OMG I am home.
At last.
And now, I can relax and go back to posting on a not at all consistent basis!
YAY!
So anyways, yes. I went to Boston and New York. By way of airplane.
And I lived to talk about it.
BARELY.
It was totally touch and go for a while, there. I sweated so bad the whole plane ride, I am pretty sure my seat was wet. I think I carry all my tension in my ass.
So yes. Boston was lovely.
Would have been lovelier if James Spader was still practicing law there, but you can’t win them all, and I was there for work, not having sex with the creepy boss from The Secretary. Also? Where the fuck was Norm?!
Sigh.
And then, we traveled by train to New York City, just like the old days…if the old days included gang rape and sidewalks littered with pigeon poop and gutter condoms.
It was, um…big. Scary. Not friendly. And moist. Everything was moist. Like, the bad kind of moist. I don’t know, hot diaper moist? Does that make sense? Yes? It was like that.
But, I made it to my hotel, and then things kinda broke down.
You know that scene in the movie Big, when that weird red headed kid, the one who looks like the human version of ALF, left Tom Hanks alone in the city the first night, and Tom Hanks cried and hid in his bed?
I did that.
Only it wasn’t a bed, it was the tub…in my underwear…with the tv up super loud so no one could hear me sobbing.
But, here’s the thing. Maybe I would have been friends with New York City, if I wasn’t such a germ freak. Which, I mean, is obviously a shocking revelation, no?
Distinction?
I am messy, not dirty. The difference between those two things? Maggots and a live hepatitis B virus.
When I was 8, I was in girl scouts.
We had this insane leader with all these grand ideas about doing all this outdoor shit, when in reality, all I wanted to do was get the high score on Paperboy and puffy paint some sweatshirts. Whatever.
So, we were at some campground in the middle of nowhere, like, straight wilderness, and the only thing that resembled a bathroom was this old wooden outhouse thing. Basically, a wooden box and a hole in the ground. It looked haunted and smelled like it had been pooped in for, at least, the past 20 years.
Anyways, I refused to go in there. But there was this girl in my troop who, at like, 4am, totally couldn’t hold it, and woke up a leader to go hit up the haunted outhouse with her. Well, next thing I know, I heard people yelling, and everything was all crazy outside, because, holy shit, the girl fell through the floor of the old rotting porta potty, into the disgusting pool of feces. I mean, FECES! OLD, ROTTING, FESTERING FECES.
And, she was throwing up everywhere, the owner of the campground called the ambulance to come, she had all these little cuts and splinters all over her from falling through the wooden floor, and the diseased old shit water was all over her and in her cuts, probably giving her some weird fecal disease.
She was in the hospital getting antibiotics for a week, she totally quit girl scouts after that, and since she went to a public school, I never saw her again until high school, but I totally didn’t bring it up.
I mean, who wants to remember falling four feet below an outhouse into a pool of old human waste?
So anyways, my point is, since that day, I have had issues with germs.
I treat everything I touch, from grocery cart handles to door knobs, like they were just touched by some 8 year old soaked in old crap.
And, if that means full body antibacterial baths in the dining car of a dirty train, ANISSA, then so be it.
So yes, next time New York City, I am wearing rubber gloves, nothing personal.
Oh, and also, on the plane ride home, there was a celebrity on my plane. I actually totally didn’t even know she was a celebrity, until she announced it in front of everyone at the ticket counter.
The daughter of Rev Run was on my flight, she apparently has a show on MTV.
Also, Rev Run is not the same as MC Hammer.
And, she flew coach.
Oh, and she had an entourage, and they all looked hard core, except for this one guy who looked like Chaz Bono. You know, the dude version of Chaz Bono. The one with a wiener.
P.S. Oh look, pictures!
P.P.S. Not pictures of wieners, pictures from the trip.
P.P.P.S. Updated in response to the NYC HATE MAIL taking over my inbox: I totally bought an I *heart* New York tshirt, because, for the most part, as long as I wore rubber gloves and a diaphragm, New York City was wonderful, especially the food. Specifically the bagels. And the frozen hot chocolate from Serendipity. And any meat product on a stick sold from any cart at the corner of any intersection. Anyways, I only buy tshirts that say things that are true, except for my shirt that says Got Crunk…but that has less to do with truthfullness and more to do with being drunk in Vegas and having a shifty moral compass.
