Conversations with my bladder.

Just to set the scene for you imagine me in my bed in my dorm room as herds of what I can only describe as water buffalo wearing high heeled shoes run up and down the hall at 2:30 am because it's ladies night and that's when the water buffalo put on their heels and go dance. (It only makes sense.)

So here I lay and all of a sudden my bladder interrupts my frustrations toward the water buffalo.

Bladder: Hey! Can we go to the bathroom?

Me: No, there are watter buffalo outside wearing heels and I"m afraid that if I go out there I'll kill them.

Bladder: That's a fair thought, but we're still going. Nice try though.

Me: No, I'm serious, we are not going.

Bladder: How attached are you to this bedding and your sense of dignity?

Me: Fine, but if I kill the water buffalo it's your fault.