I am part of a “Word Blog Challenge” – a few bloggers got together with the careful coaxing from Natasha over at the “dear me” blog.
We all threw names at fish, someone put their hand in, chose a fish – with a word on it and we
had to were asked politely to blog about the word.
There is no prize money. There is very little in the way of fame and fortune. Just chicks sitting around blogging.
Someone picks a word and we all blog about it. I misunderstood. I thought we all give a word, and then we play “swap swap” so everyone ends up with a different word. But I did not make up the rules, and I just want to play along, so here I am with my fish word.
The word chosen was/is “first”
First time you drove a car.
First time you realised that Murder She Wrote is running out of cast members. Someone in Cabot Cove is going to die. One person per episode. There are like 15 people living in Cabot Cove. If you woke up to find that you live there, then well, you are fucked.
First time someone called you “tannie.”
First time someone called you “Mommy.”
First time you cried because he was not worth it.
First time you cried because he was worth it.
First time someone gave up their seat to you because they thought you were pregnant. And you were not.
First time you went to the clinic and hoped you were not pregnant. He was fine to have sex with, but really your entire life joined to him? Yeh, fuck that!
First time you pee’d on a stick and hoped you were pregnant.
First time you were.
First ….. first …. sounds like thirst … which makes me think of wine
First …. dirst … prist …. kirst? Okay, I’ve got nothing.
First day. First job.
I started working at a company that was small. Offices were small – huge if it was your first job.
The toilet was one door off the main office.
I do not use toilets in places I do not know. I rather hold it in.
I cannot poo in a strange toilet. If I think that someone might hear or smell me.
I used to be in boarding school, and I would not poo from Sunday when I was dropped off until Friday afternoon when I was collected. By Friday lunchtime I was so full of shit, literally that I was too scared to laugh in case I poo’d in my knickers.
First job. First day. I was so nervous. I was sitting there trying to work out how to switch the computer on. I was hired as a designer, which was a bit of an over reach, as I did not know how the put the computer on.
I sat there. My tummy started to make a squishy sort of sound. I realised that I really needed the bathroom.
I sat there and started to sweat, as I knew this was not one of those instances where I could hold it in.
I shot to the toilet – again toilet door is the door right off the offices. My bowels lost control,and everything including the 3 carrots I ate last Thursday shot out my arse.
The smell was peel-the-paint-off-the-walls bad.
I flushed, I flushed and then I stood there and died from embarrassment as I knew I had to walk back in the office, with the fresh bouquet of freshly-shat-yourself lingering around me.
I went back to my desk. Mortified.
An office colleague got up, went to the bathroom, opened the door, stood there for two ticks, closed the door, thought better of it and headed back to his desk.
I died! I was so embarrassed. I knew that I might end up having to take another run at the loo as I clearly had a tummy bug.
I stood up, packed my bag, explained I needed to leave. Quickly. I sprinted across Cape Town – we lived in St. George’s Mall and I worked in Commercial Street which is on the other end of town.
I am sure no one else remembers my first giant smelly poo at my first job on my first day.
I do. In graphic olfactory detail.
Funny thing those firsts, they stick with you for a long time.
Bloggers who are taking part in the Word Blog Challenge and who have published posts are:
If you blogged and I missed your post, let me know.