I’ve been going to Rockaway Beach every weekend for about a month now. I’m used to the disgusting bathrooms where the floor is always wet with some mysterious liquid that I imagine to be a mix of salt water, fresh water and piss. I’m used to the wet, sticky air and lack of toilet paper. So used to it, in fact, that I carry my own tissues, just in case.
But nothing would have prepared me for what happened today.
I, ladies and gentleman, got locked in the stall at the Rockaway bathroom. You cannot imagine the horror I felt, after I did my business, when I tried and failed to open the door of the stall. I kept turning and turning the lock and realized it wasn’t actually moving. While the knob was turning, the lock was not reacting. I began to panic. I removed all of my clothes, except for my bathing suit, and started pulling on the door but it just wouldn’t budge.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. It was so fucking hot. How long would it be before one of my friends noticed I was taking a while in the bathroom? How long before someone came looking for me?
I started waving my hand over the door in the hopes that someone on the outside could help. Dumb bitches just kept walking by and ignoring me. Finally, someone stopped. She told me to move away from the door while she tried to kick it in, but it still didn’t budge. She kept pulling and pushing and I kept doing the same while turning the lock. But nothing.
I asked her to get assistance from the bathroom attendant, and that’s when they told me that a call was placed to maintenance. It would be at least 30 minutes for them to show.
THIRTY FUCKING MINUTES locked in the wet, sticky, smelly, disgusting Rockaway Beach bathroom.
At this point, I realized I had two options: wait for someone to come figure out how to open the door, which would probably take hours, or slide my Hispanic ass under the divider to the next stall. Looking down, I wasn’t even sure I could fit underneath the stall. Would I be willing to take the chance of getting on that disgusting floor only to get stuck there too? Did I really want all the strange random water and filth to touch my beautiful skin?
I had to figure something out. I knew one thing and one thing only: I would not let the dirty ass bathroom win, no matter what. I realized my only tools were the things I had on me: some bracelets and a ring. And that’s when the genius set in.
I opened my bracelet and took it off. With one part of the clasp and a good ten minutes of fidgeting in the dark muggy room, I managed to unscrew the lock fro.m the door. Once I could see the inside of the lock, I could fit my fingers in to force it open. I ripped that piece of shit off and VIOLA! FREEDOM!
I won’t lie, I ran THE FUCK out of there. I will never go into a bathroom stall without double checking the lock again.
Also, I’m a fucking straight up bad ass.
And yet I can’t look away. So I will liveblog…
- Why am I still watching this?
- Why does Julia have such a puffy fucking face?
- How does she expect to land a husband with a PRINCESS PARKING ONLY SIGN IN HER FUCKING BEDROOM?
- Is she fucking serious? She does realize she’s a real human being, right?
- She’s like a dating vampire.
- OF COURSE HE DOESN’T WANT TO KISS HER. Jesus.
- “In my 20’s this worked like a charm.” —Julia Allison
- She is begging a man to kiss her on national television.
- This is truly fucking embarrassing.
- Oh surprise surprise, she’s going to cry again on the next episode!
Thank you and god bless. That validation was better than a super crazy hot dude hitting on me.
Using the word “chat” in an email, or any correspondence for that matter, is an automatic delete.
Little guy free fell five feet to the cold hard tile, but he’s still swimming!
Nobody else? Just me?
It’s Father’s Day. Now please stop posting pics of your dad holding the baby version of you. Nobody cares but you and your mommy.