Recently, with no decent snowmobiling to be found and zombies being killed via PS3 on the TV, my husband and I succumbed to boredom and went to Walmart. Yay, right? Not the most exciting date we’ve ever been on, but it was better than…
Him: I’m bored.
Me: Me, too.
Him: What do you want to do?
Me: I don’t know. What do you want to do?
Him: It’s up to you.
Yeah, after several hours of that, a trip to Walmart was looking like Disney World, especially since it’s officially a Supercenter now. Of course my husband had to check the ammo cases because, apparently, empty shelves do something for him, and he ended up in a conversation with some other guy who’s also into empty shelves behind locked glass doors.
After about ten seconds of that, I got bored and wandered away. The camping aisle was nearby, so lots of goodies to look at. Our camping isn’t really camping (we get annoyed when the satellite dish doesn’t get a signal), but I love camping stuff, anyway. Then I saw a little pink plastic container that said GoGirl. I thought it was some kind of waterproof tube with a little roll of toilet paper inside.
Now, at the risk of TMI, I can’t pee in the woods. Even if I got past the modesty issues and the shy bladder issues, I do not have the coordination to hang my butt over a log without bad things happening. Picture me hanging upside down, pants around my ankles and caught on a branch while I pee on myself, and having to call my husband to help me.
Actually, you know what? Don’t.
Anyway, if we’re shooting for over 50 miles or so, it’s all about finding the perfect level of dehydration—don’t have to pee, but also don’t pass out and fall off a fast-moving four-wheeler. But I’ve had to help the Wee Baby Sis pee in the woods and, wow, was that a circus. (I have boys, who are self-sufficient in such things.) And occasionally we’re accompanied by a woman who’s willing to pee in the woods, but doesn’t have any tissues. So I thought, hey, I could throw this in my cargo box and forget about it unless somebody needs it. (Little packages of tissues don’t stand up well.) So I picked it up.
It is not a cute little roll of toilet paper. It is a “Female Urination Device”.
I thought this was the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen in my entire life. (Keeping in mind, of course, that going to Walmart with my husband was the most exciting thing to happen to me in at least a week.)
I spent a few minutes examining this technological wonder (girls can pee standing up!) before my husband came looking for me. He knows if I’m left too long in the camping aisle, I’ll convince myself we need propane camp stoves and lanterns and machetes and water purification tables and MREs and more flashlights, just in case. (This is also why I was forbidden from watching Doomsday Preppers.)
I showed him my treasure.
“When you were pregnant, how many times did you manage to pee in the cup without getting your hand wet?”
I want to get him a vanity plate that says FUNKLLR. I put it back and allowed myself to be dragged from the camping aisle (and he’s going to be sorry when the apocalypse comes and we only have 28 flashlights), but I think somebody needs to try this and report back. Their website: Go-Girl.com.