TKOG Who skips the preamble (then suffers the goriest karmic comeuppance ever)

NTKOG #190: The kind of girl who, skipping any preliminary song and dance, strides into a random restaurant, storms the customers-only restroom, and, y’know, does what she came there to do?

I am: so barely resisting a pun about squatters’ rights.

I am not: physically capable of using the restroom in any facility without a ten-minute production that begins with explaining that I just need to wash my hands, ends with apologizing profusely to any available staff members, and requires several pep talks in between.

The Scene: The Burger King along my bus route, heading home from a semi-productive afternoon in Cambridge. Although my home is only a ten-minute stroll away, felt the first yearnings of a vortex-ripping pee. Generally, I have no problem using public restrooms — it’s how I use them that’s the problem.

As Co-Worker and The Ex will attest, any simple request on my part (to use a restroom, say, or bum a stick of gum) generally begins with a brief history of the Mongol Empire and ends with a spirited sestina on the finer points of socialism. I have a hard time getting to the friggin’ point, is what I’m aiming at here.

Moreover, I’m not convinced this is a terrible personality trait. After all, no one likes to be used. Surely the Burger King employees who have to clean said restroom would appreciate at least proper thanks from the dudes who use it? NONETHELESS. Dashed through the empty restaurant, under the gaze of two bored employees. Almost in the clear when, mere feet from the door, the gentleman behind the counter called: “Welcome to Burger King.”

Threw the door open like a shield and barricaded myself inside. Mortification clenched my stomach like an icy fist. After a few moments, its fingers unfurled, I turned to face the stall and — promptly vomited. For like fifteen minutes straight.

Uh, guys? Do you believe in karma?

The Verdict: The song and dance is who I am. DON’T TRY TO CHANGE ME, BABY.

Also: No, turns out the attack wasn’t strictly karma. I was felled with a food poisoning that shall be rated Mature, for violent hallucinations, moderate gore and extreme profanity. I was also so sleep-deprived at one point that I left a glass tumbler on the floor. Which I subsequently stomped on, like Godzilla demolishing a mid-level Tokyo high-rise. It was kind of fun at first — I raised my arms and bellowed wildly, destroyer of worlds, hazard to glassware. But then I yanked a big shard out of my foot and spent twenty minutes fluming blood all over my fresh laundry. Which actually kind of takes me back to my karma theory.

Tagged as: considering how much i love talking about foot injuries this is me keeping it restrained, food poisoning, hey look it's tmi thursday - as per uzh, my spirit animal is the bear 'cause i am second to no man in being a big clumsy oaf (also: i sleep a lot and sometimes eat small children on accident), sometimes my need to pee is so intense that it tears vortexes in our reality. NO BIG DEAL., ugh, vom, well there goes my ability to eat thai food