Friday afternoon I tempted fate by Tweeting and posting on Facebook how I was heading out to dinner sans kiddies. Oh how was I to cope without a child to slop spaghetti bolognese everywhere, a toddler to whine/scream/tantrum the place down? What was I going to do without all that to contend with?
Karma was listening to all of this, and stepped in and kicked my ass for being so sarcastic.
So I got ready, half a dozen times, as I attempted to find an outfit that minimised my tuck shop arm wingspan.
I had a couple of glasses of wine in preparation for the crazy expensive prices the restaurant was going to charge me for the dribble they pour into an enormous and pretentious wine glass.
All was good. The kids were even happy and well behaved, and therefore #1 Hubby had absolutely no opportunity to martyr himself as he normally would in the bi-annual event that I get to go out to dinner without him and the kids.
I grabbed a little clutch purse, since I didn't have to take nappies, wipes, toys, drinks, snacks, entertainment. As I trotted downstairs, #1 Hubby commented on the clutch purse. He is a man and therefore I ignored him. He has no place commenting on such things. But still, he persisted with the smart ass jokes about how I won't even fit his mini mobile phone in the clutch (the crap mini mobile phone I am relegated to until I can replace my lovely stolen full-sized mobile phone).
Before he could really ramp up the sarcasm, the taxi arrived. So I quick-footed it next door to get #1 Nana (the birthday girl) and #1 Brother, and we were off.
A quick 12 minute taxi ride to our restaurant, and in the 20 seconds it takes to walk in, I realise I no longer have #1 Hubby's world's smallest mobile phone.
It is no longer inside my crappy small clutch purse.
Panic sets in as I realise this is the second mobile in 2 weeks that has up and left me.
|I absolutely need one of these fancy devices to ensure I never lose my phone again|
So I ring #1 Hubby and get the number of the taxi company from him. I hang up mid incredulous lecture. I phone the taxi company who tell me to call lost property on Monday. Even though I explain that our taxi had been booked in advance, so it should be very easy to track who the job went to. Even though we were only dropped off literally 2 minutes prior, so the driver would still be close. The operator sighs and puts me on hold.
I spend the next 10+ minutes pacing up and down the driveway next to the restaurant while listening to the taxi company's shit hold music, which I'm sure is a deliberate attempt to induce bleeding ears so people have to hang up and thus minimise their queue of waiting callers.
Suddenly, the taxi driver pulls up.
#1 Hubby, and it pains me to admit this, had the forethought to call my mobile. The driver heard it, picked up, and he came straight back with it.
Crisis over, and I may have promised vital organs to the driver should he ever need them.
On to dinner.
Unisex toilet. I'm not sure why, but this excited me. Colour me amused that you have to walk through the urinal to get to the toilet. As I sit and do my thang, I suddenly ponder what I'll do if I hear someone come in to use the urinal?
What is the unisex toilet etiquette there? Do I cough to politely advise that someone is in the loo? Do I whistle so they don't get stage fright? Do I make small talk about the weather? These things dominated my thoughts as I attempted to wrench my knickers up quickly to avoid such a scenario. Nobody else came in, but I did have a self inflicted wedgie of epic proportions.
And so I took great delight in regaling #1 Nana and #1 Brother on the toilet situation. I'm not saying I was drunk, because I wasn't
yet, but I was merry enough to find it highly amusing and worthy of at least 20 minutes conversation.
FYI, #1 Nana and I were in agreement that a quick cough or noisy spin of the loo roll was appropriate warning to anyone who stepped into the urinal.
A while later and #1 Nana needs to go. I rocket out of my seat and insist on accompanying her so that I can show her the wonders of the unisex toilet entry via the urinal. Then I rush in ahead of her and make her keep watch so I don't have to come up against the scenario that had caused me great concern the last time I was in there.
It's while I'm in the loo that I hear her conversing with a couple of women.
A couple of women on the other side of the open air basin, in the ladies bathroom.
All find it totally hilarious that I've missed the ladies' loo entirely, and I quickly flush and attempt to exit what is now very obviously the men's bathroom.
But not before a puzzled bloke enters.
And so I immediately launch into rapid-fire babble:
"So sorry! Don't worry, I did not go near the urinal - it's totally clear for you. Even has one of those funky coloured scented blocks, heh. Anyway I'm definitely female, I'm not transgender or transvestite or whatever the politically correct term is these days, I just used the wrong loo. I did leave the seat down though...see, female! Heh. Anyway enjoy your night, peace out Buddy!"
And exited with a quick pat on his shoulder, as he looked on puzzled and, quite frankly, scared.
#1 Nana is beside herself, and thanks me for the best. birthday present. ever.
|This I would've noticed. No chance of misunderstanding here. Or user error.|
Flash forward a while and (yes I'd obviously "broken the seal") I'm up for a tinkle once again.
This time I'm all smug knowing that I'm heading to the correct loo. For the first time.
And it's sooo much better than the men's. This one has an automatic light that switches on when you open the door.
Unfortunately, it is on a timer, and let me just say that they are very power-conscious about it. I'm mid-stream when suddenly I'm plunged into darkness.
Not even kidding. We're talking completely pitch black.
Since it was my first time in the ladies' loo, I have no idea if there are any steps, where the basin is, how high up the bloody door handle is. I'm now having trouble finishing my business, thanks to anxiety caused by the images of myself tripping in the dark and falling, face first, knickers around my ankles, out the door into the packed restaurant.
If you knew me, you would know that - not only is this possible - it is an extremely probable outcome.
I managed to grope my way out of there without exposing my Britney Bits to anyone, thankfully.
I actually think that dinner with me was just like taking a toddler after all. What with the careless loss of possessions and toilet issues.
|OMG BLOGGER TOILETS!|
The absolute perfect end to the night : Trendy young guy walking down the sidewalk swinging a cask of wine. I jumped out of my seat. We high-fived and bonded over our affections for boxed wine before he continued on his way.
Hahahaha too funny! You are a dag and I love it!ReplyDelete
hahaha bloody hilarious! Where do you get the pics from?? I love them! I can't wait to see what you get up too in the vodka ice bar. DId you know that the glasses are made of ice? so cool (pun intended). That's as funny as I get todayReplyDelete
Good old Google, never fails me!ReplyDelete
Ice glasses you say? Best we drink quick - so we don't melt our glasses and create a slippery wet and unsafe floor (that I would have to get down and lick in order to reclaim my vodka cocktail).
So to recap, for safety's sake, we shall have to drink fast. Okay?
Oh how very funny :) So glad that you got out of the toilet without falling over, and showing anything!! Never heard of a light switch on a timer...scary! Hey maybe I should get one of those for our shower - that way our boys have to be quick in the shower! Did you enjoy your dinner? Hope so!ReplyDelete
Thank you, I have spent many years honing my dagginess to a fine art.ReplyDelete
That's a genius idea. And one for the TV that only I know how to operate, so I don't miss any Real Housewives of all the world, but I can set it for only 30mins when the football is on. I should make one of these women-only switches, because I am confident all the wives and girlfriends of the world would pay good money for overall control of the TV, right?ReplyDelete