Witz DOESN'T Pickz: Shy Bladder Fiasco and Kitchen Encounters

I don't have a shy bladder. I don't. That might be too much information for you, but if so, you're probably new here and you should know that I'm about to go one step further. I have a bladder that will ocassionally wait for my go ahead if someone sidles up nearby, which I like to think of as a "danger instinct" kicking in. It's like my bladder is saying, "We can do this, OR you can kick this guy's ass first." I like that. But it's certainly not shy.

So you can imagine my confusion, shock, and chagrin to find myself in a Shy Bladder Fiasco. You see, a couple of weeks ago, I was in the office and thought, "Hell, I don't have anything better to do, let's see if I have to pee." THAT'S how bored I was. "I'm not sure this is gonna happen, but let's give it a test run and see what turns up." I don't exactly work on Wall Street. Well, it just so happened that just as I sidled up to the urinal, one of the major higher ups walked into the bathroom. I wasn't quick enough in my zipping up, so instead I just stood there, willing myself to action while this guy two silent urinals over started makin' water music. I stood there awkwardly in my silence until he was gone. I was now the guy in his mind who stands silently at urinals. I should have at least said something like, "Whoah! I just totally spaced out," and zipped up. I'd rather be presumed high than bladder shy (which sounds like a Snoop Dog lyric). End Act One.

Act Two happened yesterday. This time I DID have to pee and walked into the bathroom ready to roll. Right as I was Battle Ready, however, the same guy walks in and over to another urinal. This time I freeze up. Straight up performance anxiety. "C'moooon, c'moooon!" I think while I stand once again in the deafening silence-- that is except for the glockenspiel-ian plinking over at urinal number one. I wanna tell him that, "This never happens to me," but I know he won't buy it. The minute he leaves I'm back to normal, and I almost want to shout out to him just so he knows. I want to shout, "Wait-- look what I can do! Look what I can do!" Before I do, however, I remember what I asked my parents when I was little-- and what they told me:

LITTLE WITZ: Mom, Dad...where do sexual harassment suits come from?
MOM: Hmm...I think your father should handle this one...
DAD: Well, uh, you see Witz, when a boy realllllly likes a girl--
MOM: --or a boy!--
DAD: --right! or a boy! When a boy likes one of those, but that person doesn't like them back-- and the boy makes repeated inappropriate or offensive workplace advances or repeated behavior, that boy can be sued for sexual harassment.
MOM: Listen, Witz. Your father complicates everything. Here's what you need to know: Never call someone back into the bathroom to listen to you pee-- even if it's so you can prove to them that you can pee. Ok?
LITTLE WITZ: I guess so...

So I remained silent as he exited the bathroom.

Act Three-- today. JUST as I'm zipping up, he walks into the bathroom. I zip, flush, wash my hands. It comes off, at least to me, who is now paranoid about the whole thing, as very suspect-- like I probably heard someone coming and zipped up just to pretend I was done, when nothing had actually happened. We exchange hellos as I go to wash my hands and I ask how he's doing, "Well, I don't know," he replies confusingly, "How are you?" and I feel like he HAS to be referring to my ability to urinate in public. My initial response is to say, "Me? Oh, I dunno, how about GREAT! Yeah, that's right, I just peed! There were like, pff, I dunno, twelve dudes in here, just peeing together, no problem. Yeah, no shy bladders here..." but realized that aside from the homo-erotic undertones, it was also a bit too much information. I should have just told him, "Eh, read my blog later, you'll find out," but instead I simply said, "Good," and finished washing my hands and drying them off like I was compensating for something else-- which I suppose I was.

Kitchen Encounters:
An odd thing happened to me in the kitchen at work. I was waiting for some pizza to reheat (which would be a great literary detail to give you insight into my life. "He was the type of guy who would reheat pizza for lunch.") and all of a sudden a guy walks up to the water container and sorta huffs/growls at it. In my head, I thought, "I wonder what this guy is huffing about?" At least I'm pretty sure I thought and didn't say that outloud, but the next thing I know, I'm being told what's so upsetting. Parts of this conversation are real and parts are what I thought in my head. See if you can spot which is which:

GUY: You know, this cup thing is unbelievable!
ME: Huh?
GUY: The tiny plastic cups! What was wrong with the paper cups?
ME: Oh yeah-- that's...
GUY: Infuriating!
ME: Yep.
GUY: Ya know-- THESE cups are biodegradeable too! (pointing at the cardboard cups nearby and making a face not unlike Jack Nicholson in The Shining) Why not just use these?!
ME: Yeah, haha, I actually do.
GUY: Not these stupid plastic cups.
ME: (trying to win favor) Yeah, the plastic ones probably take LONGER to bio-degrade!
GUY: And the thing is, you just KNOW that someone feels good about themselves for using these new cups.
ME: Pff-- those assholes.
GUY: Like, because they're "Earth Conscious."
ME: Despicable fucking pieces of low-life shit.
GUY: It just makes me so angry!
ME: Yeah...so...are you gonna shoot me or...I mean, can I go eat my pizza now or...are we done here? (and this is where the complete 180 kicks in)
GUY: (calmly) I guess there are bigger things to complain about than which cups we use. (and he leaves).

I wait a few minutes because I'm pretty sure it's like in a movie when you think the bad guy is gone and then all of a sudden they pop out and stab you somewhere unfortunate. When that doesn't happen, I grab my pizza and taking a cue from my GPS Device thinking say, "Well, if I'm meant to die by angry cup guy while eating my reheated pizza-- so be it." Not to give away the ending, but I survived. Actually, that is the ending. I survived.

Insert Funny Quip Here,
Witz