Now that I write this blog, some of my friends ask me if and when I will write about them. I try to not write about my friends – I actually don’t need to because the ridiculous and ludicrous usually finds me, so I don’t need to draw inspiration from my friends. Until now.
Sometimes when you hear a story, it instantly makes you feel better about your own life – the feeling others feel when reading my
biographical totally fictitious tales of humiliation and general shame. That feeling of relief and comfort and general ‘thank GOD that didn’t happen to me’ is a feeling that is rarely matched by any other. Unfortunately, the type of person that I am and the sort of…situations that I ‘occasionally’ find myself in, determine that I never get the chance to feel this delicious ‘thank GOD I’m not an idiot like you moment’ and that, in itself is sad. You can imagine my joy when my friend told me her story – a story filled with all the ingredients that I am familiar with – an event occurs, something happens, then you must make it better. Her story culminates in her driving away from the scene of her crime at 68 miles an hour. By the way, this story really is about my friend and not one of those, ‘my friend, she has this rash’ situation. Okay?
There are two pieces of information that you need to know – at the time of the incident, she was living with her boyfriend and she suffered (and still does) from some…digestive problems. I am trying to be as pleasant as possible – you can imagine the digestive issues for yourself. One afternoon, she returned home from work to the sound of her boyfriend yelling and shouting her name from the bathroom. She ran upstairs, fearing the worst. The worst was confirmed. She found her boyfriend crouched down in the bathroom with the u-bend from the toilet in one hand and a rubber glove and a toothbrush in the other. “Is that MY toothbrush?” She asked, suspicious of its recent journey. He nodded, confirming her suspicions. “This also belongs to you, ” he said, as he pointed to the bathroom floor. What she saw on the floor can only be described as a scene from hell. There were pools of dark liquid dotted around the floor as well (look away if you are eating) as some remainders of poo. Sorry to use the word poo, but it’s a funny word and you are never too old and mature that the word poo and stories about poo lose their comic value.
Anyway, back to the scene. Her boyfriend was on the floor, screaming for towels, cloths – anything that would help to control the situation. Fast forward 10 minutes (we don’t need to linger on this) and the offending matter was cleared up and the soiled towels were now in a bin bag, contained. Their conversation led to what they would now do with the offending bin bag – they couldn’t leave it for the bin men as they wouldn’t arrive until the end of the week – so they had no choice but to drive to the rubbish tip with the stinking bag. Not wanting to waste this opportunity of a trip to the tip, they decided (this decision would later turn out to be a mistake) to see what else they had lying around the house that they could get rid of. According to my friend, they had some household items that they didn’t need anymore. I asked for specifics.
“You know…cardboard, plastic,” she answered, “a couple of chains, a sex swing and a whip…stuff that got leftover.” The word ‘leftover’ being linked to sex games made me feel uncomfortable. I associate ‘leftovers’ with my Granny’s Sunday Roast, but I had a sinking feeling that these leftovers that she was referring to might have been from a different type of roast altogether.
So, off they go, my friend and her boyfriend to the tip with the following items:
1. a bin bag filled with (shitty) towels
2. a bin bag stuffed with sex toys ranging from the mild to the kind that could land you on the sex offender’s register
3. some token gesture cardboard and plastic
You know how the tip is organised – you put your plastic in one area, your metal in another and so on and so on. There is also an area for ‘general waste’ which can be for the miscallaneous items. My friend and her boyfriend decided that this would be the best resting place for their towels and sex toys to go. Nothing could have been more ‘general’ than the contents of those bin bags. Of course, the day you choose to dispose of your shitty towels and whips, is the day that the tip are having some kind of a inspection- a third party was at the tip, monitoring how it was run and ensuring that people were putting the correct items in the correct place. It was too late for my friend and her boyfriend to reverse and get out of there once they had realised this – they were in a queue of cars with no place to go. “Just play it cool, play it cool and you will be fine,” her boyfriend reassured her as she wound down her window to speak to the recycling police. “Just general waste!” She squealed, not cool at all. ”Well, we need to open it up and see what kind of waste is in there,” said the uniformed man. ”I told you, just general waste, please. General waste!” She was high-pitched in tone and at this point she was imagining the horror of the situation that was unfolding. What would happen if Officer Greenpeace opened up the bags to reveal its contents? Most probably they would link the two bags together and conclude that these two pervs had just indulged in some kind of deviant night that started with a sex swing and ended in really, really dirty towels.
My friend saw a chance. She decided the best course of action would be to tell the tip man that they would pull over to the side – which they did. She forced her boyfriend to get out of the car and remove the two bags for inspection. The moment that her boyfriend put the bags on the ground, he jumped straight back into the (now moving) car as she drove off at high speed, leaving the tip staff confused. If they were confused now she thought, they should wait until they open the bags.
I promised my friend that I would not name and shame her, she has suffered enough. She hasn’t got that boyfriend anymore and she certainly hasn’t been to that tip since. However, her feelings towards sex swings remains positive.