Yesterday I peed in a building with trillions of dollars worth of objects in it. I pointed this out to my mother after we left the Ladies Room because I thought she would find it amusing. It was like when I studied in London for two weeks in college, and my London roommate and I liked to count the number of castles we had peed in. I think I have a complex where I like to mark my territory, but only on expensive things. When I got my first full-time job, so far my only full-time job, I immediately went to an art gallery to buy my first major piece of artwork. She cost me about $1900 with tax, more than I make in a month, and I keep her in my childhood bedroom at my parent's house, where I am staying. Because I have no money, but I have a $1900 piece of art.
This piece of art, which I call Natalie because at first the woman depicted looks like Natalie Portman, hangs in the same room whose door is still guarded by a poster of Jacob from Twilight. I took my old Nick Jonas poster down before he grabbed his crotch for a photoshoot.
Anyway, I'm side-tracked. I like to mark my name, or bodily functions, on expensive things. Only I can now see the Natalie Portman piece of art, and while at the Art Institute of Chicago yesterday, I peed twice. The first time I didn't even really need to go, but I went because I was so allured by all the Greek and Roman statues they had. So priceless, yet so broken. The only other person I have seen who was missing a nose was He Who Should Not Be Named, and he was clearly so shamed by it that he became an evil wizard dictator.
I knew I would pee in this building when we pulled into Chicago after a 3-4 hour bus drive. Porta Potties lined the streets. This was the first sight I saw of the greatest city near my house. The other bus riders assumed this was due to an outdoor concert the next day, but to me, it was a sign. I would pee all over this city. I had too. It was already filtered with Porta Potties anyway! Mom and I got off the bus, dropped off at Macy's, and walked to the museum. The streets even smelled either faintly or strongly of urine, depending on which street it was.
This city reminded me of London, except London didn't actually smell like pee. While I was in London though, there was a musical going on called Urinetown, I didn't get the chance to see it, but I imagine now that it was about Chicago.
It's funny that I like peeing in expensive places, but I shouldn't be surprised by how territorial my pee can be. In Kindergarten, there was a bathroom directly in our classroom just for the sticky Kindergarteners. One day, I sat on the big toilet, but I was always such a little child, that I at first sat tilted to steady myself.
That was when I began to pee. I was amazed by how far my pee arched, and how it landed gracefully on the floor by the far wall. I didn't even think of tilting my vagina the correct way, because I didn't know girls could even aim. I thought that was a boy thing, so I just sat there, tilted, until I stopped peeing. Then I got up, washed my hands, and left the bathroom.
At the time, I thought it was ironic that a boy student should find my pee puddle. That day at Kindergarten, we were scheduled to eat popcorn and watch a movie, but the teacher said no one would eat popcorn or watch the film until someone confessed. I tried to call her bluff, but I saw that it was not working, so I raised my hand and called the teacher over.
I had been too embarrassed to raise my hand right away about the pee, but I remember being vaguely proud, whispering my deed into my teacher's ear. I was sure that she hadn't suspected a girl of this act, and that made me happy. I had surprised an adult, and done a boy thing. I had an eventful day, with popcorn and a movie to top it off.