It's Just The Way I Roll...Deal With It!

I’m not politically correct. I think that crap has been carried way to far. I spent some time this morning trying to figure out what to call a midget in this post. I realized that by going out of my way to rename the word, midget, I would be insulting the midgets in this post.

Earlier this month, I had to make a trip out-of-town to visit an ill relative. To my surprise, most of the accommodations in that area were booked up. Don’t know what was going on since the most excitement in that town is the annual town Chili Cookoff. I finally found a room available at a C—— Inn. (Covering my butt from legal action even though what I am writing is 100% true). The hotel looked pretty nice from the outside. TPSkipper and her little rugrats were with me. Of course, they wanted to hit the pool immediately. We threw out luggage on the beds and they pulled out their bathing suits. I rummaged thru my suitcase and realized that I had left my swimsuit at home. So, I figured I’d just go watch them have some fun while I sat in sweltering, humid, stinky chlorine fumes.

There were a few people in the indoor pool and I sat down in a poolside chaise lounge to watch the fun. I noticed a woman with her husband (I assume) and kids having a great time. She was very friendly and started up a conversation with TPS. TPS is an outgoing person and makes friends everywhere. I noticed something really strange, though. The woman and TPS would move to certain parts of the pool and no matter how deep the water, TPS’s body didn’t seem to be immersed as much as the other woman. I thought that maybe she had put some of those swimmer’s arm thingys on her legs or something. I was concentrating on this new-found ability of hers to swim/float without moving and patting myself on the back for giving birth to such a remarkable person! I was in such deep thought about this that I was startled badly when a voice beside me said, “Excuse me. You are sitting on my towel.” I turned toward the voice and found myself looking at the woman who was in the pool…..and she was a midget. A very nice midget lady…don’t get me wrong.  There was no way to tell that she was a little person (is that the correct term?) while in the pool because from the waist up she looked average size. This explained the difference in the level of water on TPS and this lady. But, I was really disappointed that TPS wasn’t magically floating/swimming afterall.

The frolicking at the pool went on until almost bedtime. We went back to our room to take showers, put on jammies, brush teeth, etc. TPS was first up for showering, etc. I was lying on the bed watching Fox News and remembering the good old days when I liked Glen Beck.( This was before he starting scary the crap out of me with his DOOM and GLOOM and Armageddon warnings. No wonder the poor guy cries all the time.) Suddenly, TPS was hollering and carrying on something awful. I thought that maybe she had gotten hit with icy water coming from the shower. Y’all know what I’m talking about….how the damn showers in hotels have that one control that you have to turn 180 degrees before anything close to warm water comes out. But, I knew that was not the problem when Skipper started hollering for me to come in there. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom half expecting an episode of “I Didn’t Know That I Was Pregnant” taking place right before my very eyes. My eyes darted to the toilet, mentally preparing myself for the site of a hairy little head sticking up out of the water like on that reality show. Instead, Skipper was pointing to the sink which was backed up with standing water…..with bugs swimming in it. Being that it was really late and we were really tired, we decided to not call the desk at that time. There was another sink located in a little cubby outside of the bathroom so we used that one.  TPSkipper was somewhat traumatized since she hates bugs of any kind. I told her to get in the shower and relax. In the shower, she found a used bar of soap indicating that the household staff had neglected the bathroom entirely. So, we threw a hand towel in the shower to stand on and tried to refrain from touching anything during our showers. We decided to talk to the manager in the morning.

During the night, TPSkipper felt something crawling on her and jumped up and turned on the light. It was a bug. She was convinced that it was bedbugs but I assured her that I had watched Dateline when they did a story on hotels and that bug was toooo big to be a bedbug.

Thank goodness, we were only booked for one night. The next morning, we went down for our free breakfast. All we could find on that deluxe continental breakfast bar was dried out bagels, something that sorta resembled eggs, mystery meat, and a dirty waffle iron with waffle mix sitting nearby. Thank goodness, we had spotted a Bob Evans right down the road.

So, hungry, tired, and scratching our imaginary bug bites, we decided to check out. I made a mistake and paid up right away. Then, we asked for the manager of the hotel. Should have done that before paying. An Indian man emerged from a back office and said, “How can I help you?” TPSkipper told him about the dirty shower and the bugs. He took us aside and in a whisper said, “Was it roaches?” EWWWWWW!

