Potty-Chair Expert

Seems I don't work the double 'til next weekend. I've always been pretty bad at straightening out schedualed plans. Good thing, too. Yesterday was our busiest day of the year and we were a cook short in the kitchen.

After work, we went out to eat at this really nice restaurant in town called Stephen's. Makes you feel like you're nowhere near Ohio once you walk in the door. Might as well be some hip little joint off the corner of Spadina.

The food was great, and being only a table for two, we got escorted past the huge line and served immediately (that made me feel like I was in Toronto too).

On the walk home I saw some girl just standing on the sidewalk, nervously smoking a cigarette and looking conspicuous. As we passed her, Missy says, "Did You See that guy shitting on the driveway"? Evidently, ole' boy jabs his girl in the ribs and says, "wait here a minute, I have to doo doo," and procedes to shit, standing up, pants around the ankles, legs only slightly bent, while his girl waits on the sidewalk and tries to not look like her boyfriend is shitting 14 feet away. . . in someone's carport.

Missy was kinda disturbed that he wasn't at least squatting more or closer to the house or something. I tried to explain to her that once you cross that line and decide to crap in public there are really no ettiquette rules for "proper" public shitting. It's not like it would make it right if he changed his style. It's not as if he purposely chose the ungraceful method just to be rude and disrespectful.

I've never shat in public before. I've had to. Once, in my childhood, I even shit my pants because I couldn't find a toilet. I probably should have dropped them and did the dooty, but I'd like to recall that even back then I had a little dignity. Don't get me wrong, there's a time and place for everything, and I know people crap while camping and bury it and what-not, but I take great pride in my potty training and will shit my pants to uphold my vision of myself as a potty-chair expert.