The Toilet
She burst into the bathroom, catching me mid-wipe. “Sorry! Sorry! Oh God, I am so sorry.” She kept muttering as she bent over the toilet, stomach heaving but nothing emerging. I didn’t care.
I’d long ago learned that at this particular bar the plan of attack was to always wear skirts, not pants. When you finally had to break the seal they kept your lady parts covered -even if the communal area got invaded. This skirt was both long and full and gave me the approximate level of coverage an actual stall door might have provided, so I didn’t mind if a marching band wanted to wander through. I finished up and flushed, then moved to wash my hands.
“I just… I am trying not to throw up!” She added, unnecessarily. She stood up and looked at me then. Fat tears gleamed in her eyes, threatening to spill. I was utterly unmoved.
“Make sure to breathe.” I advised, in a poor approximation of a person who might care.
“Oh, it’s way past breathing!” she exclaimed, as I squirted liquid soap on my hands.
I pondered what the actual state would be of a person who was “past breathing.” Arriving at “dead” I assumed she was only being dramatic.
“Look! I burned my finger.” She shoved her hand in my direction.
“Mmmm.” was the most sympathetic noise I could dredge. I reached for paper towels to dry my hands.
“And I am not even a smoker, really!” This was the last, plaintive cry upon which I firmly shut the bathroom door. I hate drunk girls.
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One of the songs is called “D.I.L.L.I.G.A.F” which was also the name of the tour. It is to my lasting regret that I didn’t buy a couple of the T-shirts they were selling – plane black with just D.I.L.L.I.G.A.F written across them in white – stands for “Do I Look Like I Give A F**k”
Sounds like one of those T-shirts would have come in handy for you – personally I’d love one for work.
btw – type dilligaf into youtube if you’re interested in the whole song.