Innuendo Does Normal Things and Then Regrets Ever Having Left Her Room

This a post filled with awful stories about gross things that have happened to me. You have been warned. This wasn't my idea, I am deflecting responsibility. I decided on writing this post by popular demand. Plus, I have done you all a favor by putting all of this in one post. Now you can forever avoid it, if you like, and I would recommend it that you do.

This isn't just hard on the reader, believe me these memories are awful to dredge up. I actually had to drink a glass of wine (approximately) just to write this. Everyone please buckle your seat belts and pull out your paper bags because this could be nauseating.

There is no way to start out easy... so let's start with:

Innuendo Goes to a Dinner Party

It's a Friday or Saturday night (I don't remember I tried to block this memory out, you can thank KimKim for the reminder) and I was trying desperately to get the group's favorite wine for the festivities (BOOJOLAYYYY! ). I ran to the nearby grocery store and couldn't find it anywhere and I ended up missing the bus. "Damn" I said to myself "I'm going to be late." As if that was the worst of my worries, ahaha!

Anyway, I walked to the nearest bus stop to wait for the next bus which would come in about 20 minutes. "That isn't too bad," I said to myself "I won't be awfully late and I'm just bringing the wine." When I got to the bus stop I made a move to sit on the bench when, suddenly, I see it. The light from the nearby lamppost glistens off of a large pool of spit. The largest pool of saliva that I had ever seen.

Let me interject for a moment to explain just how momentously awful this was for me.  I hate saliva. I hate it with ever fiber of my being. It disgusts me beyond sanity. Spittle, is my worst enemy. When people spit I get motion sickness. I have an immediate gag/regurgitate reaction whenever I see it or think about it. Saliva is so vile to me I don't even speak about it. Except for now, to tell you this.

So I looked at the largest pool of saliva that I had ever seen and I immediately wanted to gag. I don't think anyone can truly understand the size of what I saw that night, which was the most disturbing part because it was more of a puddle than anything else... it had depth. DEPTH.

Unfortunately, there was no escape from it because it was just sitting there, glistening. I thought glistening was supposed to be beautiful...

I moved to the very edge of the bus stop to wait as minutes upon minutes pass by.  I was getting sicker by the moment when a young man approached the bus stop and sat at the bench. I didn't look to see if he stepped in the spit I just moved towards the trash can because I knew what was coming.

Although for awhile I was very afraid, it seemed that just facing the other direction was helping tremendously and I began to feel better.

When a car pulled up to the bus stop.

A man got out from the driver's seat and quickly strode to the side of the car next to the sidewalk where he opened the door to the backseat. There was a young child inside, maybe three or four, and they looked very unwell. Very very unwell. The man stood outside of the car simultaneously facing and blocking the child for a minute or so. Although I was still standing next to the trashcan I had become so distracted that I was almost recovered, when the man turned in my direction with a plastic bag and briskly walked toward me.  I thought maybe he would ask for directions, but instead he brushed past me with an open plastic bag filled with vomit while he clutched vomit-covered paper towels in his hand.

I will interject again to explain that vomit is the second thing that I just cannot handle. When I see someone regurgitate, I want to regurgitate. I can't help it. It doesn't amuse me, or anger me, I won't even judge someone, I will just want to vomit as well. Vomit is the very closely related cousin of saliva.

So when this man moved past me with baby puke, which I must say is exponentially worse than adult puke, I got a suffocating dose of throw-up particles in my nose and the overwhelming sight of the sloshing bag and the green-tinged paper towels pushed me way too far. The man just dumped these filthy baby stained items in the public trash can and didn't tie up the bag. Then he drove away with his obscene smelling child and left me with an atrocious situation. The bag was way too full for that kind of behavior. The vomit just sat there, in the plastic bag, in the trash can, all pool-like. But at least it didn't glisten.

I was surrounded. On one side was the fairy-tale sized spit puddle and on the other side an overly digested and malodorous baby puke. I was stuck in my nightmare. MY NIGHTMARE. My stomach was convulsing and I must have blacked out because the next thing I remember is the bus pulling up and then making the effort to dramatically hobble toward the bus. Finally, I've reached a safe place. I walk up to the open doors and reached the steps when \ suddenly I was hit by a wall of odor so strong I almost fell back out of the bus. The bus driver must have thought I was seriously drunk. I finally stumbled onto the bus still in shock when I realized what had just happened: I had walked through the exact place where that child had vomited outside of the car.

