Oh, to find inspiration in the strangest things…
@sixuntilme mentioned on Twitter today that she had received some comment spam about valuable poop. Only minutes later, I received a junk e-mail at work from the domain monsterpiss.com. (By the way, that domain apparently doesn’t exist, imagine that?)
From there it accelerated into a discussion about the Monsterpiss that sometimes comes before a diabetes diagnosis or with extremely high blood sugars. And whether Bigfoot is diabetic, thanks to @ninjabetic. (Don’t ask, it was the end of the work day. Yes, we all tweet during the work day. Oh come ON, don’t act like YOU don’t.)
And it all led to the story I am about to tell. (Yes, I realize that I will likely receive comment spam about poop and piss and other bodily functions thanks to this entire post.)
The setting is some small college town in central Wisconsin, then Minneapolis. And everywhere in between.
A young college-aged woman is about to take a road trip with a young college-aged man. One whom she has only met once in real life, though there has been plenty of online bantering on internet message boards. These two young people seem rather smitten with each other.
The woman knew her parents would be shocked if they knew her plans to travel four hours away to Minneapolis for a party weekend with some strange young college-aged man. This led to a lie about how someone else, a trusted female friend, would be picking her up and taking her on this road trip.
And there’s one more significant detail - the party weekend was to be hosted by the young man’s latest ex-girlfriend. (She just happened to frequent the same message boards as the other three young people already mentioned. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.)
So between the big lie, and the unfamilarity with this young man, and then the ex-girlfriend factor, she was quite nervous about the adventure. She reasoned with herself that she was 20, living at the dorms at school, far away from the parents – she could live her own life. And yet, nerves struck.
Back in those days, this young woman would drink HFCS-laden pop, though she would never dare do so today. (Yes, it was called “pop” where she came from.) Never fear, she never gained an ounce from such activity back then – her metabolism was at a high. When she was nervous, she had a tendency to drink a lot of said pop. This was, of course, before she had learned about using alcohol to help with a little social anxiety.
The young woman bought a 20 oz bottle of some of this HFCS-laden pop and the young man bought a similar sized bottle of diet pop. You see, this young man had type 1 diabetes and was not about to imbibe the HFCS-laden pop. (Well, to be honest, these were the days before HFCS was evil and people were concerned about carbohydrates other than sugar. He wasn’t going to drink it because of the sugar content.)
And so, the young woman eventually opened up her bottle of pop and drank it rather fast. Before they both knew it, they had nearly traveled all the way to the border with Minnesota. And that is when the young woman noticed an urge to urinate.
She knew the young man wanted to drive straight through so they wouldn’t miss too much of the Friday night fun. Rather than complain, she crossed her legs like a lady and kept her mouth shut. By the time they arrived in the Twin Cities, those legs were definitely clenched as far as they could be.
She was relieved to learn that they would be at the ex-girlfriend’s doorstep before too long and finally let the young man know of the urgent need to urinate. He acted quite surprised, as he had instances of high blood sugar where he could hold his bladder for much longer than she had apparently done. She told him her first stop would most certainly be the ladies’ room.
Only it wasn’t, when they arrived at the other young lady’s apartment, there were people to meet and bags to drop. In what seemed like forever, instead of a matter of minutes, she ventured towards the ladies’ room, knowing it could only be seconds before she might piss her pants. What she experienced once she sat on the toilet could only be described as Monsterpiss. That’s right, with a capital M. She had never felt such urinary relief in her entire life.
And as soon as she was done in the ladies’ room? She promptly headed out to the balcony for her first shot of tequila, with that trusted female friend and the young man’s ex-girlfriend. And so, her first trip to the ladies’ room was not the last Monsterpiss of the weekend, not with the alcohol consumed throughout.
The young man and the young woman are still together today, nearly fourteen years after that weekend. She still drinks far too much liquid (though not of the HFCS-laden kind) on road trips, making for interesting stops in the middle of nowhere (and occasional teasing from him), particularly now that she has her own diabetes in the form of type 2.
(And it seems he still does not understand that a woman’s bladder and anatomy are quite different from a male’s, calling for more frequent trips to the ladies’ room, Monsterpiss or not.)