I know you are on the edge of your seats for the exciting conclusion, right?

Before I continue, I have a lot of issues with public restrooms. Unfortunately, I have the bladder the of a pea. My husband, on the other hand, finds no shame in using the facilities. But, his all time moment of shame was at a Fazoli's about a million of years ago when we were dating.

We were coming back home from Florida and had stopped for a bite. He goes in to take care of some business before we get back on the road. As he is trying to, um, complete the transaction, there was some apparent multitasking going on, because the seat shifted and, well, he got his shorts wet.

Like, soaked.

I also seem to remember something about the seat being broken and there may have been pinching in a not-so-nice location.

Big Daddy still hates that chain to this day and has banned them all.

::Scooby-Doo back to present::

I go into the ladies room. As I get my self situated, the toilet flushes. With the force of a power washer, my backside is soaking. And I am very disgusted. I am hurrying to get dried off when-- oh, but of course--the thing flushes again.

To make a long, drippy story short, I finally get cleaned up to leave.

As we are walking in the parking lot, I am asking my husband if my shorts are wet and tell him what happened.

He looks at me with the most serious look and says, "Don't talk to me about peeing on yourself. You remember Fazoli's? Where you dot your eyes and get covered in pee."

I am bent over with laughter. That made it all better.

But, O'Charlie's? I won't be back for a while. No offense.