I think my bladder is psychic! Or at the very least totally masochistic. If I am twenty minutes from home and I have to go pee, I can hold it with no problem....right up until the driveway. As I approach the house the urge gets stronger....by the front door I'm starting to get worried... and as I walk in the house take my jacket off and start down the hall I'm starting to panic... things turn urgent... and then... then I get to washroom!... but not in the washroom! Oh no! I'm poised just outside the door...standing there... doing the pee pee dance! ....as I stare longingly at the toilet. Finally I make the final dash but wait! There is one last step. The pants! The pants must come down! Another pee pee dance ensues. And then... well then, relief alas. Why? Why couldnt that sneaky little voice trick my bladder into thinking that we were still miles away from a washroom? Why must it always let the secret fly just a few feet short of home? I wanna know, dammit! Why?! 
Btw, this is nothing new. I remember when I used to walk home from school it was the same story, every day. I'd get to within five houses of home and BAM! It'd hit. I gotta go! Now! What is really embarrassing is that I lived in a cul-de-sac and so it's not like I was able to just stop in front of my neighbors house and do a little pee pee dance for a minute. Oh no! I'd have to come up with some inconspicuous task to use as an excuse to stop... you know, check my back back, tie my shoe (or untie and re-tie I should say) or stop and admire my neighbor's garden. The sweet lady next door must of thought I was obsessed with her pansies! But eventually I'd make it through the front door and then it was game on! My bladder and I'd have a throw-down, show-down. The nearest bathroom? Upstairs... seven small steps... seven agonizing steps to freedom.
Btw, this is nothing new. I remember when I used to walk home from school it was the same story, every day. I'd get to within five houses of home and BAM! It'd hit. I gotta go! Now! What is really embarrassing is that I lived in a cul-de-sac and so it's not like I was able to just stop in front of my neighbors house and do a little pee pee dance for a minute. Oh no! I'd have to come up with some inconspicuous task to use as an excuse to stop... you know, check my back back, tie my shoe (or untie and re-tie I should say) or stop and admire my neighbor's garden. The sweet lady next door must of thought I was obsessed with her pansies! But eventually I'd make it through the front door and then it was game on! My bladder and I'd have a throw-down, show-down. The nearest bathroom? Upstairs... seven small steps... seven agonizing steps to freedom.
Why not just go before leaving school you ask? Because I didnt have to go then. Oh no! And these days my bladder doesn't give up that pertinent little bit of news before I leave the grocery store or restaurant either. No! No! It is sadistic freak of nature that knows just which bathroom is mine! So it lays in wait, holding tight until it senses the moment to strike! Just a few feet short of the blessed, blasted toilet, it springs to life! But I shall play slave to no man... or organ! (that doesnt sound right, does it?)... I am a strong, confident, woman in firm control of her bladder! And so I fight! I fight! And I'll win, dammit!
I'm going to start a club, "Women Against Psychic Bladders Unite!" WAPBU for short.
Are you in!?!
Oh! And I discovered something else! All of these pin up girls we thought were trying to be sexy?! Well they're not! Oh no, they're doing the pee pee dance!!! Check it out!
