At the club on Saturday night, the women’s restroom line got to at least 20 girls long for four stalls. Yes, only four stalls. The wait took forever. Another gal in line wanted to know how long it really takes to go. While I agree, she went on and on and on. I decided I was in toilet discussion hell. It’s bad enough to wait in line for 10 minutes, but worse to continue to talk about it for 20 minutes or so after.

The whole thing can be summed up in less than a minute and be quite funny. So let me ask…How long does it take to use the bathroom, ladies? I realize that club clothes aren’t always easily removed, and the drunken stupor doesn’t help matters. But how hard is it to lift that skirt or unzip those pants? Personally, I decide on a club outfit based on how easy it is to go to the bathroom. Honestly, you don’t have to make it difficult. With never-ending line, a half inch of water on the floor (I hope that was water) and inebriation, there’s no reason to create more problems for yourself in going to the bathroom! Make it simple. Get in. Get out.

However, through this endless loop of women’s potty lines conversation, I learned one thing. I can’t stand it! I’ve been known to beat a dead horse—and I can’t take it when someone else does. So it’s time for me to quit. Certainly not about the annoying bathroom lines or any other crap.

I even had some dumb drunk girl throw water my direction while yelling at her equally dumb drunk friend. It soaked my shoe and went down my dress. While terribly annoying—the shoes tend to get black dye all over my feet when wet—hardly worth getting upset about. Even Mr. Brilliant, who loves to point out when I am beating that dead horse, felt the need to commiserate rather loudly about my getting wet. Frankly, I think he needs to take some of his own advice, particularly in this case. But I have kept my mouth shut. Perhaps on occasion I do think too much, but at least I don’t overreact to minor situations.

Technorati: bar restrooms