There’s nothing worse than walking into a public bathroom to the smell of poop. I see there is someone in the stall doing their business. I go in the stall to do my business. And then they flush. And then they wash their hands. And then they exit the bathroom.
OH SHIT. (Literally)
Now if someone comes in the bathroom they’re going to think I was the one to cause this stink. That sucks.
WHAT TO DO?
You can do what I do and carry a Victoria’s Secret mini perfume in your pocket. Then after they exit the bathroom, but before I exit the stall, I spray the bejesus out of it. (No, my office building doesn’t invest in bathroom spray, wtf, this is 2012!) I also have the courtesy to do this if I happen to be the one making the stench.
Funny side note, I did this just the other day. I was washing my hands and then putting some powder on my nose and a lady who works down the hall from me came into the bathroom.
“Hello,” she said. Yeah, these bitches are finally saying hello to me. I’ve killed them all with kindness.
“Hello, how are you?” I responded.
“Good! By the way, you smell really good!”
I went back to my desk and texted G that I just took a crap in the bathroom and the lady down the hall told me I smell really good thanks to my Victoria’s Secret mini spray. She texted me later that day saying she wished she had my spray. See ladies, I do give great advice! Jleesblog.com, tell your friends.
You can do what you learned in kindergarten. Blame the person next to you.
What is poop blame?: Blaming your [bad] smell on someone else, mainly your dog or your child, but also a friend if that’s convenient. Or better yet, your spouse.
I know we’re adults, but this seriously happens.
I was at a bachelorette party recently. After a glorious dinner at an awful winery (don’t worry, we trashed them on Yelp!) we went to the bar to get cRaZy, you know as crazy as we 30-something moms get nowadays….OH! Side note, I remember being at the bar, The Lodge, our favorite as 22-year-old college grads, and making fun of the “old” women on the dance floor, all of whom were probably my age now, and saying words like “pathetic” and “loser.” Wow, that’s actually a really depressing thought….
In other [crucial] advice I’m handing out for free today, to any of my college readers (I know I have at least one,,, she commented on “My Office Crush is Gay,” Yayyy) please PLEASE try to be nice to us old ladies because remember, you too, will be one of us! And gosh does it go fast….
Anyways, we’re at this bar – a group of us MILFs – and suddenly there is this God awful stench lingering around us. WTF. We’re all looking around at each other. No one wants to admit this odor came out of them.
Here comes the Poop Blame. Yes, you’ve got it. My adult friend blamed our other adult friend, and what ensued was hilarity. I just stood on the sidelines watching this transpire wondering if The Real Housewives do this kind of crap off camera.
I’m not sure what stinks more – being The Poop Blamer, the one who has to really pull this off for fear of not only being the stink-maker, but now also being the *&%*# who tried to blame it on someone else,,, (you better hope you don’t blush) or being the Poop Blamee, the one who is blamed, who vehemently denies it, and now causes everyone to think they are even more guilty because of their denial.
I actually try not to be the Blamer or the Blamee, I mean, I’m not generally walking around ripping ass [in public] because that disgusts me, and despite my potty-mouth I am a lady. However, after the Mozzaball incident I did accidentally let one slip out at the bar and while I saw people’s noses around me crinkle I just shrugged it off figuring they’d think it was my husband. LOL
But, do people really blame their scents on their children? I really hope not, I mean, I don’t want to scar the Chiquita in any way more than she will already be scarred by having a crazy wine guzzling mom. Let’s give this kid a fighting chance at a life without therapy.
We’ve established people are ripping ass at work, in kindergarten, in bars…what about at home? My mom once told me that she never passes gas in front of her husband. WTF, seriously? Who does this?
We all grow up saying that we don’t want to do things like our parents did, and I am no exception. I said I could never marry a man that I couldn’t pass gas in front of. I’m not going to spend “until death do us part” running to the bathroom every single time I have a little gas. Sorry, honey, my TV show is more important than the air you are trying to breathe….
I know my husband is sooo lucky, right? I really am quite the catch. And he sooo
loves hates when I say “ripping ass” telling me ‘do you have to talk like that?’ But, what can I say? That’s what we Italian girls do.
I really shouldn’t type cast us all….
That’s what this Italian girl does.
Tell me, what do you do? Blame it on your kid or your husband? Or are you one of those gas-less wonders?