Public bathrooms have really upped their technology game.
Toilets flush themselves, water magically appears when you place your palms in the communal sinks, hand dryers have become so powerful that you can literally watch your skin get sucked dry in a matter of seconds.
What a time to be alive!
Most of these newfangled public bathroom upgrades are pretty self explanatory and have been implemented to make doing your business away from the privacy of your own home a less disgusting experience.
Last week, I was with my family at a museum out of town when my daughter and I needed a bathroom break. We found a seemingly standard public restroom and used stalls next to each other. Lucky for me, it was my time of the month and I needed a fresh sanitary napkin. Just as I was about to swap my old pad for a new one, I noticed there was nowhere to dispose of my “waste”.
No tiny silver box drilled into the stall wall! What was a girl to do?
It was then that I noticed a white plastic tube fastened to the wall beside the toilet. It looked exactly like the picture below.
I don’t know why, but when I first entered the stall, I thought that it was an overly large air freshener and didn’t really pay it any attention. Upon further scrutiny, I discovered that this tube was in fact a space aged, feminine hygiene disposal unit. The word “Sanipod” was written across the front of it in cursive writing.
I wrapped my used pad in toilet paper and was excited to use the Sanipod for the very first time, but then I got totally confused. How the hell was I supposed to get my feminine “waste” inside the tube? There was no obvious opening, no little trap door or tiny garbage shoot. There were no directions visible on the Sanipod. What was I missing? I knocked on it a little and then my daughter started to ask me what I was doing. Wanting to avoid a conversation about maxi pad disposal with my five year old in a public bathroom, I panicked and put the used pad in my sweatshirt pocket. Feeling like a moron, I washed my hands and then stealthily tossed my pocket pad in the garbage on our way out of the bathroom. For the rest of the afternoon, I couldn’t get the stupid Sanipod out of my head. Why couldn’t I figure out how to use it? What was wrong with me? This was a product designed for menstruating women. I WAS A MENSTRUATING WOMAN, DAMMIT.
Our day at the museum was coming to a close and I knew that I couldn’t leave without solving the riddle of the Sanipod. I informed my children that they all needed to use the bathroom before leaving. My daughter and I entered the very same bathroom and used the very same stalls.
There it was again. That smug little Sanipod. Hanging on the wall like it was better than everyone else.
I channelled my inner Crime Scene Investigator as I scrutinized the Sanipod. What was I missing?
Suddenly, I noticed a small black circle on the very tip of the Sanipod. I touched it and nothing happened. Frustrated and about to give up, I held my right hand just above the black circle thinking that maybe it would somehow sense my presence like the faucet in the communal sinks. Like magic, the top of the Sanipod popped up exposing a small compartment for my personal feminine “waste”. I hurried to change my pad and giddily placed it in the Sanipod. With a cool swishing sound, the top of the Sanipod collapsed back down on the tube as I faintly heard the dull sound of my pad hitting the bottom of the inside of the tube.
I HAD TRIUMPHED OVER TECHNOLOGY!
SUCK IT, SANIPOD!
Researching the Sanipod for this post, I discovered that it comes in both black and white and a variety of sizes.They are available for both personal and commercial use. You can also get decorative wraps for your Sanipod if you desire to make your feminine “waste” tube more cohesive with your bathroom decor. In my opinion, the best feature of the Sanipod is its unique shape. Does it remind you of anything?
Anything at all?
Thanks for reading and I wish you all positive Sanipod experiences!
I know, it’s been forever since I’ve written ANYTHING and I appologize. To say that my life has been totally bananas since the end of January would be an understatement.
Here’s a run down of what’s been going down with NFred;
The Toy Shop where I worked for over twelve years closed its doors at the end of January. It’s sad and I miss my work family dearly. I knew my location was closing since September, so it wasn’t a shock, but it was a long drawn out process of repeatedly telling customers the sad news. It was also exhausting trying to keep my rage in check when asshats asked strangely personal questions about my future and demanded to know what was on sale. One asshat in particular singled me out to explain to his five year old grandson why I was closing his favourite store. I explained to the little guy as best I could through clenched teeth while wanting nothing more than to yell at Asshat Grandpa that it wasn’t MY decision. The high point of having the store close occurred when I got to fulfil my life long dream of cracking a beer IN THE SHOP once we closed the door for the last time. Dreams do come true, kids!
I took a few days off after the store closed and then returned to start work at a different Toy Shop location downtown. A thriving store in a distinguished neighbourhood with full shelves and zero asshats asking about the closing of my former location. The staff was lovely and I fell in love with a hipster tea shop on the same street that converted me into an obnoxious tea snob. I was happy to work there. Sure the commute sucked and I was nervous about being far from my diabetic son, but I was cautiously optimistic. Until…
On February sixth, my son made the switch from injections to an insulin pump to help better manage his diabetes. The first couple of days were a total gong show. Soaring high blood sugars followed by random lows. I had taken the week off work to help my son adjust to his new life and I’m so glad that I did. I wasn’t prepared for how much work the switch would entail. Waking up every two hours at night to test his blood sugar, weighing every single piece of food that he was going to put in his mouth, doing more math than I’ve ever done in my entire life to figure out carb counts , writing countless emails to his school to make sure they knew how to keep him alive. Exhausting. Things are slowly starting to fall into place, but I quickly realized that I needed to be closer to my son. My old Toy Shop was a five minute drive from my son’s school. In an emergency, I could get there quickly. The downtown Toy Shop was far, too far for me. Call me a Helicopter Mom or a Worry Wart or a Nervous Nelly if you please, but when it comes to my son’s health, I put him first. Always. So I made the agonising decision to resign from the Toy Shop so that I could be closer to my boy. It sucks. I’m sad. The Toy Shop was a huge part of my life, but in the end, I know I made the right decision.
In my sleep deprived delirium, I accepted an offer to work at a ridiculously adorable preschool in my neighbourhood. I am officially a Teacher’s Aid and have found myself the ever elusive Monday to Friday, nine to five job that is the unicorn of the retail world as those hours just don’t exist! I work with kids aged fifteen months to three years old and feel that a more fitting job title would be Professional Snot Wiper, Bum Changer and Toddler Herder. I had my first day last week and survived. A child even told me that I was beautiful. Will this be my forever career? I have no idea, but for now it works and I’m happy.
Holy Hell! I sure can ramble on about myself. If any of you are still reading and haven’t lapsed into a coma, this is the part where I talk about the future of What NFred Said.
I love this blog with all my heart. It’s like my fourth child. Fingers crossed, now that life is settling down a smidge and I have snagged myself regular working hours, I can FINALLY devote more time to writing. My problem has always been that I have more ideas than time. I hope to get on a permanent writing schedule soon. I’d also like to clean my disgusting home, get into shape, win a million dollars and find a cure for diabetes, but I’m taking it one day at a time.
Thanks everyone for reading. I hope all of you are having a splendid 2017. I promise I won’t be a stranger. Let’s chat soon, okay?
One of my biggest life goals is to get paid to write.
And when I say paid, I mean actual cold, hard cash.
I’m not interested in writing for “experience” or “exposure” because neither of those things buy groceries or get me any closer to achieving my goal.
For a long time, I told people that I would have a book published by the time I turned forty. I’ve come to the realization that this is not going to happen. I mean my fortieth birthday is just over a year and a half away and the only books I’ve written are the imaginary ones that I day dream about while I’m in the shower.
So if I’m not going to write a book, how else can I make money from my writing?
I have this nifty little blog, but publishers aren’t exactly lining up to throw money at me for my musings about parenting, cats and short shorts.
Do I gather my best work and randomly send it out to different publications? In theory this sounds like a great idea, but when I actually sit down to do the research, I get ridiculously overwhelmed. Then I get stressed and find myself shamefully polishing off an entire family sized bag of M&M’s.
Do I send my writing to other blogs? Websites? Magazines? Newspapers?
Do I start with local publications or the New York Times?
And then there’s the whole world of writing contests. I’ve entered a few over the years and have had a one hundred percent failure rate. Just the thought of entering another one fills me right up to the brim with self loathing and dread.
Do I start my own website? Self publish? Write a play? TV show? Screenplay for a movie about a writer at a creative crossroads?
Where is all this coming from? This need to make my writing for money dream a reality?
Could be that there are big changes happening at the toy shop.
Could be that the beginning of a new year has me feeling like I need to get my shit together.
Could be that I’m ready to put myself out there, to take a leap of faith into the writing world and see what happens.
So if you want to help out your old pal NFred reach her writing for money goal, please spread the word that I’m willing to write literally ANYTHING for money.
Essays, taglines, short stories, tweets, jokes, non-fiction, poetry, product descriptions, reviews, flash fiction, comics, grocery lists, obituaries, blog posts, speeches, Facebook statuses, Dear John letters, greeting cards, hieroglyphics, ANYTHING!
Also, if you have any suggestions of where I should start, I’m all ears.
Thank you so much and happy freak’n New Year! Here’s to a creative 2017!
So there I was, minding my own business, innocently going about my evening. My coworker was on her dinner break and I was finishing up some paperwork behind the cash. I heard some chatter at the front of the store and as I looked over to say hello, I realized that…
IT WAS HERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!
Holy crap! It was like my writing had conjured Her over to the The Toy Shop!
I momentarily contemplated running into the back room and forcing my coworker to deal with Her, but then decided to pull up my boot straps and handle it like the capable retail professional that I am.
In a booming voice, I called over “HELLO”. She nodded and then walked towards me with her child.
“Do you have those special tattoo pens?”, she asked while looking directly at my face.
“Yes, we do. Follow me”, I replied while looking directly at Her face.
I walked Her over to the section of the store where she could find what she was looking for and then I booked it back to the cash area.
It was obvious that she still didn’t recognize me.
As I was contemplating my forgettable status behind the safety of the cash area, she approached me, ready to pay. Because I’m super smooth in awkward situations, I asked her child if he was going to tattoo the word “mom” on his arm with his new pens. Well did that ever make Her laugh. Like a real, snort inducing chuckle.
AND THEN IT HAPPENED…
“Hey, I know you! From hockey!” she said with a smile.
“NO, YOU KNOW ME FROM BEING AN ASSHAT ABOUT FREE GIFT WRAPPING” is what I wanted to say, but all that came out was “yes”.
“I thought you looked familiar. Have you worked here long?’, she asked innocently.
“LONG ENOUGH TO REMEMBER THAT YOU’RE AN ASSHAT”, I thought but again replied with “yes”.
“Well I guess we’ll see you next weekend then. Nice seeing you again”, she said with a smile as she exited The Toy Shop.
NICE SEEING ME AGAIN?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?
If only she knew how NOT nice it was for ME seeing HER again.
I couldn’t help but think about Her for the rest of my shift. What kind of a person explodes on someone and then acts like it never happened? Maybe she regularly loses her shit on underpaid customer service employees making it next to impossible to keep us all straight in her asshat mind?
I have far too many questions that I fear will never get answered.
Who the crap is this woman?
What is Her deal?!?!?!?
I JUST DON’T KNOW.
Life really is full of surprises…and unpredictable plot twists…
I have a red patch of crusty dry skin growing out of my right eyebrow.
And it’s spreading.
I bought some over the counter cortisone cream in a desperate attempt to get rid of the crust, but it didn’t work. In fact, I think my crust liked the smelly cream because it appears to be thriving. As of this morning, I’ve developed two new patches on my forehead.
I haven’t felt this self conscious about my appearance since that time in grade eight when I cut off all my hair and the boys in my class started calling me Bill.
Where did these itchy patches of doom come from?
And what the crap are they?
And how the hell do I get rid of them?
My co-worker is convinced that the patches are a result of my gluten heavy diet.
A friend suggested that they might be a symptom of stress.
Another friend said that it might be a sign of dehydration.
I was pretty confident that it was ringworm until Google proved me wrong. Now I’m thinking either eczema or mange.
I know I should just go to the doctor already, but who has the time?
An easier solution might be to cut bangs.
Or to start wearing headbands.
Or to get really large glasses.
If you have any crust busting tips, I’d love to hear them.
Thanks for reading and my crust and I will see you tomorrow!
I have no reason to be this bone crushingly exhausted, but here I am, sitting on my couch in my jam jams, struggling to keep my eyes open.
My day at work was pretty uneventful, so I really don’t have any excuse for wanting to go to bed at eight thirty on a Saturday night.
The only exciting part of work today occurred when an older gentleman told me that I should inform all my customers to buy the squirrel socks we sell because his daughter wore them for her government French exam and she passed. I smiled and said “awesome” and then he went on a giant tangent about how hard it is to get a job in the government. I did my best to look busy in an attempt to get away from the conversation, but he wouldn’t stop talking at me. After rambling on for a solid five minutes he told me AGAIN how I should tell all my customers about the magical squirrel socks and then he said “thanks, Buddy” and left.
Buddy? People are so weird.
Tomorrow I have a ridiculous day “off”. A bowling tournament, two hockey games, skating lessons and our crazy annual toy store staff party extravaganza.
I’m going to need a clone, a caffeine drip and a solid eighteen hours of sleep tonight if I plan on surviving tomorrow’s madness.
What’s that I hear? It’s my sweet, sweet couch calling!
Remember when MuchMusic and MTV actually aired music videos?
Oh man, those were the days!
I used to tape Much Mega Hits on the old VCR and replay my faves over and over.
I’d learn the lyrics, memorize the choreography and basically rock out with my totally radical preteen self.
Well hold on to your scrunchies because I recently discovered that MuchMusic has a little program called the Friday Night Dance Party where for a whole, glorious TWO HOURS they play nothing but Top 40 music videos!!!
I could literally sit here on my couch, contently watching music videos for the rest of my life.
I don’t know why I love them so much. Maybe because they’re so freak’n random? And nonsensical? And quirky? And ridiculous? And thought provoking? And confusing?
I’ve watched at least a dozen videos tonight and here are some of the highlights;
-Joe Jonas singing while a group of bikini clad women and one chubby gentleman in a Speedo passionately threw chunks of vanilla cake at each other.
-Zayn, formally of One Direction, crying black tears and making out with a model while their heads swirled around in nausea inducing kaleidoscope patterns.
-A girl sitting on a chair, alone in an empty room, emoting deeply to the camera about an ex-lover. She was really sad and I think all she needed was a hug and a home cooked meal.
-A wedding in a country bar between a bleach blond Barbie type and a man with enormous buck teeth who was at least twice her age. Among the wedding guests were a bald man wearing denim overalls with NOTHING underneath and a K.D. Lang look-a-like who owned the dance floor with some killer line dancing moves.
-A gang of dudes on skateboards who all had their faces wrapped in tensor bandages for some reason that I’m not hip enough to understand.
-Justin Bieber getting his stomach licked and then being kidnapped by some guys in creepy masks who brought him and his lady friend to a skate park where they all danced and did sick skate board tricks together.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some more videos to watch.
In celebration of this holiday that is probably made up, I have compiled a list of twenty-six things I love about my best friend.
She is one of the only people left on the planet who still sends actual letters in the actual mail.
She takes epic chin selfies.
I’m pretty sure that if you asked her who her best friend was she would say her dogs and I’m okay with that because her “pets” have never written her a lovely list. So there, dogs.
She drinks maple whisky out of a glass with a skull on it while knitting and watching musicals on TV. She’s the perfect mix of a party girl and your eighty-five year old Grandma.
Her hair gets disgustingly greasy if she doesn’t wash it everyday. Seeing her in all her oily glory makes me feel better about my own appearance.
She swears like a sailor.
She’s so tiny that she can still wear kids sized clothes and sometimes the teachers at her school confuse her for a student. (FYI she teaches at an elementary school.)
She’s going to name her future child Ming Ling because I said so.
When I ask her what I should write about, her standard answer is, “ME! AND MY DOGS!”
We can go from talking about serious life issues to farts in a single sentence.
She holds my hand in public.
Being a vegetarian, she really appreciates it when I text her pictures of meat.
Her first impression of me when we met was that I was a “weirdo”. My first impression of her was that she was “loud”. We both still feel the same way, eighteen years later.
A demolition derby, learning to surf in Costa Rica and acting in a Japanese play are all examples of her random adventures.
She has special seatbelts for her dogs in her car.
She’s a huge fan of recycling, composting, biodegradable household products, the environment, animals and reusable containers. If she hadn’t become a teacher she probably would have become David Suzuki.
Two things that fill her with rage are shovelling her driveway and being stuck behind slow walkers.
She has several friends who happen to be llamas. None of them are her BEST friend…just throwing that out there.
Her eyebrows always reveal her true feelings.
She sing talks CONSTANTLY.
She has a special skirt that she wears when she goes running.
She gets sassy when she drinks.
Her ideal food is dill pickle chips.
Her musical tastes are on point with those of a thirteen year old girl.
Her childhood home strongly resembled a Hobbit Hole.
She uses kindness as the driving force in her life because she’s a nauseatingly good person.
Happy Friends Day everyone and thanks for reading.
Now go tell your best friend that they rock and I’ll see you tomorrow!