Melody Greer, Proud Fat Chick...
I once applied for my Dream Job. The Office was a little house that had been turned into the workplace: adorable, with brick walls and period cornices and mouldings. My resume was perfect for the job, and my interview went very well -- afterward they had me wait in the lobby to have a quick meeting with the Boss...!
As I sat in the lobby I was conscious not to take any snacks out of my purse: I wanted to show that I had self-control, that I didn't HAVE to have that King-Size Milky Way bar right now...
After a few minutes I excused myself to use the restroom; my stomach was understandably nervous, and I felt the volcano building in my bowels. When I walked into the restroom I immediately saw the problem: they had converted a small home bathroom to accommodate a stall and a urinal, and the stall was way too narrow for me to fit into...
Meanwhile, the Volcano rumbled and I had to do SOMETHING. The sink was too high for me to use, and I couldn't see using the urinal accurately, so I took the trash basket out from under the sink and emptied my angry bowels into it, then wiped up the back-spatter with paper towels...
I knew that my mess would soon be discovered -- there wasn't enough air freshener in the can to hide THAT -- so I left the charming little office, and my Dream Job, never to return, all because of a narrow toilet stall: it's funny how things you don't think twice about can utterly change the course of your life. I guess it's like being in a wheelchair, except in my case the wheelchair is my oversized ass..
Still, I have accepted that workplace wasn't for me: after all, my Dream Moment of My Dream Job would be having sex with my frisky Boss in the bathroom stall: Bang Me, Mr. Boss Man! Bang the Fat Chick...!
I am Laslo.
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