Advocation of the Shenis

A few (days) ago, Beth Teliho blogged about something called The Shenis.

It’s exactly what it sounds like: a penis for girls.

I could probably find a purple funnel in my kitchen if I looked really hard…

Nothing Freudian; just practicality when it comes to things like being able to pee standing up like one of the guys. #EqualityForAll

You’re doing it wrong. Cute, but wrong.

If they ever make an infomercial about this product (have they already??), I will audition to be one of the people living a terrible existence in a choppy black-and-white montage before they experienced The Shenis.

And I will win that “role” by telling this story.

The Year Was 2005…

I was a skinny Mexican teenager unaffected by the mass amounts of mini-donuts I was consuming at a small-town Fall Fair…

As I was for a number of years…RIP teenage me…

For four days at the end of every summer, our little Smithers was overtaken by madness. Semi-truck after semi-truck would pile into town, and we would watch excitedly as we could see our favourite rides being constructed before our eyes like Legos in a local field. We prepared ourselves for the Parade (building and dancing on a Bible-themed float down Main Street, skeet-a-skeet whaaaat?) and the ensuing Midnight Madness, where you paid $20 for a bracelet that entitled you to an unlimited amount of rides and skeezy out-of-towners trying to sell you stuff. And, of course, mini-donuts.

As will happen, a group of my friends and I needed to use the bathroom. Pairs? Try fives.

We made our way through the crowds, only to find this unfortunate situation in front of the girl’s washroom:

Begrudgingly, we got into line, trying to calculate just how much this would cut in our unlimited ride time. After 10 minutes, we all started doing the scissor dance

and after 5 minutes of that, I noticed that this was happening in front of the men’s washroom:

So I said, “Girls, I’m going in..I think!”

They all said, “Girl, don’t do it. This line’s gotta move eventually.”

I, in my infinite wisdom, “Girls, my girl can wait no longer. Cover me.”

So I took a deep breath and crossed the line…into Urinal Territory. I could hear whispers of friends and strangers alike, as I was clearly a groundbreaking bad-ass.

Friends, I’m not gonna lie…it was pretty bad. There were 3 rotten urinals against the wall; I took a few more deep breaths, entered one of two sit-down stalls, and locked the door. I had no sooner unzipped my pants and sat down than I heard it.

A rumbling in the floors, in the walls. Drunken shouts. The boys bathroom was now filled with what I imagined to be at least 5 football-player-sized meatheads who didn’t need urinals, but needed to crap or puke or both.

In terror, I quickly bent my knees and tucked my dazzly flip-flopped feet up on the toilet seat. I don’t know why I thought this would prevent them from seeing me, but I held my breath – praying that God would cause the cunning enemy-defeating spirit of my Yaqi ancestors to descend upon me with powers of invisibility.

BANG. BANG BANG BANG.

My stall door rattled and shook until I thought it was going to unhinge. I expected at any moment to see a head pop up underneath the door. Or worse, a body crawling underneath to unlock it from within. But, too drunk to figure out what was happening, these boys started yelling at each other in frustration.

“Fudge! This stupid fudging door is fudging stuck! This is fudging bullcrap! Oh wait, there’s another one, this one better fudging work…”   *

*Actually different words.

So there I hunched and waited as each one of those gentlemen took turns using the one available stall. Oh yeah, and you can bet that I’d still never peed.

5 minutes…10…15 minutes later, the stomping and swearing and bodily function noises finally subsided. Ever so slowly, I let my legs unfold and my feet touch the floor again.

Quiet.

I bent over, looking at the floor from all angles for any evidence of feet.

Nothing.

I sighed and released my bladder like Niagara Falls.

I flushed, unlocked the door, washed my hands and ran like a bat out of hell.

And guess what I found in front of ladies washroom?

That’s right. The amount of time I was trapped was equal to or more than the time it took to go through the entire line-up. Everyone was gone, including my friends.

Not. Worth. It.

Suddenly, a lady came out of the women’s washroom, and her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Oh my god! Are you okay? We watched you walk in there, and literally a bunch of guys barreled in right after you. I was so worried!”

I looked around at the emptiness. “Well, that makes one of you. They didn’t find me; I’m okay. Thanks.”

And if that wasn’t enough, it took me bloody half an hour to find my friends. Who laughed their asses off when I told them what had happened.

Come to think of it, a decade later, I’m not in contact with any of them. Hmmm…

So, in short, if I’d had the Shenis with me that day, I’d have more fake friends and less of an addiction to mini-donuts.

Actually, nah, that sounds like a win to me. Thanks, Yaqi ancestors.

 

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10 thoughts on “Advocation of the Shenis

  1. Haha Matt bought be a “little jane” I think it’s called. I have had it for a couple years but have yet to try it. I’m scared it’s going to leak or something!

    • Little Jane! Ha! So much classier than Shenis! 😉 Well, you guys go for adventures up north a fair bit; there’s always an opportunity! I’m still skeptical on the clean-up aspect of it as well, as most of my commenters seem to be today!

  2. And what do you do with it when it’s dirty? Fold it up and repackage it and carry it in your purse? No thanks!

    • Yeah, see, that’s probably the one thing holding me back from entirely jumping in. Unless I had a guarantee of finding a sink to rinse it in right away, which kind of defeats the whole “I’m in the middle of nowhere so I’ll use my Shenis to pee” purpose.

  3. Okay, the above commenter touched on my concern too. When it’s covered in pee….where do you put it? How do you clean it? Rinse it with a water bottle? That’s just not enough. Because….gross.

    So glad I’m seeing this on my computer now where I can comment and share and all that fun stuff. Very funny post! Peeing at fairs/concerts is my biggest phobia I think. OMG. I had to pee at this HUGE antique fair thing (Round Top) a few months ago and one stall I walked into had SHIT ON THE FLOOR. I would have to stand in it to pee. The next line of porta-potties I went to was 4 people deep so I was doing the pee dance waiting for one to open. There were cigarette butts floating IN the piss filled urinal. What the what? NASTY. I lost a little of my soul that day.

  4. Only you could start with the word “shenis” and end by thanking your ancestors, and that is exactly why you are so much fun to read.

    Also, being found where I shouldn’t be is one of my top freak-out-inducing situations. Makes me feel like a five-year-old with her hand in the cookie jar! Although part of me wishes (even though I probably wouldn’t be this bold) that you had peed and flounced right out of there, eyeballing them all like, “AND what?”

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