I sat on the bus for the next 45 minutes sitting with my face pressed against the window and breathing heavily. Needless to say, no one sat next to me.


Innuendo Does Laundry

This one is short and tragic. One day, in Denmark, I decided to do my laundry. Which seems normal, but evidently is enough provocation for mischief and horror. Anyway, the laundry was located in the basement, which I was very happy for because I never had to leave the building. How fortunate.

I had a load of some of my favorite shirts that I wanted to wash and I absentmindedly threw it into the washer and put on the correct settings. I ran upstairs and watched a 30 minute episode of Community (obvi). I ran back down to get my laundry before someone took it ( LIKE THEY TOOK MY COAT, #^%$*&%) and began to unload the laundry into my bag. They were all hang dry/lay flat to dry which was irritating, but in this case turned out for the best because when I looked at my clothes as I was hanging them I saw that the white shirt had dark stuff all over it. And so did the blue shirt and even the black shirt looked fuzzier than normal.

Strange. Very strange.

So I got out my handy lint roller and set to work on my favorite shirts. However, as I was on the floor rolling the crap out of these shirts, I got a closer look and the "stuff" which was definitely hairs. Are they cat hairs? Dog hairs? No one is supposed to have a pet... Plus they are kind of curly to be animal hair, and not really tightly enough curled to resemble hair that would come from someone's head. I kept inspecting. I don't know why, some sick curiosity drove me. The hair seemed very brittle.There were so many and they were a strange length. Oh God. OH GOD. NO, no, no, no, NOOOOO.

There is no way.

It was definitely pubic hair. I don't know how and I don't know why. But there were very few reasons that I would find myself with my laundry looking like this in this Kollegium other than it being pubic hair. I began to lint roll frantically and with all of my energy, but to no avail. It was just too stuck into the fibers. There was no way.  I washed my hands about a thousand times and I threw away all of those shirts.

I just... I can't talk about this anymore.

Innuendo Takes a Walk Downtown with Friends

I am going to preface this entire story with the fact that Copenhagen does not have free public restrooms.
Yeah, it this story is like that.

So I was with my friends in downtown Copenhagen and we had just visited a bakery for some tasty pastries. As we walked down a very well-trafficked street where our school is located it is actually pretty sunny and bright and clear for a winter afternoon. We are in good spirits. As we are about to cross an intersection to get to our school we notice that there is a man with his back to us and his front to a building across the street. At first we wondered what he was doing and then he twisted a little and we realized he was peeing very openly (and taking his sweet time) on the building which we often pass to get to classes.  I am definitely disturbed, but it is nothing I haven't seen before. Although usually it isn't in broad daylight, in the afternoon, while people are walking past, next to one of the busiest streets in the area.

Whatever, it is still a lovely day and we just had pastr-

"Don't look!" I hear someone say. I'm confused because we had already passed the peeing dude and what else horrible could be happening. So I turn to look.

Which was a life-changing mistake because when I did look I saw a woman with her pants pulled down defecating on the sidewalk.

def·e·cate

  [def-i-keyt] verb (used without object)

1.

to void excrement from the bowels through the anus; have a bowel movement.

She was defecating on the sidewalk.

I'm sorry I need another drink.



Ok so she is defecating right in front of us on the sidewalk. Just pooping. Right there. Not only was that offensive, but she was also talking to herself and she had located herself where just about anyone could see her.

There was no missing her unless you actually listen to someone who says "don't look" which really isn't what most people do. Anyway, what really got me about this whole situation, what really shocked and awed me, other than the crapping, was the fact that she actually had napkins with her specifically in preparation for this moment when she decided to poop in the sidewalk. She wiped herself. In public, she wiped herself.

I was beyond reason. Everyone was like "Why did you look?" And I was all like "gag gag splurt gag" because I almost lost all the pastry that I had just eaten. I almost did if it wasn't for the calming words of my friends. I was pretty much out of commission for the rest of the day especially when it came to food. In fact I'm not feeling so well right now...

~~~~~~~~~~~

How did I even write this post? These are not all of the gross stories that I have. These are just the worst. There are many more, some even involving me. Those I would only share by VERY VERY popular demand... and possibly a fifth of vodka.

Thanks for taking the time to read and sorry if I made you sick.