Nothing.

Instead of turning the knob, I wiggled it, then turn and push, wiggled, then turn and push.

Nope.

Still, finding it rather entertaining to be stuck in a bathroom, I unleashed the MacGyver within me by trying other various clever of ways to get the knob to turn thus opening the door.

Nothing worked, and that’s when I knew I was really stuck in the bathroom…and I wasn’t MacGyver.

Since I knew the guys who were working on our house was right outside of my bathroom, I was debating for two minutes whether I should cry out for help or not. I really wanted to but I was too embarrassed, I also didn’t want to disrupt their conversation. Yes, I know, I guess I’d rather be stuck inside of a bathroom (which mind you is about the size of a port-o-potty, possibly smaller) sniffing what smells like ass all day, then to disrupt their break.

Sweat started to bead on my forehead and my heart began to race as I shook, yanked, and pushed the door knob. Five excruciating long minutes began to pass and progress has not been made.

I could feel the blood leave my face as I braced for what was to come: Slowly suffocating in my own after-shit smell while the workers were smoking and chit-chatting just a few feet away from me. I went delusional, the thought of simply knocking on the door and then saying, “Hey guys, I’m stuck in this bathroom, can you please try to open it? kthx” was still out of the question, my composure and patience were entirely thrown out the window, and I started to attack the door with ruthless abandon.

I was grunting and moaning while ramming into the door repeatedly with the side of my arms. Few minutes later, tears started to blur my vision; I decided to give my arms a rest by switching over to my legs, and while all of this is happening, I can hear the workers talking about where to eat for lunch. Being trapped in a small, windowless bathroom is one of the most terrifying things I have ever experienced. To me, it felt like I was in a coffin standing upright which happend to have a toilet in it. Eventually everything, especially hearing them talk about lunch, was just unbearable for me so I surrendered and gave out a loud and boisterous, “YEEELLPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!”

Someone on the other side of the door ask, “Are you…are you stuck?”

“Yes.”

He opens the door like any other door that doesn’t have a fucked up doorknob, and looks at me with caution as if he was expecting me to attack him and then steal his wallet.

“I was hearing stuff, but I thought it was…never mind,” he chuckles and then begins to study the doorknob.

I walked passed the rest of the guys and none of them were making eye contact with me. Probably thought I was a crazy person for air hugging the air after coming out of the bathroom.

Feeling a bit traumatized, I went to my mom right after and bitched about the door and how I was stuck inside for over ten minutes. You know what she did? She laughed. Not only did she laugh, but she ROFL’d in real life.

“Dude go away, your food sucks,” I pushed her away (rolled her away might be the more appropriate term) and she was still laughing at me. Meh, I love my mom, and I love air.

What’s even more horrifying is seeing people’s jackets lying on the floor. I mean, if you’re going to lay your jacket on the restroom floor, intentionally, as you’re taking a piss, might as well throw it into the toilet that you’re pissing in. I’ve personally seen puddles of piss scattered throughout the floor inside of those stalls many, many times. No one’s going to clean it up, it dries up, and it stays there.

I bet you dudes are wondering how that could’ve happen in a women’s restroom, the piss puddles. See, some chicks prefer “hovering”. In this particular method, their ass cheeks doesn’t come in physical contact with the toilet seat and is only a few inches apart from each other (the ass and the seat). The ones that can do it do it like a champ. They are precise and their piss strategically spurts into the bowl without touching anything else. Beautiful.

The ones that don’t know how to hover but do it anyways, however, have weak knees. When in hovering position, knees are sloppily bent at a 130 degree angle (when it should be 90, at the least) and wobbling legs would commence. As a result, piss skips the toilet bowl and lands fucking everywhere.

Those kinds of inconsiderate hags should be banned from hovering, and they’re probably the same people who leave shit sit on the top of the toilet seat too.

Speaking of slick, do you know who’s not slick?

Me.

After the film, we hung out at Pris’s yard, chit chattin’ and what not, and part of the discussion concerned epic karate moves. I was demonstrating to them the art of an authentic roundhouse kick, and my foot landed on doggy doo right after doing it. I was wearing my favorite shoes too.

Instead of getting praises for my roundhouse kick, I only heard laughter for stepping on doggy doo.

Yeah, good one Tiff. No one’s ever going to take your roundhouse kicks seriously anymore!

Stepping on dog shit, or any kind of shit, sucks, but when something like that happens, I usually try to find the bright side of things. In this case, I stepped on a firm, dried up ol’ piece of turd, which is, hands down, way better than stepping on a soaked and freshly shitted mountain mush with steam coming off of it.

Tomorrow will be a better day.

I met a crazy lady at a park about two days ago and she frantically warned me to take a long vacation outside of the state as soon as possible. She predicted that there’s going to be a massive earthquake that’s going to take place in southern Cali soon and it’s going one of the deadliest ones that will kill hundreds of thousands of lives.

I thanked her, but I didn’t listen to her warnings since she was crazy.

Two days later, which was today, the moment when everything around me started to shake and wobble, I thought, “Maybe that crazy lady isn’t so crazy…fucking mother of shit WE’RE GOING TO DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

We’re ok.

The earthquake lasted about 10-15 seconds here, and the terrifying experience has lead me to prep myself for the next potential disaster. Since we have a baby in the house, my sister and I talked about it and we made notes of the best spots in our house to hide under if it ever happens.

The plan sounds effective and all, but I even asked her, “What if I’m in the middle of taking a shit and all that goes down?”

I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything but has anyone ever thought of that? Has anyone ever died or gotten injured by getting clobbered by the falling ceilings while they’re trying to shit?

Man, that’s the one of the WORST time of the day to have an earthquake. I sure hope that doesn’t happen to any of us.