Memoirs of the Vogue Shitter

This all started with a text message.

A text message that I actually heard only because I was parked in the front of house at the Vogue watching my sister in law devour a vegetarian burrito like it was the last pussy on the planet.

I didn’t mention this to her at the time, while she was busily licking and nibbling her way to victory, but it was pretty graphic.

Our relationship has reached a whole new level.

I love you Chloe.

‘This thing is huge, do you want some?’

I totally would but generally in matters of the vegetarian burrito I like to run that shit by my husband first and since he is sort of engaged at the moment I have to decline.

It was the right thing to do.

So my phone starts making noises and I delve into the nether reaches of my purse to find it.

The text is from my mother in law and says only ‘call me immediately’.

So I do.

In the toilet.

Because that is the quietest place available.

She informs me that some assholes are making comments on Matt’s official Facebook page that our house is looking empty and they hope we have a terrible Christmas.

I’m all ‘my Dad is there, don’t worry.’

Maybe.

So I call my Dad three hundred and sixty eight times and he doesn’t answer.

Finally I call my Mom.

Apparently my Dad is asleep on the couch at his very own house and not mine where Christmas is seemingly ‘being made terrible’.

Awesome.

So I call our local Police Department to inform them of our situation.

They assure me that I am not being hysterical and that they will happily send a couple cars out to secure our ‘very empty looking house’ until my Dad remembers that he is supposed to be house sitting for us and arrives to sit on our house.

I am in the midst of crouching by the handicap shitter giving a complete statement in the event that Christmas has actually been destroyed when I am lucky enough to meet the antagonist of our story.

Some antiquated uber bitch is washing her hands furiously and fucking glaring at me.

‘I paid a hundred dollars to hear Matthew Good sing not to hear you talking on your cell phone in the bathroom.’

I am totally stunned.

I mean we are in the fucking bathroom.

It’s not like I am taking a call beside her in the theater or even interrupting her experience in the lobby.

I am in the shitter.

You can hardly hear anything in here.

Maybe that was the problem.

If you plan to enjoy the concert from the obscure location that is the shitter at the Vogue than I imagine the simple act of someone flushing the toilet let alone talking on their phone could mess with you hearing the muffled voice of the Matt.

‘I am talking to the police.’

It seemed important enough to me and was basically all I had.

‘I don’t care who you are talking to; you are a rude idiot and should not be talking on your phone in here.  Who the fuck do you think you are?  You obviously don’t care for his music so what are you even doing here?’

‘I’ll have you know that I am actually trying to stop Christmas from being destroyed at Matt’s house.’

‘What are you a fucking elf?’

‘I’m his wife.’

‘You know what sweetheart, Matt was married to a stupid blonde bitch at one point in his life but I can assure you that he isn’t anymore.’

Slow.   Fucking.   Clap.

And with that she leaves me crouch on the floor with officer Stadanko asking if I am still there.

‘I think so.’

Now I am not a big concert go-er, never have been, but is it a common occurrence to have women impersonating the significant others of musicians in the bathroom?

So I finish making my statement… rudely… in the bathroom.

The cogs in my little brain just grinding away in precisely how I am going to square shit up with this bitch.

She said she had paid a hundred dollars to hear Matt sing and if that was the case she was not only paying for the singing part.

That is the cost of the VIP package in which among other things you get to attend a meet and greet with Matt after the show.

A meet and greet that tonight, ladies and gentlemen, I just decided I was also going to attend.

We locked eyes when she came in.

I gave her a wink and said it was really nice to see her again.

Matt had no idea what the fuck was going on and sign a bunch of shit for her and her entourage.

Turns out they were old family friends of his parents.

I didn’t say a word just watched her squirm while she waited for me to blow her out of the toilet water.

Much like the vegetarian burrito situation, it was the right thing to do.

Cause I am a lady.

Who hangs out in the shitter.