{ 59 comments… read them below or add one }
that poop story did not get better the second time I heard it.
An alternate view from someone who was at the Boston reception: Brittany was completely adorable. I got my picture taken with her to prove it.http://www.flickr.com/photos/aiminglow/4050935307/
She’s a cute one in the picture. In fact, it’s better if I get cropped completely out of it. She wasn’t sweaty at all. She was bubbly and funny and just so damn cute. So there. And there were lobster ravioli, too. It would have been better if I had won the HP Mini, but whatever. Oh, and I’m actually @greenemeansgo (there’s an e missing there, but that doesn’t matter. Brittany was a doll. Honest).
You are too awesome. I mean, CUPCAKES! You brought me CUPCAKES! I could have DIED…after I ate them all in one sitting, of course.
Sigh….I adore ya.
I read the shit hole part…at work..
and almost peed my pants. And then thought about
how ironic that would be.
And couldn’t stop laughing because my dad used to tell me stories when I was a little girl about how someone used to go in there.
There as in…
inside the outhouse.
swimming in the shit.
And watch you. Watch you sit down and “potty”
So now, I check the hole. For people watching.
Dude, I totally also check it for snakes.
I ALWAYS Check For Snakes… ALWAYS. (and I did that long before I got to Texas, now it just seems practical)
I hear you foodie, I can not sleep in a hotel because I’m convinced that every sq. inch has been masturbated on. You, rubber gloves, me, body condom.
I have you linked on my Fave Blogs and sometimes I wonder what my Mom thinks when she reads your kick-ass titles. Then again, it doesn’t make a difference, because you make me die laughing. Thanks again, as if the poop-stain-on-the-carpet didn’t burn a hole in my brain, now the outhouse story will join it.
Hot diaper moist is the perfect way to sum up NYC. Perfect.
And, I swoon every time I see pictures of your sweet little girl in that hat. Too cute for words.
Sounds like Rev Run’s daughter isn’t doing so good flying coach! Also, WTF would she say to announce herself? “Hey I’m Rev Run’s daughter and I have a show on MTV?” And was everyone like WTF? Why do we care? Spoiled bitch. *hoping she is not your follower*
And NYC is dirty like a moist diaper. But I kind of like dirty hooker dirty every once in awhile. It makes me feel better than other people.
I’ve always been terrified of falling into those stupid outhouse holes. Thanks for re-affirming that fear for me. (or should I say, proving that my fear is not ridiculous!)
Hot Diaper Moist is the perfect explanation for how it was in NYC. Only after midnight, it stayed moist but got cool, which only made it creepier. And my skin is crawling after reading about the poop. Oh dear god I need to stop thinking about it because I’m going to start gagging for serious.
On second thought, I’m fairly sure I just developed a true phobia for outhouses.
You’re welcome.
I’m not a germaphobe. Maye that is why I really like NY. I just thin it has an energy you can’t find other places. I’m sorry you had a breakdown amd I hope you are feeling better now that you are home.
And that poop story totally made me want to puke.
DUDE. you are the second person I’ve heard to use the whole ‘I’m messy but not dirty’ thing. The first? Me! slash my mom. But seriously. People do NOT understand the difference between dirty and messy.
Also, I can’t think about germs too often or I’d be curled up in a ball crying. The OCD? Yeah, I haz it. NYC was only moist because it was so excited to see you! Ew. Mah city iz not moist.
The only thing missing from this story is lice. My OCD is festering and I think I just scratched a hole through my skin from your vivid descriptions. I’m traveling with you next time – OCD- be damned!
I heart you. and puffy paint.
I’m a major germaphobe & that outhouse story has scarred me for life. EWWWWWWW!!!!!
I am also messy not dirty, so I get it. My house is a total disaster (I have 3 kids, give me a break), but I do laundry & shower every day. So what if the clean clothes sit on the couch for a week, they are CLEAN. I also wash my hands about 10,000 times a day (OCD much?). Yeah, that’s me.
I. would. die.
I loved meeting you & hanging out with all the great ladies of aiming low.
As for NY, I love it despite the dirt. I would eat a bagel off the dirty floor. I miss bagels. Mucho.
nyc is hell for germaphonbes! i spend a large portion of my day disinfecting my office, sanitizing my hands and actively NOT touch my face, hair, etc… after subway rides…i swear to god, if ONE more person coughs into their hand then holds onto the subway bar i will FLIP OUT…
my boss walked by me today as i performed my sterilization ceremony and said…”umm…soo…a little paranoid?”
