Julie Roth on Bladder Control

There's only one thing I can think about right now and it's how badly I need to pee. While the easy solution would be to go to the bathroom, I'm in the Kresge computer lab and I've laid all my stuff out. Besides if I left, one of these assholes might steal my apple so they have something to eat while they sell my stuff outside the Kresge Co-op.
Just the other day, I was driving home from College 9/10 when I suddenly realized that I was going to wet my pants. I prayed I could make it home, but I live in mid-town, which is a good 20 minute drive. Regardless, I didn’t make it past the first stop sign. I was sweaty and shaking and on the brink of tears debating on whether or not I should just let it happen, but I’m too psychologically fragile to handle being “that girl that peed in her car while driving.” Plus I probably wouldn’t be able to get the smell out. In a fit of panic I tore up that side road towards the Fire Department/Crown/Merrill thinking, “I’ll just park and run into the woods and do my thing.” However, my bladder was all, “YEAH RIGHT, BITCH. THE TIME IS NIGH.” So I did the only thing I could think of: I stopped at the stop sign near the top of the hill, threw my emergency/hazard lights on (like they actually excuse my van from doing illegal things by being parked in illegal places), jammed on the emergency brake, and put that mother into park so I could run behind that sparse clump of trees on the right (maybe you know them? Well, they are mine now). Upon completion, I pulled up my pants and tried to feel for any wet spots (because guys, women generally don’t have dicks so you just have to squat and hope you didn’t pee on your self, clothes, or shoes) as I trotted back to my van, keys still in the ignition.