Fatale Abstraction

Someone brilliant recently said "bathroom emergencies are why God gave us Super Big Gulp™ cups." Ok. It was me. I said it and I stand by that statement.

Or the big yellow cups from Dickey's Barbecue - you locals know what I'm talking about. Once husband and I were on the road in his Suburban, and nature called me rather insistently. There were three options: I could either sully the nice upholstery and render his road hog an olfactory nightmare for the remainder of the trip, stop somewhere miles up the road, or pee in a handy Dickey's barbecue cup. Guess what I chose? Damned skippy I peed in the cup. It was a suburban, for heaven's sake, and I relished the engineering challenge. Actually, at that point I was beyond all reasoning. Mission accomplished, we laughed and laughed, and all the while I'm holding the ickily warm yellow cuppa as merrily we rolled along. We turned from the highway onto a smaller road, and I thought that was my chance to discreetly pour the urine out the window, yeah? I know - musta been full of beer not to think that one through. Of course, not only was the side of the suburban inevitably going to be given a golden shower, I gave no thought to the rate at which we were traveling, and I held the cup out, upright, and before I could tip it in either direction, the wind ripped it out of my hands. Ruh roh raggy!

We'll never know if the car behind us got a bit of blow-back or if they were just outraged that I let fly a plastic product in the wilds of nature, but some scowling people drove by shaking their fist at me from their environmentalist be-stickered auto. Meddlesome hall-monitor-assed bitches!

Uh, husband just read this post and said it was a Wendy's Biggie cup. Well, at least I got the yellow part right. Dickey's sounded more fun, though, dinnit?