Ok, I always catch shit for my anti-germ ways, but you know what, I don’t have leprosy or a subway STD, so THERE.
I just did a whole post about my own germophobia and was even able to convert some people. Meanwhile, now that I’ve read about old-shit-water girl I think I’m going to ball up on the floor and rock myself into a coma. Thanks for destroying my life. It’s ok, it wasn’t a very good one.
Speaking of fetal positions, this confession took years of therapy, and I still won’t use public toilets. Poop is everywhere, yo.
Who’s Rev Run?
If were toilet girl, I would have milked that horror for YEARS!
dude, I am never using a port a potty again. Not that I make regular trips to them, but now we are D.O.N.E.
Ok, the 8 yr old in the feces just about had me throwing up. GAH!!
But I love NYC – maybe because the couple times I’ve been there is WASN’T like a Hot Moist Diaper…or maybe I don’t really care about hygiene and germs that much..hehe
still gagging from the outhouse bit. *whork*
I never understood the whole necessity for girl scouts to camp. Were collecting those stupid patches so important that you’d risk having to take a shit in an outhouse and possibly falling through said outhouse floor hence resembling that shit-covered kid from Slumdog Millionaire? No thank you. I can “make new friends and keep the old” from the comfort of my own home with indoor plumbing. Thanks for coming to Boston. I adore you.
Sorry to have missed you in Boston, but life got in the way. Actually, that friggin’ H1N1 crap thing got in the way, and after what you’ve been through, I figured you didn’t need any more.
And thank you for confirming:
1) why I don’t do camping, unless your idea of camping means there’s no remote for the TV, and
2) why Girl Scouts was NOT my thing! Outhouses? Not this girl!
Your posts make me laugh every time, and we need more laughter in the world, so I gave you an award on my post.
Happy Scribbling!
Sorry I missed you in Boston, but that friggin’ H1N1 crap kept me away; I figured you’d been through enough with that lately.
Thanks for reminding me why 1) I don’t go camping, unless your idea of camping is no remote for the TV, and 2) why Girl Scouts was not my thing. Outhouses? I think I’d rather have to get up to change my own channels.
Your posts are hilarious and make me laugh every day, so I gave you an award on my 11/3/09 post. Happy Scribbling!
OMG thank you! And, yes, the H1N1…how horrible is that!? Such a pain in the ass.
Depressed that I finally got off this rock and over to the East Coast and I missed all y’all by 10 days.
sigh.
I love lobster ravioli and bloggers. AND cupcakes. I would have been in heaven.
Oh Brittany, it was nice seeing you too. And yes, New York City is the filthiest place on earth (Trademark pending). When people ask why I live in Jersey I say that 10 out of 10 kids prefer grass and trees to dog poop on sidewalks and hepatitis. So we have that in common.
On the plus side my immune system is so strong that it can kick the crap out of those weak H1N1 germs you brought from the Midwest. In fact, I saw Heinz testing a new H1N1 brand ketchup today in times square just for New Yorkers. We live, eat and breathe filth in New York — and sometimes work in it!
Ok REALLY!? Why, in any bed bug story ever written, EVER, does there have to be pictures…blown up to, like, 9 million times their actual size, so that NOW, all I can picture is this disgusting bug eating me while I sleep.
That’s because they do blow up to 9 million times their actual size once the lights go down, kinda like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.
Oh awesome.
Wellll….I hope you don’t have plans tonight, because I’m NOT sleeping, and someone will have to stay up and watch the Nanny marathons on Nick at Night with me over the phone.
So glad to know you made it home safe, sound and relatively-crap-covered-free probably…I mean you WERE in NYC and Boston (I’ll refrain from mentioning the rat population in both cities exceeds that of the humans… Whoops)
now I have another reason to call ‘roughing it’ 4 Star hotels.
I need a shower after reading that.
And to disinfect something.
Gawd DAY-UM!
unlike Heather…I totally think the story is BETTER the second time
also? is there a GOOD kind of moist?
crunk? Really? You crazy kid you. I <3 NYC as well. But, i can admit it can be filthy nasty blech. However, it is an awesome place to go.
