Tag Archives: toilet humor

Lest I Digress

10 Jul
I am going to segue from the present course of my mourning to share a bit of comedic error as experienced by me, while in Japan.  If you are a long time reader of my writing, you already know that I find those things connected to our natural bodily functions to be quite comical.  If you are new, brace yourself! 😉
I like Japan!  Of course, I knew in advance it would be an easier trip than Europe due to the non-stop flight and the fact the Japanese do not go on strike!  And even though our schedule was packed and fully coordinated, the travel and hotel situation ran smoothly.  I also think the language barrier was a nice respite for me as it allowed many opportunities for me to be silent (which my soul appreciates right now).  But onward to the fun of the day…

The toilets.

What is not to love?  You sit down and the seat is heated.  There are so many buttons to push, and me being a sworn-in button-pushingaholic, must push each and every one.  Now this approach can be quite surprising and depending on where the water pressure adjustment has been set, can also be quite alarming—think drugstore enema (Fleet I believe).  But oh how fun, they even have a button which makes an artificial flushing sound, just in case you want to have a noise louder than your bodily functions.  I especially like this button as it is identified by a music symbol…I am now “in the know” that the sound of a flushing toilet is considered music!

Japanese Bidet

“Action Jackson”
Hotel room bidet button panel

I have had a bit of trouble twice (well if I am honest, I had a bit of trouble often–everything is written in Japanese, of which I know zilch).  The first time was when we visited a national shrine.  The toilet situation was more ‘traditional’, I guess you could say.  A porcelain hole in the ground.  It looks quite like a male urinal and I had to go outside to “verify” I was in fact in the ladies restroom.  Turns out I was but I still didn’t know how to maneuver the apparatus–the porcelain one and my own.  I’ll enclose a photo (of the toilet only!).
Japanese toilet

Skip to the loo my darlin’

I came across another one of these toilets at a ‘location photo shoot’ which happened to be in a Japanese hot-rod shop.  Now I wasn’t too worried when I had to urinate because, unlike the States, all toilet facilities, up to that point, had been very clean.  And the hot-rod shop, Pumkin Sally (http://pumpkinsally.blogspot.jp/), was no different.  But the porcelain hole, instead of being on the ground, was on a step up with two metal plates along each side of it.  …consider me clueless!  I was hoping not to spray the walls, or the floor for that matter, as my anatomy isn’t exactly a “straight shot!”

Well yesterday evening, while conversing with the wife of our host and the head buyer for men’s clothing for the Freak’s Stores, I had the opportunity to share my photos with them.  As we were looking through the batch, the toilet from the shrine came up.  I explained I had no clue how to use it, and thankfully my new male friend took it upon himself (while fully clothed mind you), to show me the proper “squat” method—turns out my “point and shoot” was all wrong!

My most favorite toilet experience came from a most ironic location.  Our friend and tour guide took us to lunch at an American style cafe.  It was there I received the warmest of welcomes.  The toilet option for the restaurant was a single stall, one for males and one for females.  You know, the kind with the sink and toilet in one little room, and one person at a time (ideally).  Well when I went in to use the bathroom, I opened the door and stepped a foot over the threshold when all of a sudden the toilet seat sprung up, as if to say, “Welcome, Rivka, to Japan!” I thought it the coolest thing ever and found myself torn between needing to empty a certain organ-like sac, and wanting to run back to my table and have everyone come and check it out.  …my bladder won.  But my table mates were given an enthusiastic description of the event upon my return. 🙂

I must say, Tokyo is a beautiful city–day or night.  And I will take their public restroom over any in America–hands, feet, and squatter down!

LOST; and in search of my inner Lesley Gore

12 Feb

Have you ever been lost?  Truly in a spot of unrecognized territory?  I have.  Once, while vacationing on the island of Oahu, Hawaii.  I took my husband and two children on an adventure we will never forget.  I am an avid hiker, at least the Rivka I am most familiar with, I can say, is an avid hiker.  So to an unfamiliar trail I took my family, the call of true adventure my thrill.  We began our trek to the hidden waterfall with somewhat of a visible trail to guide our way.  And though at many times we were unsure if our chosen steps were leading us in the direction we hoped to go, we were offered a smidgen of hope from a random passerby to assure us our desired destination did, in fact, exist.  So while we had a successful venture to the pool of water I had longed to see, our hike back to safety took a wrong turn.  The rain began to fall…and fall, and fall.  And with it, the trails were completely washed away.  Banana palm trees lay fallen in the mud.   Our once familiar markers were sailing down the, now flowing, creek leaving us truly lost and in a place of unrecognizable territory.  Gone were the one or two previous people who kept us on course.  Gone was solid ground, only slippery mud and a husband/father with a guitar (because every hiker totes a musical instrument, right?), a wife/mother with a bit of fear lurking inside her, an optimistic boy, and a little girl who promptly spilled the rationed trail mix as if paying homage to the ritualistic offerings from the island’s past.  In that moment, flip-flop bedecked, we the Bent family were considering how it might feel to sleep in jungle-like surroundings with no food or water left for sustenance.  Yet plenty of rain and who knows what else!  We obviously made it out, thanks to the guitar and the little boy.  No questions please.

Well, here I am again.  Lost.

Where is Rivka?  An honest to goodness question circling within my soul.  Hello…anybody home?

Oh the logistics of my whereabouts are accounted for, but the “me” I am so familiar with seems to be missing.  I am not depressed.  I know what that looks and feels like.  I am not oppressed, I have been there too.  I am simply too pooped to come out to play.  Every day for the past three weeks I have awoke in the morning and begun my search.  Or I lie awake through the night unable to properly sleep, thus getting a jump start on my quest.  I am looking for my Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows.  I am hoping for the feelings of “everything that’s wonderful is how I feel when we’re together” to return into my view again.  You know, my Lesley Gore!

Yes I have been lost before.  However, I have never before been in a predicament of unfamiliarity as result of too much pressure.  I have been blue, I have been burdened, I have been overwhelmed, and I have been tired.  But being in a place of enduring the weight of too many difficult circumstances culminating simultaneously equating to a pressurized intensity unbearable to my body, mind, and soul, is new terrain.

Unable to speak.  Unable to write.  Unable to muster up the energy for thought.  Pressurized, and thus, vaporized.

I began to formulate an ‘SOS’ type text to send out to my girlfriends who I figured could handle a cry for help.  But even that weight felt too heavy to lift; end result, delete.  Prayer.  Ah, the Heavenward thoughts which unite the human spirit with the spirit of One.  Key word in previous sentence being, “thoughts”…mine are bankrupt.  Fill in the blanks.

As I sit here in my living room writing, post a three week hiatus, my husband enters into the room to inform me our plumbing has backed up yet again.  We have a root ball blocking our sewage flow.  Tomorrow the dig will begin, at least I will know where to find me…on another path leading toward shit.  I think I’ve written about that in the past.  Sorry, the color brown seems to suit me.  And a statement like that does echo the voice of depression, I apologize.  I am merely utilizing my literary license to invoke the melodramatic.  Truly, sewage problems I can handle…I know how to squat over a bag covered bucket!

Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows…the search continues.  “Lesley, are you out there?!”

P.s. It is a good sign that I was able to formulate a post.  Cheers to that!  Now may you please enjoy the song, and remember it’s that time of year again when the baby king hides out in a cake.  😉

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