Karmic Bitch (Part 3)

I’m trapped in my elevator. And guess what? I have to pee. Nobody’s surprised here, right? I’ve actually had to pee for over 2-hours, and was so happy when I got into the elevator knowing that I’d be in my apartment in less than 30-seconds. I wasn’t worried. Now that I’m caught in the elevator, I’m crazy worried.

I live in a small building. Often you don’t run into anyone else for weeks. Even months some time. It’s nice because you feel like you live in your own building, but it sucks when you’re stuck in the elevator.

With no cell phone on me, my only hope is the emergency button. I start pressing it, and it makes this annoying ringing. Press. Ring. Press. Ring. Of course nobody’s ever around so it’s useless.

After pressing it a few times I realize I heard this noise a few nights ago and had no idea what it was. I turned my music up and ignored it. Now I know it was somebody stuck in the elevator. Another thing for Karma to hate about me.

I stop pressing the button and look in my bag of groceries. There’s no jar. No containers. No nothing to pee in. This is what you get for eating fruits and vegetables.

A few hours earlier I went to the gym and ran five miles. I drank ten glasses of water while I was at the gym. Then I came home, showered and drank another ten glasses of water. Blow dried my hair. Drank more water. Got dressed. Drank some more water. Running inside makes you hot and thirsty. This is all a good argument for why people should stay home and sit on the couch.

Then I peed and left my apartment for two hours. I did a bunch of errands and definitely needed to pee again, but figured I was close to home and I’d just wait until I got into my apartment. I waited for what seemed like forever at the grocery store, but I was only steps away from my apartment. Once in the elevator, all I could think about was going to the bathroom. And now I’m stuck in the elevator potentially forever.

Most people would be afraid of dying. The elevator falling. Hurting themselves. Claustrophobia. Anything else than what I was afraid of. I wasn’t even scared because all my brain could focus on was not being able to pee. I was sitting on the floor of the elevator for what felt like an eternity when I thought I heard something.

Frantically, I started pushing the button. It was making the crazy ringing noise. Finally a voice, “Are you stuck in the elevator?" I screamed, “Yes and I have to pee.” This guy, I never met, told me, “Don’t worry. I’ll get the super.” I started to tell him to call the fire department, but he left so quick I couldn’t get it out.

Pain. I had been sitting and needing to pee and now that I was standing it was painful. The super lived a few buildings down. I waited and waited and waited. I wondered if the guy got distracted and forgot. I swore I wouldn’t do it. But suddenly there was no choice.

There’s a carpet on the floor of the elevator, and I push it to the side. I’m wearing jeans so I figure it won’t be very noticeable. Anything would be better than the

white pants.

I let a little pee out and it goes right down my leg onto the floor. Did I think my legs were made of sponge? I peed a little. Then a little more. And finally some more. Such a relief. There was much more pee left in me, but I was hoping I’d be able to finish in a bathroom. Who knew how much longer I’d be here? I wonder if something happened to the guy.

And then I hear the sirens. Men running up the stairs. Someone screams, “It’s the fire department. We’re going to get you out. Don’t worry.” And I want to die. Again. Piss! Damn you! Why have you done this to me? If I knew help would be here so quick, after waiting so long, believe me I would’ve held it. Trust me. I’m now stuck standing in my own urine with nowhere to run. This is worst than with Piss Bed Guy, I think.

They pry the doors of the elevator open, and I’m standing in my wet jeans. On a wet floor. And it’s all my fault. Six beefy hot guys are dressed in their cute fire man outfits with an ax and crow bar ready to save me. If only they had brought a port-a-potty and some towels.

One guy says, “Are you okay?” I said, “Sorta. I was stuck for hours in here and really had to pee. I peed on myself, and it’s really gross. So now that the door is open I can take it from here.” But the elevator was stuck between floors and you know these guys are heroes. Burning buildings. Fires. And now Piss Girl. They’re not going to just let me do this on my own.

One guy jumped down and effortlessly boosted me up while the others lifted me. These guys were awesome. Seriously strong and hot. There was this one who was really cute and as the guy in the elevator gave me my groceries, Cutie Pie was chatting me up.

Can I really date someone who’s seen me standing in my own urine? It didn’t work with Piss Bed Guy. I thought maybe this was my chance. I’d date Cutie Pie, and give him my real phone number, and never pee in his bed. And now it’s full circle. A guy. Pee at the wrong time. The right phone number. Pee on my pants. And Cutie Pie’s name was John. It’s all coming together. But then he takes off his gloves, and I see a wedding ring. Karma! She did it again.

But I don’t want to think about Karma and me right now. I’m deliriously happy while I sit on my toilet with my pee jeans around my ankles. Relieved to be out of the elevator finally peeing in a toilet. It’s hard not to laugh about this one. Until we meet again, Karma. Until we meet again.

Karmic Bitch (Part 2)

It’s a few months later. It’s a freezing cold night, and me and some friends are out drinking. At the last bar, during the last hour, we run into Toothless Pete. He’s one of my friends’ cousins. He’s been in so many brawls that at one point he was missing a few teeth. He has them all now. Regardless, he’s a lush and a good guy all rolled into one.

He has no where to stay. Wasted and dumb, we can’t just send him out into the streets. Everyone else was staying at my apartment so he stays too.

First thing in the morning what do I wake up to? “Um, wake up. I think I pissed on your couch. Wake up. I pissed on your couch. I pissed on your couch.” My brand new couch. With all these girls sleeping over, how the hell did he get the couch?

