This One’s Taken.

Here’s what I overheard today, shortly after I finished off my Iced, Venti, 3-shot, 2-pump sugar-free vanilla latte with extra ice:

My boyfriend did something really special to my girly bits last night and you have to try it!
But I want to be a MILF to my teenage son’s mates!
It’s a shame I married that assholio instead of my high school sweetheart.
That girl so totally was a whore for giving your brother crabs!

Ahem. Did you people realise you’re in the ladies room? The ladies room in a major metropolitan shopping mall, a busy shopping mall with a line of people, like me, waiting to use the facilities?

See that photo over there? Look closely:

  • A toilet stall is not a cloaking device; we can see your feet under the door;
  • A toilet stall does not include sound insulation; every word you said about ‘discharge’ came though the door loud and clear (and perhaps it’s best to see your Dr about that little issue);
  • If you are standing in line to use the facilities whilst talking on your phone; like stalls, cell phones do not come equipped with a cloaking device or cone of silence.

You know, I have to thank you for having no boundaries when it comes to discussing intimate details of your lives. You made me laugh when I was getting grumpy that the line was so long when I really, really had to pee. So, to show my gratitude, you are all going to feature in a scene in the novel I am currently writing.

Yes, that’s right. You kind women of the See’side Shopping Centre ladies room are my urgent comic relief.

2 thoughts on “This One’s Taken.

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