whiney the pooh

"Im a pretty big deal back home, you know."

This morning, while musing over this past weekend, I smiled when my mind drifted to the joy derived out of one friend’s humiliation. Is this wrong? Yes. Would you have enjoyed 2 days of knee slappin’ chuckles had you witnessed the calamity? Are you a red-blooded human being - then yes. I’ve been enlightened to a new form of optimism – finding good fortune out of one’s rotten luck. It is with great delight I share with you The Epic of Whiney the Pooh.

Friday I made good of my promise to visit Jillian in Dallas. The trip would be a short one, arriving late Friday and leaving Sunday in the a.m., but a road trip out of the city I call home was exactly what the doctor ordered. I brought along my comrade Ohio, the best rollerskater in 5 counties south of the Mason Dixon, Matthew, and a 12 week pup that goes by the name of Little Jerry Seinfeld. The trip was made with haste via vehicular transportation in under 5 hours by the likes of Nascar's very own, Robby Gordon. Had we not been distracted by Kanye West fueling his vehicle in Hope or squandered 24 minutes of driving time loitering outside of Mr. J’s Food Mart in Greenville, we could have made the trip in under 4. We spent Friday in McKinney, Texas at a local tavern that provided a smoke free environment, karaoke, and free t-shirts accompanied by a complimentary shot the bar was promoting. The shot, Wide Eye, tasted not unlike a concoction of warm semen and cough syrup. In the profound words of Public Enemy, don't believe the hype. Ohio, however, went for round two.

Saturday morning we had breakfast at one of my favorite Dallas eateries, Café Brazil. It is a Saturday morning tradition to eat at the coffee house any time I am in the city. I was pleased to share my dining experience, and homemade chorizo, with my travel companions. The café is located in hip Lower Greenville and populated by young, sophisticated families and smug joggers spruced up in snazzy running gear and rosy cheeks fresh off a run. It’s the kind of place you go, not only for unique and palatable grub, but to see and be seen. With seven different choices daily, the joint entices civilians with their “bottomless coffee” made available at the coffee bar centrally located in the café at a two dollar and fifty nine cent steal. Should you be in a one-cup mood please be aware the price stands at $2.59. Go for that second cup.

After salivating over the eye-popping menu, we are greeted by a young girl sporting a short black bob unkempt in her Café Brazil tee eager to take our drink order. This young gal seemed removed from any chit chat, but with Ohio in tow I expect and anticipate a spectacle. Ohio transforms the average request into a sport he has created and mastered. He does this in a way that borders flirtatious mixed with a dash of tenacity, yet never fails to entertain and charm. Ohio protests to the young girl that he is well known and a pretty big deal back home. Matthew takes bait and boosts the ever-growing ego adding fuel to Ohio’s fire “he recently set the National hot dog eating record – you might have caught the competition on ESPN – and is a contender for the Hotdog World Cup next May.” Our server, fully committed to the colloquy, acknowledges “I have heard of these hot dog eating contests you speak of and will definitely look for you on ESPN.” I notice for the first time Ohio’s inclination to use the word “sweetheart” in every sentence and I am surprisingly impressed with his fearless drollery. My party of four settles for mexican omelets, chorizo empanadas and banana pancakes. Ohio had been craving the nana cakes for a couple of days . As we later would discover, this would be Ohio's only good fortune of the day.

While anxiously waiting the delivery of our feast, we collectively strut across the room over to the enticing aroma brewing from the coffee bar. It is often a waiting game as the finest of dallas create their very own coffee creations. I chose a Brazilian blend while my dining companions elected the candy-in-a-cup flava “snickerdoodle”. During the process of snatching a clean mug and awaiting your turn at the bar one is often excused and nudged by other restaurant patrons also waiting for their moment at the java bar. A lot of socializing occurs here and for those of you not familiar, the cavalier breed of Dallas excel at being loud, flashy and pompous. It's best to look away from this species.

Satisfied and jolted, we walk back to our respective spots at the table. Shortly after our arrival two men deliver the steaming goods to the table and we are met with silence for the next ten minutes. On occassion, Ohio summons our waitress for condiments such as hot sauce and jam - in his charismatic way, naturally. Ohio puts on a show in closing for the now good-spirited waitress. We collect our tabs, pay, and waddle to the front of the restaurant before making our way out of the establishment feeling full and fat.

