Wynona's big brown beaver

Snakes on a plane? Feh! Not nearly as frightening as cramps on a train.

I spent the weekend seeing family in Michigan, and because I just didn't feel like driving, I took the train over. Well, more accurately, the train took me over. Because I wasn't spending too many days, I made a valiant attempt to pack light, even forsaking my laptop for the weekend - you have to understand, that is akin to Linus deciding to leave his blanket at home. It was a leap of faith, but I wanted to be as efficient as possible this time, and it's not like I have zero access to 'net-connected computers at my siblings' homes. Besides, I needed to have a free hand to carry my Sponge Bob body pillow, because it's just easier to sleep on the train if one has a giant, soft pillow instead of a tiny little toilet-seat-shaped neck pillow. There's also the added bonus of the doubt and fear in the eyes of strangers when they see a middle-aged woman toting around a giant yellow pillow with a goofy face on it.

Well, one thing my careful calculations told me I could jettison when I prepped for the trip was any sort of, ahem, feminine that-time-of-the-month products. Because, after all, those four tampons kicking around the bottom of my purse would've weighed me down incalculably. No way would I need those, according to my count. Damn, I'm smart!

Except, um...I'm not.

I was feeling pretty wretched on the train this morning, but I thought that could be the cumulative effect of drinking all weekend and suddenly being thrown into a first-shift schedule so I could see everyone while I was over there. I must say, I'm really spoiled to staying up until four or five in the morning and then having my breakfast while General Hospital is on. My body clock is just a little fucked up today.

No, I decided it was really fucked up when I realized, somewhere around the Michigan/Indiana state line, that I had started that which wasn't supposed to start until next weekend, and I had no supplies with which to be prepared for it. Well, no wonder I felt like I'd swallowed a chain saw. I spent the rest of the ride feeling miserably uncomfortable and gross, and was doubly glad I had both seats to myself.

When we got into Union Station in Chicago, I made for the restroom by the South boarding lounge. To my dismay, my utterly pissed-off dismay, I found that the tampon machine bore the "OUT OF ORDER" sign in just such a manner as to taunt me. I, however, would not be thwarted, and pointed myself toward the restroom upstairs by the food court. I had to wait in line there, and just as I thought I would hear the angels sing, I came face-to-face with another sign that said not only "OUT OF ORDER", but if I read between the lines, it said "FUCK YOU, KATY."

Fucked I was. I had to go and plunk down five bucks for a small box of beaver dams in one of the magazine shops in the terminal, which really irritated me since I have several nearly full packages of them at home. Then I had to go wait in line again to go in the restroom and take care of things.

Upon entering my stall, I beheld the following sight, and felt compelled to take a picture. Now I feel compelled to share that picture with You, the Internet as a Whole.



I hoped, really and sincerely hoped, that someone had just mixed some Crystal Light in a water bottle and forgotten it. But I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that someone who had taken lots of vitamins in the morning had left behind a specimin. Yes, I have to tell myself it was a specimin, because I don't really care to think about the other reasons someone might carry urine in a water bottle (unless it's to throw on door-to-door salesmen, and then I'm 100% in favor of it, and would recommend upgrading to a spray bottle).

Needless to say, when my bus got into town and Jess brought the Betards to pick me up at the station, I was more than ready for pain killers and sleep.

Oh, I promised you a look at some beaver, didn't I?



This beaver seems to be mugging a computer terminal.




I think he's raping a pad of paper, and adding insult to injury by drawing a smiley face on it, but I'm too scared to know for sure.




This beaver had bonus boobs. Everything I like, all in one place!


Listen, when I promise beaver? I cough up the beaver, baby.