Same Old Story

So, my lady coworker friends threw me a bridal shower last Friday night. Eeek, it was so much fun! (And I walked out with half a sheetcake, too, so...) But anywho, I knew before going that I'd get asked "How did he propose?" (a story I LOVE to tell), which got me thinking about all the stories we spend our lives telling and retelling. Earlier this week, being my regular eavesdropping self, I happened to overhear my cubicle neighbor, a 50 year-old family man, on the telephone. He was recounting times when he gifted his wife jewelry (times I gathered were out-of-the-blue giftings, not holidays or anniversaries. I know--adorable). He mentioned the time he put a diamond bracelet in a flashlight and handed it to his wife, saying, "You light up my life." He also mentioned the time he put a fancy-shamncy ring in the prize bag in a Cracker Jacks box. His wife opened the box and reached for a handful of deliciously carmelized popcorn and nuts, her fingers finding themselves wrapped around a heavier-than-plastic ring instead. Freakishly fabulous find, huh? I know. No wonder that man retells the story. Makes him look like a regular gift-giving god. But, putting aside my gift envy for a second, I can't stop thinking about the stories that are my staples, my bread-n-butta. Certainly the day A and I got engaged is my newest favorite, as recounting all the preciously planned details of that day woo a room full of women like George Clooney might (not to mention, I spoke to Kevin Bacon IN PERSON that day, so it's a double prize kind of story, as in doubly entertaining).

But there's also the story from when I was 10 years old and had pneumonia. I fell asleep on the black-top at recess, an act that broke the camel's back and got me sent home--sleeping at recess! Ha! As if that's the all-determining factor regarding a kid's sickness or wellness. And there's a Part 2 to that story, as well. I had a soccer game later that week, and for some unknown reason, I was determined to go. I feigned wellness as best I could, telling my parents I felt great and was totally pumped for the game. Driving to the game, however, I thew up out the window. My dad put his hand on my back and said, "I knew you were too sick to play today, but I thought we could at least watch the game. But that idea's no good either." I told him that throwing up had made me feel instantly better and that I wanted to stay and watch the game. Walking to the field, however, I threw up again! I've never thrown up so much in my life as I did that day! And in public! Needless to say, my dad turned me right around and drove me home. And there are so many more stories that I love to tell! Stories that I've worked over and over and so are exponentially better now, but that's not the point! My point is to get you thinking about YOUR stories, those infamous moments which, when shared, wow a crowd again and again and again. And then share them with ME. Please. Now. Thank you.

Daily Dose of Dillies: Public Restrooms (Don't ew yet).

While I'm usually one to bash public bathrooms--they're uninviting, unsanitary, and un-private--I've had a minor change of heart, minor in that I've changed my mind about certain public bathrooms. The first being the bathrooms in the office building where I work. Here's the sitch: I arrive at work at 8AM everyday. As soon as I log into my time-tracker-keeper (it's official name), I hustle over to the break room, pour myself a huge cup of coffee, and proceed to gulp it down as fast as its temperature allows me. Which means that come 8:30, I've got the fullest bladder known to man. So, I go to the bathroom. At 8:30. Every day. (Here's the part where I reveal the reason behind my change of heart...) I open the door. The lights are off. I smile to myself. I'm the first pee-pee-er of the day! I turn on the lights as if it's my own personal bathroom to which I reserve the electricity rights. I then proceed to walk by each empty stall, all the toilets freshly cleaned and ready for the day's use, and pick one at random. I semi-confidently step inside (when before I used my shirt sleeves, my elbows, my feet! to set-up shop, refusing to let an inch of my skin touch ANYTHING). It's glorious, I tell you, having an entire public bathroom to yourself! The choicest stalls, PLENTY of toilet paper, no need to be quiet (sometimes I hum in the bathroom; don't you?), no worries about hurrying for the next person in line, no water-logged countertops soaking your shirt or pants, and you can take as long as you want in front of the mirror without fellow pee-ers thinking you're vain! No longer does the public bathroom feel uninvited, unsanitary, and un-private. Brilliant! Best part of the work day maybe, my morning soiree with the stalls :)

But the office bathrooms aren't the only bathrooms I've grown to appreciate. There are the Nordstrom bathrooms! Or the "Women's Lounge" as it's hoity-toit-ily named. There are couches and full-length mirrors and the stalls have a million hooks for hanging your purse, your jacket, your shopping bags, your...well, if you had something else, there'd be a hook to hang it on. If I'm on the other end of the mall and need to pee, I hold it in just so I can use the Nordstrom bathrooms! Intense? I know.

With all my positive public bathroom experiences, I've taken to checking out restaurants' restrooms, too (specifically sit-down restaurants' restrooms though...no McDonald's McNastiness for moi). Not only are restaurant bathrooms generally the cleanest of the bunch, but they tend to be fancier. There's this restaurant in Denver called Jing; their see-through glass bathroom doors fog over and opaque the minute you lock them! Or how about Del Frisco's bathrooms! They've got terry cloth towels for drying your hands! And hairspray! And floss! And breath mints! Most importantly, however, going to a restaurant's bathroom provides one with the opportunity to say, "I'm gonna go freshen up real quick." Freshen up? Don't mind if I do ;)

*image from http://conversationarts.wordpress.com/2009/05/26/storytelling-to-motivate/