Shit Happens… Oh Yes It Does!


Today, I’m in a generous mood. So much so that I’m going to let you in on a little Red Whine Diaries’ story… one from the Vault Of Shame. I’ll probably regret sharing this one, but what the hell,  here goes nothing…

Be warned though, ’cause it could happen to you too! In fact, I bet it already has…

So not so very long ago, I was lucky enough to waste three precious hours of my sacred life in bumper-to-bumper Toronto traffic. The upside was that My 3 Beasts were sleeping peacefully in the back… it was a beautiful day out, so I was able to lower the windows and enjoy a nice, smoggy, nitrogen oxide-induced breeze… Tunes were blazin’. Really, it wasn’t all that bad. That is, until…

Rumble, rumble! An enchilada-induced bubble made its way across my lower abdomen.  I straighten my spine… OMG! OMG! OMG! No! No! No! Shit! Shit! Shit! (Literally!) Please do not let this happen to me… again! Think of something else! Anything else!

– 99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer!!!… Didn’t help!

– Kegel ass exercise… Didn’t help!

– Shove random pieces of gum in my mouth (not sure why, but seemed like the logical thing to do)… Didn’t help!

– Meditate! That’s right! I tried build a mental dam and block the flow of Mr. Poo… Didn’t help!

– Maybe it’s just a fart? I was too scared to find out.

No, this was the real deal… Coming at me like a freight train!  Keep in mind, I’m stuck in traffic… on a higway!!! There was no way to make a quick turn or exit anytime soon . I was stuck between a rock and a hard poo. My head was spinning around like the Exorcist, scouting out the neighbouring cars. Do they know what’s happening? Are they aware there is a 40 year old mother in the minivan next to them who is about to shit her pants?

Well, that time I was spared. Mr Poo retracted his head like a turtle in distress. I was able to effectively do my kegel ass clenches just in time to pull into a gas station at Mock 10.

However, there was another time, also not so very long ago, that I ended up having to frantically resort to a Glad Tupperware container… in my car. Yes, that’s right,  I am a grown woman and I took a shit… in Tupperware… in my car! Sigh…

They do advertise it as "TO GO"... Just sayin'...

Do they advertise it as “TO GO” for people like me? Or is it just a coincidental pun?

A humbling experience to say the least! One that has cost me hours of therapy.

You’re probably wondering why I feel the need to share this with you? Well, here’s the thing… My Little Orange Crush is fully shitter trained, although to my surprise, he too shit his pants the other day (the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!). You see, he was playing a game of hockey, the score was tied, and he needed to score the winning goal… so naturally, one cannot call a time-out, but would rather drop a grenade in their pants. Naturally! Also My Agent Orange has been showing interest in torturing me with potty bootcamp.

So, seeing that I too shit myself in public… who am I to tell my sons to use the toilet? Or teach them any etiquette for that matter? Seriously, the Mom who succumbed to dropping a load into her LUNCH Glad Tupperware, in the car no less?!?

I’m thinking the whole potty training thing is so overrated anyways. I mean, there IS something to be said about wearing diapers! God only knows I wish I had been sporting them that fateful day… Plus, you only end up back in them later in life anyway, right? So why even bother?

With the exception of a lobotomy, the only way to get through life after an incident like that is to look at it from the bright side. What I do know is this… My incident has made me a better, more understanding mother. ‘Cause when My Beasts do have “accidents” in their tighty-whities, or Tupperware for that matter, I understand better than anyone that, yes oh yes indeed, shit does happen!


A Humble Red Whino

Is the G-Spot really all it’s made out to be?

Based on my last post, I hope you’re all feelin’ a little less horny. (If you missed my last post… WTF, read it!) But, unfortunately, there’s another component of Spring that we need to discuss…the dreaded “G” word: gardening!

I don’t do gardening. I have fake plants from Dollarama in my window flower boxes! They’ve been there for more than 3 years. This is the extent of my gardening abilities. I have ZERO interest in it!

But now I’ve become a stay-at-home with my Little Orange Crush, I’m feeling the domestic pressures of having to grow a vegetable garden. I try to get enthused about it, especially when I see signs that say “Spring is here. We’re so excited we could wet our plants”. But as punny cute as it is, I’m feeling pretty dry about the whole idea. I need to be titillated, People!

Thing is, I’m not opposed to having a vegetable garden, but I’m not convinced it’s all that great either. There are just so many other things I’d rather be doing, like swallowing knives, for instance.

But I’m willing to be convinced otherwise. Until then, here are some reasons why people swear by vegetable gardens, followed by my thoughts against on them:

Enjoy the outdoors

I love the outdoors. I just prefer to spend my time outside with my ass planted in a Muskoka chair, on my back deck, a bottle glass of wine in hand.

Save money

This I understand if you are from 19 and Counting and have 300 mouths to feed. Otherwise, really? How many friggin’ veggies do you eat, People? Last I checked, we were not going broke from our outrageous spending on vegetables… If there is a type of garden that lowers our mortgage or helps our retirement savings grow, I’m all for it! But veggies are not digging us into the poor house. Pun intended!

Make it a family affair

Unless Big J is having an affair with a hoe… I’m a little lost on this one! Camping, parks, waterslides, swimming, hikes, these are things we’d rather do with our Little Orange Crush. I didn’t spend my childhood hunched over a patch of dirt planting veggies with my Mama, and I turned out alright. Right? Hello?!?

Therapeutic healing powers

Really? ‘Cause it looks like it’ll do a number on my knees and my back. Not to mention exposing my leathery youthful skin to UV rays! Then again, I can think of an offensive four letter gardening word that just might have therapeutic benefits… W@#D! For medicinal purposes, of course!

Physical activity

Hmmm…The last time I participated in any physical activity, a seed was planted indeed. Shit, I ended up 50 pounds heavier with a baby on my hip! I’ve since sworn off any type of physical activity, thank you very much!

Gardening, well, it all just seems like a lot of whining when I’d much rather be wining, you know?

So here is my solution… maybe I can seduce sweet-talk Big J into doing it for me with the promise of healing, therapeutic results. Because as only a wise woman knows, if you want to grow your own dope… plant a man!

And who knows, maybe he’ll dig deep enough and we can enjoy our very own G-spot after all. Now that’s a reason to garden, if I do say so myself!


Red Whino

And that Ladies and Gentleman pretty much sums it up! THE END!

And that Ladies and Gentleman pretty much sums it up! THE END!