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No Place To Pee On Mardi Gras Day PDF Print E-mail
Written by Cecelia Latoof   
Friday, 05 February 2010 08:27

 

Years ago, a fellow Mardi Gras participant wrote a song  entitled No Place to Pee On Mardi Gras Day.  I can't remember his name, but he suffered the same fate as the rest of us.  No place to pee.

There are over 100,000 people who show up for this street party. But, barring having a catheter in place, it can be, and is, pretty tough.  Oh, sure, there are a few port-o-lets.  You smell and taste them long before you ever see them.  Yuk and gross.  I pass on them and get creative when it comes to emptying my bladder.  But, I'm not the only one who seeks out other accommodations.

My sis  and I had to pee--badly.  The port-o-lets simply were NOT an option.  So, we started searching the neighborhood for anything  which might serve our purpose--legal or not.

 

We, fortuitously, came to a large, high-set home right off of St. Charles Avenue.  Perfect, we thought.  We sneaked under the house as quietly as we could, ripped off our jeans, and let nature take its thankful course.  I finished before she did; and she was still going strong, with no signs of stopping.

It was about this time that the owner of the house came out, looked under the home, and saw her in mid-stream.  He flipped. Her bladder had burst asunder and there was no stopping her.  He began screaming at her to STOP.  She calmly explained to him that she would stop--when she finished.  She was peeing and talking to the man at the same time.  I guess he liked what he saw because he quit screaming and started smiling.  He also continued to watch her until she finished, had to stand up to pull up her jeans, and was finally able to cover herself.  When we crawled out from under the house, the home owner was all smiles.  I guess he'd seen more than just boobs that day.  He saw butt and more.

We were quite creative that day.  We peed under various houses, many bushes, behind (or in front of, depending on your view) many garbage cans .  We even peed out in the open behind an abandoned house.  Right there, for all of the world, and God, to see.  People asked us if we had found a spot and we graciously shared our previously private 'out-house'.  You know, they had to pee as badly as we. 

It wound up that when we returned to our private spot, we were now sharing it with at least 20 other desperate souls--men and women.  Well, one must do what one must do.  We were all either standing or squatting--and apologizing to one and all for not being able to give one another privacy.  Those Hurricanes, a New Orleans alcoholic drink, runs right through you, them, and me.

With faces red, each finished, very relieved, and we went our own ways. Only, unfortunately, to bump back into one another at the same place doing the same thing.  With familiarity, we lost our red faces, made good friends, and talked and peed in unison with our male and female counterparts.  We were now all soul mates.

Incredible what can actually bring people together, eh?


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MOTIVATED BY CEE-SECTION!
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Mean Dean - 02-15-2010 07:59

:evil: Cecelia.....I give you all of the credit for encouraging me> :whistle:
dean!
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cecelia - 02-12-2010 10:33

you are sooo baaaad, you're good!!!!!!
FLEEMALES VERSUS PEEMALES
Mean Dean - 02-05-2010 04:21

:woohoo: LOLOL Once I read the title, I knew the writer! You see, Cee (more than me) is THE authoritee for thee, concerning a pee or wee. Gee...hee hee, to pee or not to pee, isn't even the question - especially for the feemale, rather than the peemale. To be a peemale, just open your car/pickup door, & turn yee butt to the world. Feemales may pay a fee when they flee to do their sea of pee puree - you see. A peemale may follow yee with a wee camera cell phone. Of course, a video of pee & knees of yee on U-Tube doesn't really mean squat. Yee could be picking de-flower. C'est la vie "Wee Wee!" Poor pee planning perhaps :?: And leave "Miss Gusher" with no flusher - at home. :whistle:
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Last Updated on Sunday, 23 May 2010 18:43