to appear unperturbed by her intrusion.

When I was finally done, I zipped up, flushed, washed my hands, and zoomed out of the toilet.

?dael had a question at 2:26 PM