
Bill and I went to the Paula Poundstone comedy concert at Centennial Hall in the University area. She was absolutely eccentric and witty and humorous and interesting throughout the entire 2 hour show. Her interactions with audience members were bright and teasing but never personal or mean.
So afterwards I told Bill I had to pee (i hadn't gone for the entire performance). He said it would take too much time because the lines would be extraordinarily long. i said that isn't necessarily true since we were no where close to the lobby and it would have taken us about 10 minutes minimum just to get where there MIGHT be a bathroom line. Besides when i went to the bathroom prior to the show, there was a bathroom stall monitor (i've never seen one before) who guided the ladies to the open toilets by yelling out numbers, as in "ok, #3 is clear"; "get ready for #7". and this bizarre support really speeded up the process.
But even after i told Bill this, he insisted with a firm grip on my elbow that he was going to get me to a bathroom faster and i could trust him (famous last words). So we left the hall and immediately started walking the wrong way only neither one of us knew that until we had walked about 15 minutes. By this time I am at a Pee 12 (on our spousal scale, this means radioactive leakage danger time.) and bitching at him.
finally he stops and says he has no idea where we are (highly unusual for Bill who has excellent spatial sense). So we head to the only lights around; a small market which was really a drug house and gathering place for the dispossessed and mentally ill. The proprietor said we could use the bathroom but it was occupied. and yes it was, for the NEXT 13 MINUTES. I am having chills and bladder spasms at this time. Finally, the door opens and a newly heroin injected Walmart-body-shape-fat lady trundles out in a venomous cloud of the stinkiest shit i've ever smelled.
After this experience, we spent another 15 minutes hitting all quadrangles of the campus before something looked familiar to Bill and we headed to the correct parking garage.
so our post analysis of the concert accompanied by a special coffee drink and a shared whip creamdessert was cast aside as it would have been difficult to engage in this activity when i wasn't talking to Bill and instead enjoying the cloak of righteous contemptuous annoyance.
and because of my large container of emotional negativity and pissed-offness, i had a nightmare, woke up with a stye on my eyelid and had a headache. It took me till 9am before i could see the absolute hilarious funnyness of the situation. Maybe i can tell Paula about this and she can use it during her next concert.