Libby Hill

As I sit down to write my column this evening I find myself not wanting to talk about this past week whatsoever, as it’s been what one might call, a phenomenally bad week.

So instead I’ve decided to share with you a horrifyingly embarrassing experience from my past in order to win friends and influence people. And I’m not even drunk. Yet.

Before I begin I suppose I’ll have to also reveal an additional quirk that I used to indulge in.

Though not a particularly politically correct habit, whenever I was alone in the public restroom in Pugsley Center I went ahead and used the larger stall because, well, to be honest, sitting on that toilet always made me feel like a princess. The reason behind that would be because when I sat on that toilet my feet didn’t touch the ground.

That said, I’ll continue my story: this one time, in the Pugsley Center ladies’ room, I was tinkling on the big potty, swinging my feet and humming to myself, when I decided I should slide back a little bit.

It was upon attempting this maneuver that things went terribly, terribly wrong.

I tried to scootch back on the toilet seat while not interrupting my flow, so to speak and then things got messy. In short, there was pee everywhere.

Now, I don’t quite understand the logistics of what took place, but what I do know is that my pants were rendered unwearable and I spent the rest of the evening draped in a blanket from my car, with no way to explain it without revealing my sticky story. Quite an embarrassing moment that I’ve now shared with all of you. Super.

You can reach the potty princess Libby Hill at [email protected].