Why didn’t I tell you the story about the campground where I stayed once where the year before they had caught a man who actually waded into outhouse fecal holes so he could get his jollies watching people do their thang? Between that story, this story, and the smell, I’ma never going potty in the wood ever again. But I’m totally going back to NYC. I like their kind of moist.
Hey,
I’m a new reader. Rec’d by the girls at TwiTarded. Love your blog.
I totally thought I read : all you wanted to do was get high and score on the paperboy! Wow, my kind of girl scout. haha
That outhouse story is my worst nightmare!!! I would rather be raped in the ass than have that happen to me!!! shudder.
I totally have the same love/hate relationship with NYC. I am greatly fascinated, but deeply disgusted.
As for the outhouse? EEEWW! I am going to be having nightmares about that. Really. I am.
I have a thing with germs too. Like, I double glove at work and wipe everything down with lysol wipes and STILL use hand sanitizer and the bleachy Dispatch stuff.
I work with blood. And CSF. And DNA and chunks of human muscle (I’ll never eat pink gum again.)
But that feces story up there? Holy mother of it all that is… I can’t even fathom… what if I was the mother of that child? Like. How would I ever touch anything in my own house again after she touched it?
I’m horrified.
“If the old days included gang rape and sidewalks littered with pigeon poop and gutter condoms…” Ok, you seriously crack me up! Love NYC, regardless of the smells, stink, and whatever. Attended graduate school there, was my home for 3 years. Glad you got the t-shirt.
And they have the best pizza, too.
I am dying over that poor girl falling into the outhouse!!! That is just so seriously awful. Sorry you didn’t go for NYC. I like to visit, but I couldn’t live there – not because of the germs – because I’m a wimp.
I read that poop hole story at work AND THEN there was a guy bent over in front of me with the scariest hairy ass crack hanging out of his ill fitting jeans that I’ve ever seen! I’m talking sasquatch type hairyness and half of his ass out! And then I thought this is exactly the type of guy who would totally poop in outhouses frequented by travelling scout troups. And I couldn’t stop laughing for the rest of the day! Thanks Brittany!
That is the WORST story I have EVER heard!! Yuck! Yuck!
That is so disgusting. I had to fish out something out of a toilet. Just toilet water but still grossed me out. I am a germ a p[hobe as well. Some people tell me I am a germ a freak.
http://www.parenting-happinesstochaos.blogspot.com
Your posts are so amazingly funny! Some days I go back and read again older postings, just to overcome a bad day : )
Now I have yet another reason to not use any poop-repository-type device that does not actually have a corresponding flushing device. I mean, I already knew that NYC was a cesspool, but now I kinda have a phobia about actually falling INTO a cesspool. Like I need another phobia! Thanks, though, because it was kinda worth the laugh.
Okay, given your experience in this big city, you’ve got to tell me what you thought of Chicago in comparison.
I think you need to go through Dr. Oz shock therapy for the germs. You can’t escape them, they’re everywhere, and most of them don’t even want to hurt you. Make peace with them, and pick your battles.
That being said, by any metric, getting dunked in a pool of human waste is bad. Just… so bad.
I gave you an award over at my blog today! Congratulations!
http://sincerelyjenni.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-can-feel-love.html
Funny! Once in a NYC hotel I thought I saw a mouse between the bed and nightstand. Thankfully it was just a large, human hair ball with tonenails mixed in. I feel your germy-hotel pain, sister.
-Lela
Oh dude… your description of Moist and the City almost make me glad I wasn’t there! Almost. Still all sniffly about it. Balls.
That outhouse story is so nast, I just know I won’t sleep tonight. Thanks ever so much. Shudder!!
DAMN IT we could have had Alan Shore conversations together. IN BOSTON.
DAMN. I can’t believe I missed you when you were in Boston. Next time, I promise to be your personal tour guide.
Your outhouse story is horrific. They scare the shit out of me too. I was attending a Grateful Dead concert in Highgate, VT (aka east-bum-fuck), back in ’95 and because the lines to get in were so long, fans stormed the gates. The fence was knocked over, in turn, knocking a line-up of 40-50 porta-potties over, WITH PEOPLE IN THEM. It was vile. This concert was the middle of a friggin cow pasture. No showers or running water for miles. Scarred me for life. Your girl scouts outhouse story brought the wave of horror back. Thanks.
P.S. Moist is a gross word.
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