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snowy_kathryn and I went to RPM, a cardio cycling class. I'd never been to a spin class before, and was dubious about the whole thing. Although I do a lot of road biking, exercise bikes have always been harsh on my knees. But I gave it a go, and quite liked it!
Kathryn, unfortunately, is having comfort issues with bike seats, and it has been decided that RPM stands for Raw Pussy Maker.
When I'd finished the hour of crazy biking madness, I dashed over and did an hour of weight-training, and Kathryn bowlegged her way home.
By the end of that second hour, I was really feeling the exertion. I'm going to be good and sore tomorrow! If not, I want my money back. Anyhow, Kathryn met me after my class so we could go to the Farmers' Market together. But first I had to pee.
Now, I am one of those people who never sits on public toilets. I'm not too keen on possibly getting myself a scathing case of crabs. So while I did my usual hover-piss, I reached over to grab myself some toilet paper.
When I looked back, something had gone horribly wrong.
Maybe it's from all the biking jamming everything in bizarre configurations, or maybe it's from my hygiene-challenged Sims dude, but my piss was flowing hard right. By the time I clued in, I'd dumped half a bladder full on the edge of the toilet. It ricocheted off the bowl and onto the wall, my boot, and the floor. I thank my mighty pelvic floor muscles for stepping on the brakes. I mopped up the whole sordid mess with a tree's worth of toilet paper, and the rest of the bladder load stayed on target.
I'm so grateful no one was in the adjacent stall, and I'm equally grateful I didn't eat asparagus with supper last night.
snowy_kathryn and I went to RPM, a cardio cycling class. I'd never been to a spin class before, and was dubious about the whole thing. Although I do a lot of road biking, exercise bikes have always been harsh on my knees. But I gave it a go, and quite liked it!Kathryn, unfortunately, is having comfort issues with bike seats, and it has been decided that RPM stands for Raw Pussy Maker.
When I'd finished the hour of crazy biking madness, I dashed over and did an hour of weight-training, and Kathryn bowlegged her way home.
By the end of that second hour, I was really feeling the exertion. I'm going to be good and sore tomorrow! If not, I want my money back. Anyhow, Kathryn met me after my class so we could go to the Farmers' Market together. But first I had to pee.
Now, I am one of those people who never sits on public toilets. I'm not too keen on possibly getting myself a scathing case of crabs. So while I did my usual hover-piss, I reached over to grab myself some toilet paper.
When I looked back, something had gone horribly wrong.
Maybe it's from all the biking jamming everything in bizarre configurations, or maybe it's from my hygiene-challenged Sims dude, but my piss was flowing hard right. By the time I clued in, I'd dumped half a bladder full on the edge of the toilet. It ricocheted off the bowl and onto the wall, my boot, and the floor. I thank my mighty pelvic floor muscles for stepping on the brakes. I mopped up the whole sordid mess with a tree's worth of toilet paper, and the rest of the bladder load stayed on target.
I'm so grateful no one was in the adjacent stall, and I'm equally grateful I didn't eat asparagus with supper last night.
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Date: 2006-05-13 07:11 pm (UTC)From:I am totally with
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Date: 2006-05-13 11:56 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2006-05-14 07:31 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2006-05-14 04:27 am (UTC)From:;-)
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Date: 2006-05-14 07:30 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2006-05-13 08:40 pm (UTC)From:diarrhoea and that happens. :(
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Date: 2006-05-13 11:56 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2006-05-14 02:49 am (UTC)From: