A couple of hours ago, I had to pee.  I could buffer this confession with a euphemism, like, “I had to use the bathroom,” or “I had to do one of my little jobs,” but the “pee” is the crux of the story.  So I went to pee.  We have a lovely bathroom at work; matte pewter fixtures, purple walls, a large basin sink.  It’s very clean.  You see, “clean” is also important to the story, which is why it is being emphasized.  I went to “pee” in the “clean” bathroom.  We are all on the same page.

I settled in, content with my lot in life that I get to pee daily in such a clean, purple bathroom.  Mid-pee, I heard something rustle behind me, sort of like a leaf gently shaken loose from a branch in fall, and wondered what that could be.  I turned to look, and to my horror, that the neatly folded five dollar bill I’d had in my back pocket was now floating in the same toilet bowl into which I was relieving myself.  There was nothing I could do.  The pee had hit the bowl, as the saying doesn’t go.  I briefly said a prayer of thanks that this was not a “big job” I was turning out and finished my business.

Dramatic Re-Creation of Events

I wiped, stood, then considered my options with my pants pooled around my favorite black high heeled boots.  Flush the bill?  Throw out the money with the peewater as the saying doesn’t go?  Maybe if it were one dollar, but this was a five, and I’m a cheap bitch.  I was afraid to leave the room, lest someone come in and pee on my money*.  Like MacGyver, I searched the bathroom for something with which I could extract the money from the potty.  Unlike MacGyver, I came up blank and made a decision I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy:  I went in with my bare hands.  Actually, first I did a dance I like to call “I have to stick my hand in peewater”, which looks a lot like the “I just found a spider in my comforter” dance, only with the “I just did a shot of cheap tequila” face.  Then I went in with my bare hands.

I think at that point I blacked out, because the next thing I remember was washing the money in the sink.  My pants were up, the toilet was flushed, and the only indicator of my crisis situation was the cash being rinsed.    I grabbed a stack of paper towels, laid the bill on them, then covered it with another stack of paper towels while I washed my hands for twenty minutes, then soaped up and washed the sink, then washed my hands again before putting on half a bottle of hand sanitizer.

So the question is this:  what do I do with the bill?  Clearly I can’t touch it again without gloves; it’s currently still wadded up in the paper towels inside of a plastic bag.  I would also not feel comfy pawning it off on the kindly Indian woman at the Subway, half because I like her and half because I don’t want her to make anyone’s sandwich after she’s touched that five.  I’ve agonized over my options, and I’m polling on what it’s come down to:

*If I had a nickel for every time I’ve had to say this–well, I probably wouldn’t have to fish pee-covered bills from the toilet.

I may, of course, be overstating the case with the title of this post, but there was a definite surplus of intoxicated and hormonal teenagers in “Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince”.  Undoubtedly, the movie will be woefully under-reviewed, so here’s mine, including spoilers, because I have no filter:

My favorite part of the movie:  the “New Moon” trailer.  I wasn’t expecting it, because I thought Warner Brothers would promote WB movies only.  So when I saw the now familiar sweeping ocean panorama that marks the opening of the trailer, I went all Linda Richman at a Streisand show.  The guy sitting next to me leaned perceptibly away from me as I clutched at my shirt and moaned, “Oh. My. Gawd.”  Some people cheered, no one booed, and every woman in the place gasped audibly at shirtless Jacob.  I was tweeting it before Jacob even turned into a wolf.

My least favorite part of the movie:  the woman next to me who seemed to be having a sexual affair with her popcorn.  She thoroughly fondled, tongued, and sucked every piece with lusty relish.  I imagined ways to kill her with her own bucket.

Surprising moment:  Ginny Weasley in her pajamas getting on her knees in front of Harry Potter to tie his shoe lace.  Nothing like a thinly veiled allusion to blowjobs in a kids’ movie.  Actually, there was a lot of mild sexual behavior and intoxication–someone was always making out or drinking potions or ‘butterbeer’.  At one point Professor Slughorn gives beer to Harry and Ron (which was in the book, in their defense).

Something’s missing:  the entire story of Voldemort’s family.  Also, Hagrid and Neville were almost completely unused.  No funeral for Dumbledore (though there was a scene with lit wands that vaguely reminded me of a Journey concert).  I’m sure there was more missing, but these were pieces I was looking forward to and now I feel unsatisfied.

What they did right:  captured the horny teenager that is at the core of every Hogwart’s student. After the past movies, I’ve always said, “Where was all the making out?”  Half Blood Prince delivers the lust.

What they did wrong:  added crap that was not in the book.  I’m a Potter purist.  I don’t want new stuff, especially when they already left out some of the old stuff.

It was good in the way you expect a movie with a $200 million budget to be good.  They had no excuse not to have the best costumes, filmography, and special effects.  Cute boys* didn’t hurt either.

*With the exception of Rupert Grint.  Poor Rupert.  In addition to having the least attractive name known to man, he’s just not a sexy beast, and he’s had to stand next to the increasingly adorable Daniel Radcliffe for nearly ten years.  I know some people love Rupert, but I’m struck again and again how NOT attracted to him I am.

At 3 a.m. on Sunday, I couldn’t sleep, so I did the logical thing and made the two-hour drive to Virginia Beach to watch the sun rise over the Atlantic.  Totally worth it, by the way; if you have the means, I highly recommend it.

P.E., this would be so much easier if you could just bend at the hips (that's what she said)

Pocket Edward, ever by my side, made a rare daytime appearance to soak up some rays and build some sandcastles.  He looked just like I imagined he would on Isle Esme, though the pea coat may have been overkill.

Our appearance caused quite a stir.  I didn’t expect people to be so judgmental in this day and age, but there they were, scrunching their noses and tut-tutting in our direction.

Or maybe they were just laughing at me, I don’t know.  What I do know is that I regret not picking up the Pocket Edward with the sunglasses.

The turrets gave him flashbacks of Volterra

I should have photographed the faces of the children who had to move away from their own sandcastle so a grown-ass woman could pose her action figure on it.  They’ll be telling the story for years.