Bathrooms and Putfirs

Well, where to start? Ok, we'll start with the bathrooms. The other night we went to this VERY fancy French restaurant for dinner. Lovely place right smack on Waikiki Beach. When I say right smack on, I mean that. All the windows are open ( as in... no glass) and you could conceivably leap out a window to the sand 3 feet below. Gorgeous place. Beautiful view! I had forgotten there was a place like that here. I had a perfect vegetarian meal that cost a mere $37.00! Ala carte. Oiks. Luckily, someone else was buying because I would faint if I knew what my entire bill was.

Anyway, along about halfway through, I have to shishi. Guess what that means. :D So, I toddle off to the ladies room. Now, the ladies room is NOT open to the beach. It has doors and walls everything. Enclosed, if you will. Encapsulated.

So, I go into a stall and discover there is a gale force wind blowing through the stall. Really. I valiantly try to put the paper cover on the seat. It was like the Keystone Kops. It kept blowing off and I kept trying to put it back. Now, because it had blown onto the floor several times, it is no longer sterile, right? I throw it away and try again. WHAT is wrong with me?

Meanwhile, I am trying to figure out just WHERE is this wind coming from? I mean... you remember that famous picture of Marilyn Monroe standing on the grate with her white dress blowing up? This is EXACTLY what the toilet paper is doing. It is dancing and getting longer and longer while I watch. I can't decide which is more fun. Watching the TP dance off its roll or struggling to get the seat cover to stay long enough so I can sit down. And I never do discerne just where this wind is coming from.

While I would normally have thought this was great fun, I had been drinking champagne and had to pee! [ I had to pee, Pee! :)] I finally gave up and let the cover plaster itself against the wall of the adjoining stall. Meanwhile, I now have TP that is about a quarter mile long... ruffling all they way. I start to snicker. It look like it is alive.

All of a sudden I think this is a scream and start laughing out loud. Equally, all of a sudden, the entire bathroom gets REALLY quiet except for the gale force wind which is now blowing about Force 6.

All the Japanese women who had been laughing, fixing their make up and talking get ominously quiet. This, naturally, makes me laugh harder. I am hysterical. The Japanese tourists have headed in droves for the door. I can hear their cries of alarm. They think there is an out-of-control person in the stall. They are right.

I wait quietly. I figure security will be in soon whereupon I will express righteous indignation and stomp off to my table demanding more champagne. :D Most excellent stuff. :D

For some reason, nobody shows up to remove the offending old woman who is delirious in the bathroom. I make my way back to the table and dinner proceeds.

Now, a few days have gone by. I have made it out of Michel's unrestrained by 300 pound security guards. But. I seem to be having problems with Micheles.

This is not only the name of the wonderful restaurant but is also the name of my sister. I am experiencing Michel/Michele issues.

Sister and I are IMing. This is fun. While I am insane, sister Michele is staid and down to earth and revoltingly normal. I will probably write her out of my will for this transgression.

Anyway, it has taken me a while but I have finally got it across to her that it's ok to misspell on IM as it is better to leave something misspelled rather than to leave the person to whom you are speaking hanging while you edit. Michele will not only fix her spelling but will also fix all the syntax and punctuation then look up any proper sentence structure she may have forgotten while learning to diagram one. And you guys wonder why I love my wine. This is a small part of the reason. :)

Good. So, Sister Michele is trying to say something about shipping stuff. She says something akin to , "... so UPS or one of those putfirs can do it...". What? Putfirs? WTF is she talking about? I am stymied. I also feel immanent hysteria approaching. " You lousy putfir!" "Ok, all you %(**%$# putfirs... up against the wall!" Like that. "Putfirs of America, unite!" :D

Now, Michele is one of those people who would curl up and croak before saying an off color word. I, as you all know, am not afflicted thusly. :D So, I tease her about her new swear word. She actually agrees that it does, in fact, sound like "a bad word". Sigh. I am actually related to this paragon. Scary, don'tcha think? She's SUCH a putfir! So, henceforth and verily, we will now refer to anyone/thing we don't like, as a "putfir". :D