At this point I’ve lost a chair and now a couch. There’s not much furniture left in my small apartment. And with a major piece of furniture ruined, Karma must be done right? But then...

I’m stuck in traffic, and it’s taking 45-minutes to go three blocks. I just drank a ton of water, and I’ve had to pee since I started driving. Seeing a place to park, I pull over and run into this random bar. The bathroom is filthy and small.

I get into a squat. Then I go down a little lower. Checking around to make sure I’m not too close to touching anything. A little lower. Check. A little lower. Check. And then when I think I’m finally able to pee, I let loose and wind up peeing on my white pants. Did I mention I’m late and on my way to meet a blind date? Karma!

It’s a year later and who do I see out in a bar, but Piss Bed Guy. This must be a test. Maybe Karma is giving me a chance to make up for what happened.

Instead of running out of the bar, which was my first reaction, I ran right over to him.

I wonder if he knows I’m Piss Girl. It was me who peed in his bed. Or maybe he thinks he’s Piss Guy, and it’s ruined his game. Does Karma want me to ‘fess up? I have no idea.

Piss Bed Guy hasn’t accused me of anything, and he genuinely seems happy to see me. It’s getting late. I’d already slept with him once so sleeping with him again didn’t really count. Back to his place. Round two.

We’re hooking up when suddenly, I hear this noise. We move. The noise. We move more. The noise. It’s this ssshhh ssshhh sorta sound. And we can’t seem to get away from it. The sheet at the top of the bed starts to come up. Ssshhh ssshhh. I couldn’t even get into my hook up because between the noise and wondering if the bed was new or not, I couldn’t focus. Ssshhh ssshhh. And then all of a sudden I realize the source of the noise. Rubber sheets. Piss Bed Guy bought rubber sheets. Bad second hook up.

We’re laying there, and all I wanted to do was run. I looked over at him and quietly said, “I peed in your bed a year ago. I’m really sorry. I was so embarrassed, and I didn’t know what to do. I just ran out. Can I buy you a new bed?”

Piss Bed Guy was cool. He smiles and says, “I know. When I woke up in the morning and saw what happened I figured that’s why you left. It’s an old bed. No big deal.”

Okay, what? Does this guy have any standards? He should be a little more annoyed. We chat a little, and then I leave and give him a fake phone number. I can’t date a guy who is okay with a random girl peeing in his bed, and then instead of replacing the bed he just throws rubber sheets on it. Please. And I’m sure that’s going to be fine with Karma. I came clean. I offered to pay for the bed. She didn’t expect me to marry the guy. Right? Apparently, I was wrong. Who do I think I am trying to understand Karma?

TO BE CONTINUED...

Karmic Bitch (Part 1)

Karma. You get what you deserve. What comes around goes around. Is Karma for real? I’ve spent years paying for a past mistake. A mistake so reprehensible that I’m a believer. Do the karmic ramifications make up for the misdeed? Not sure. I just hope my debt is paid. Because seriously, this is getting ridiculous.

Right after college, I drank all the time. No matter who you are, when you drink too much, we all have one thing in common: pee. There is nothing like peeing when you’re drunk. Such a release. And it was pee that got me in trouble.

It’s the same old story with a twist You’re out with friends. You run into a friend of a friend of a friend who happens to be cute. Everybody is drinking. The cute

guy becomes cuter. You drink more. He gets funny. Another cocktail. You get horny. A fun one night stand. Morning comes quick. You wake up, and here’s the twist, in your own urine.

What? Help! I know! I can’t believe that’s now in print. But yes, I woke up and realized that not only did I just sleep with a semi-cute guy, but at some point I used his bed as a toilet. He was still sleeping next to me, and I tried to think of a way it could’ve been him but knew it wasn’t.

Is this really my life? I can just hear him talking to his friends, “it was a fun hook up until she took a whiz in my bed.” I shuddered the thought.

Slowly, I slipped out of his bed. Like a ghost. I was barely breathing while willing him to stay asleep. I grabbed my stuff and practically got dressed in the hallway. Fleeing the scene of the crime as fast as was humanly possible, I went home, changed and went to work late. No more tequila shots ever again.

A few days later I’m off from work. Nothing better. Until I had a and run in with Old John. He’s this angry guy who lives in my building. The quintessential, furious, old New Yorker.

He was by the elevator waiting to go up to his apartment, but when he heard me coming down the stairs he backed up his walker and screamed, “Who’s there?” Causing him to fall.

“Help! Help!” he screamed out. He was crumpled on the floor like a bag of laundry. I tried to help him up, but it was impossible. Dead weight. I wanted to help Old John back up to his apartment, but what if he was really hurt? I had an idea.

I told Old John to stay where he was. Like he had a choice. I ran up to my apartment. I called an ambulance, and then I grabbed my chair from my desk. I brought the chair down to where he was and put Old John in it.

He loved the chair. He said, “This is a nice chair.” And it was. It was one of those ergonomic, super comfortable, molds to your body, adjustable height type of chairs. It was fantastic. A great chair. Love the chair.

I told Old John about the ambulance coming and explained why it was important. Shockingly, he understood. I could’ve told him anything, as long as he was sitting in that chair, he was fine.

The paramedics arrived, and I hear this word. A word you don’t want to hear when someone is sitting in your amazingly awesome, ergonomic chair. Incontinence. I pull one of the paramedics over to the side, and he confirms that Old John just peed on my chair.

Karma had just bitch slapped me. Hard. I guess I deserved to loose that chair. I rolled it out to the curb. But who knew she was just getting started.

TO BE CONTINUED...