Jillian suggests what I was already thinking, "why not let Ohio sit up front with Matthew that way you can sit next to me in the back." I frown upon the idea of giving up my seat warmer, but willingly forfeit it to sit with Jillian. During our walk to the car we discuss plans for shopping and I suddently notice a little skip in my step.

I open the right side passenger door when, all of a sudden, despair kills my skip. What do we have here? After a dramatic gasp I look up at the sky as if searching for an answer from the gods. The curious group forms a huddle at my side where they also sigh in disdain. "What is this" they scream with a scowl. When clarity set in I let out a woeful "Oh no" and repulsively walk away from the vehicle. You see my friends, what my eyes were telling me is that the leather seat I was about to make my temporary resting place was covered in shit that had hardened and squashed to the seat, perhaps there for hours even days. Matthew rescues a red hooded sweatshirt victimized by the poop but when he lifts the sweater a whopping clump of poop stuck to the hoodie tie like soap on a rope. "Who does this sweatshirt belong to" we cry. Oh - Ohio. At that moment another important query presents itself "yeah but who was sitting here...oh no...Ohio you sat in this spot on the way to breakfast. Turn around."

The view wasn't pretty. Really, it was nothing less than grotesque. The back side of Ohio's blue jeans, beginning at the glueteus maximus leading to the upper hamstring, was covered in shit.

Fred, Delma, and Daphne begin to examine the mystery when it becomes clear what happened. Little Jerry was left in the car while we polluted our bodies with shots mixed one part warm semen and two parts cough syrup the night prior. We were ready to leave the bar and allow little Jerry to empty his bowels when trouble walked through the door



While the father/son duo distracted us with their evil ways and alarmingly identical apparel, Little Jerry did a deuce in Matthew's backseat. Hours later we made an unnoticeable escape. We caravan to Dallas from McKinney - two in Matthew's car and two in Jillians' - leaving the tainted backseat vacant. In case you haven't caught on, this is precisely why the poop discovery wasn't made until the following day after Ohio pranced around the restaurant, with bounteous confidence, showing the world, or at least Dallas, his shitty drawers.

Once the mystery is solved, we place Ohio on the soiled sweatshirt and a newspaper on the way to a 7-11. Ohio walks like a dog who had just been punished to the front door of the store and quickly returns to the car, walking backwards so that the 7-11 store clerk would not notice that a 26 year old man pooped his pants, and informs us that the facilities are "out of order". We try not to give Ohio a hard time for not recognizing the fact he could make use of a bathroom sans a functioning toilet because his job necessitated running water and a paper towel, but we didn't want to kick him while he was down.

Another laugh and 2 minutes later we pull into a Wild Oats parking lot. Ohio gets out of the car and timidly walks to the front entrance of the store like a kid on the first day of kindergarden. Reluctantly, he manuevers inside not to be seen for a good ten minutes. Jillian and I spend this time crying in laughter. Matthew makes a good effort to clean his backseat with the Wide Eye tshirt he scored from the bar Friday night and liquid soap from the Wild Oats public restroom where, incidentally, Ohio was furiously scrubbing his bluejeans.

When Ohio finally rejoins the group we listen like kids during storyhour as he gives us the dirty details. Ohio walked in to Wild Oats and was accompanied to the restroom by a store clerk who insisted on walking behind Ohio despite Ohio's persistance that the clerk "go first". Once in a stall, Ohio removes his filthy pants and proceeds to scrub them when his stomach begins to churn like cream to butter. Ohio scrubs poop off his poopy pants while he poops.

This tale provided us with endless entertainment and laughter throughout the weekend getaway, even during times of exhaustion, hunger and pain. During one of his many pity parties, Ohio sulks "woe is me" which provided me with inspiration to title this blog. It is my belief that Ohio will check the seat of every vehicle seat for days perhaps years to come. Jillian, Matthew and I will always look at Ohio and recall with a happy heart the day he shit his pants in Dallas.

Grins & giggles, Ohio. ~ Josie