We assured him that it was not roaches and probably not bed bugs, either.

He said, “Sooo sorry, I am. I will call exterminators immediately. I will fix the problem. Let me give you something to make it better.”

And, he handed me a “$20 off your next stay” coupon. And, that did it…..

I said, “Listen, Ghandi…why would I ever stay here again. Even Mother Teresa, who stayed in some of the worse slums in the world, wouldn’t stay here!” But, I took the card anyway to remind me of our stay at the C—— Inn in M——-, Ohio.

After we checked out (and ate at Bob Evans), we needed to stop in the local Wal-Mart to pick up a couple of things. The Wal-Mart was huge and had wonderful, wide aisles. Our local Wal-Marts don’t have aisles that wide….people can barely turn their Rascals (longtime readers will remember Laci of Redneck Love Saga) around in them.

TPSkipper went one way and I went the other trying to hurry up and grab what we needed. I got finished and went back to where we parted and ran right into her. Skipper and I have ways of communicating that are not verbal but make use eye rolling and body language. So, when her eyes started darting toward the floor, I knew that she was signalling me about something. However, I didn’t read the signal fast enough because she said very loudly, “Look out, Mom! You’re gonna step in it!”.

“It” was a pile of poop. Yes, actual crap. Somebody had dropped a load right in the middle of that wide aisle and kept on walking/running. And, to beat it all, there were 3 different ladies pushing shopping carts very, very close to the turd pile. I saw Skipper’s mouth open and realized that she was wanting to warn them but she was too late. One lady rolled her cart wheels right thru it. YUCK! And, to beat it all, there were poopie footprints going down the aisle away from the crap. Well, I did the only thing that made sense to me at the time and told Skipper to get out her iPhone and take a picture of it. And, she did. And, I have it. And, you can look at it if you want but it is very disgusting. Why on earth my immediate reaction was to take a picture of it, I don’t know. But, here it is….WARNING…it’s YUCKY….

on second thought…I’m pretty sure that posting that picture will cross even my bad taste line. I must be developing some class since this since I decided not to post it. Several people have requested the poop pic. So, by popular demand, I present…ta dah…the turds in the aisle….

That is the honest-to-goodness, unretouched picture from TPS’s iPhone. And, no I will not edit and zoom in so don’t ask (y’all are nasty people. LOL)

Anyway…back to the poop. I have found myself obsessing over that steaming pile of shit. I can’t help wondering who dumped it. Was it a little old lady in polyester pants who just decided to shake it out of her pant leg? Or, a guy who wears that baggy show-your-crack pants who lost it while running for the bathroom? Or, maybe, a mommy didn’t take their kid serious when they said they had to go do #2? I guess I’ll never know. But, the poop footprints leading away from it suddenly disappeared as if the person was lifted up or something.

 Next, I did the only decent thing that I could think of doing. There was an assistant manger standing on one side of a display and he was talking to a pretty, young female worker on the other side of the display. I tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me. I hate to interrupt but there is a pile of poop in that aisle over there that probably should be cleaned up. Someone could slip in it and you could face a lawsuit.”

He just looked at me. So, I said, “Seriously, somebody needs to get that crap off of the floor.” This time, he reacted and said, “Thank you”. It was almost as if he was used to people reporting turds on the floor. Then, he turned to that pretty, young worker and said, “Go get some paper towels and cleaner….”. Poor thing….he was ordering her to clean it up. I felt really sorry for her. But, hey…not my poop and I ain’t cleaning it up.

I,admittedly, have a warped sense of humor. It is uncontrollable 99.5% of the time. I have tried many ways to get rid of it….meditating, cooking chicken feathers, human hair, and raccoon whiskers, and reading serious books. But, when something hits me in the twisted funny bone, I can’t help it. And, I’m not the only one who laughs at stuff that shouldn’t be laughed at. For instances, once, when my little sister farted in church, the whole choir couldn’t sing due to giggling. This is to explain why I almost bent over double laughing when something bad really happened recently.   OK…apparently, I do have bad taste limits. What on earth is happening to me?

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