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Amy Wallen Will Give You Crickets
ReaderRabbit, I love to go to the readings, even if I have nothing to read. Sure, not every piece tickles my fancy, but they always have wine and cheese, and frequently chocolate -- I'll endure almost anything if chocolate is involved. And I can give any writer who's brave enough to read in front of dozens of strangers the courtesy of 3 minutes of my attention. I'm frequently rewarded with some of the best prose I come across these days, read by some of San Diego's most amusing/engrossing readers. I'd say that's a great way to spend a Friday night. You might try attending a DimeStories showcase -- I think they're once a quarter now. These stories are hand selected, the best of the best. If I remember correctly, you have to sneak in your own chocolate. But still. B.— December 10, 2009 3:37 p.m.
Amy Wallen Will Give You Crickets
My mother is completely mortified about this story. She won't even let me say the word "f*rt." Not kidding. I'm 41.— December 3, 2009 10:20 a.m.
Amy Wallen Will Give You Crickets
...Continued... With one last humiliating rumble, toot and splash, I am thankfully done. I stand quickly and dodge my body from side to side to set off the automatic flush. Two-thirds of the evidence whooshes – more humiliation with the 2-flusher. I think I hear Kate chortle. I exit the stall, wash my hands and try to hide my scarlet face. She smiles and smirks simultaneously. I couldn’t hate this woman more. We walk together in silence, and I pause at the door to let her go first. As she passes, I see her well-ironed white skirt. She has a spot in a horrible place, a most embarrassing revelation that she is female. According to the women’s code, I’m supposed to whisper this critical fact to Kate. I open my mouth to let her know, then stop. She breaks the code; I break the code. Now we’re even. I effortlessly mimic her smirk and start our meeting.— December 2, 2009 3:44 p.m.
Amy Wallen Will Give You Crickets
Wow, Josh. With compliments like that, I'll even reenact it for you. (Not really.) The Best Laid Plans of a Professional Meeting Planner The toughest part of putting on a convention for 5,000 is not the 15-hour days that start before 5 a.m. or the angry exhibitors, lost packages or empty coffee urns during the morning rush. No… the toughest problem I encounter during a 5-day conference is finding a private place for a bowel movement. At the last event, I scout out the perfect remote bathroom. As soon as the keynote speaker starts, I slip away. Soon I am dedicated to my important task. And then the door opens. “Beth, are you in here?” KATE! Kate is my arch enemy. She revels in causing me pain at work. And she has found me at a most vulnerable moment. “Hey, Kate. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Kate enters a stall. “Can we meet about my speaker luncheon?” she asks as she unzips. I’m at critical juncture. I shift on the seat, hoping for a sneaky hiss instead of a humiliating blurt. No luck. “Um, sure. Half an hour? In the staff office?” She answers, “I have time now. I’ll walk back with you.” What? She is waiting for me here in the bathroom? Part of the women’s code is that we quietly excuse ourselves when one needs privacy, just like we “spare a square” under the stall when we run out of paper. I struggle to find some inner fortitude that will stop this bowel movement. I clench. I grimace. I pucker. Kate, of course, is taking a polite, professional pee, releasing an efficient, melodic stream and tearing off an eco-friendly, modest toilet paper ration. I’m making noises and emitting smells that would keep the audience in a Will Farrell movie in stitches. My bowels are unstoppable, the culmination of unrelenting stress, late nights and 3 bags of Flaming Hot Cheetos. There is plopping and splashback. And oh yes, there is odor. I can’t stop it, so I try to disguise it. I shuffle. I cough. I rattle the toilet paper roll. “Why don’t you head over to the staff office and grab the menu from my desk?” I plead. Kate is finished, washing her hands. “I’ll wait for you – no problem.” Kate’s enjoying the fact that she’s breaking the code. I picture her leaning against the vanity, practicing the perfect knowing smile. Bitch. ...Continued....— December 2, 2009 3:43 p.m.
Amy Wallen Will Give You Crickets
Greetings from the infamous "woman who wrote the bathroom story," otherwise known as Beth Ziesenis. Thanks for the compliment, Josh. :) Glad I ran into you at the event, and hope to see you at others.— December 2, 2009 2:13 p.m.