It's Potty Time

I vividly remember potty training. This probably means that I used the "little potty" way too long.

WARNING WARNING WARNING: TMI(TOO MUCH INFORMATION). THIS IS POSSIBLY THE MOST HORRIFYING STORY THAT YOU WILL EVER READ!

Nagymama always told me not to go near the "Big Potty" because she was afraid that I would somehow fall in it and drown. To protect me, she claimed that there was a man hiding in the bowl that would grab my butt and suck me down into the sewer forever. Ironically, I recently discovered that this doesn't happen if you sit on the toilet, just if you sit on a crowded subway.

Anyhow, I was only supposed to use the small plastic potty that was placed on the floor adjacent to the big potty. From that point forward, every time I went to the bathroom alone, I would close the lid of the big potty with Nagymama's back scratcher and cover the lid with miscellaneous shampoo bottles. If I couldn't reach the shampoo bottles, I would pile some of my McDonald’s Happy Meal toys on top of the big potty to weigh it down so the man wouldn't still escape and suck me in while I was "busy" on the little potty. I performed this ritual every single time I went to the bathroom. No wonder I turned out to be so anal retentive.

One day, I tried to sit down on the plastic potty and my butt wouldn't fit. A waive of terror washed over me; I was stuck between a pot and a small place.

I walked over the big potty and precariously lifted the lid. I glanced into the bowl and was surprised to see that there was no man inside. I figured he was still hiding, waiting for my butt. I looked up and spotted a shiny metal handle on top of the toilet. I curiously pulled on it and it made a loud "BAWOOSH!" sound and the bowl started to fill with water. I got so scared that I ran out of the bathroom screaming.

I could hear my mother sigh from her bedroom. “Stephie, quit playing vit dah toilet. You’re vasting vater.”

On that day, I decided that I didn't need to go potty anymore ever again. So I held it. And held it. And held it...

(to be continued)

Photo by István Benedek

PS

In case anyone was wondering why I have been so quiet with the entries, it's been because of life in general.

1.) I have been making a music video about meat (funny as check, but NOT safe for children/work environment).

2.) We are starting fundraising for our next short film, GPS.

3.) We are finding investors and producers for our feature, "Wizard, Rainbow, Unicorn", a tale of three cartoon voice actors that lose their jobs and have to find "normal jobs".

2.) We have been managing the film festival and getting the word out about the new Polychrome/Warner Bros Distrubution Deal (Late deadline is today, Extended WithoutABox Deadline is the 30th)

3.) Last, but certainly not least, Nagymama has been having a little trouble lately, so we've been helping her and try to engineer a wheelchair ramp for her so she can still go outside. She's okay, but it's just not easy to get around everywhere when you are 97 and your wheelchair doesn't fit in your house! I have a new appreciation for ADA accessibility, but I have been talking to some of the architects at Johnsrud & Associates to see what we can do for her.

Benino

I never had a chance to meet my Nagypapa (Grandfather), which is probably why I have such a fascination with crotchety old men. Old men are just so funny with their high socks, ugly plaid pants, randomly dispersed ear and/or nose hair, and their general distaste for the world. It's like no matter how hot some 20-something year old guy is, you know eventually he's going to turn into a withered old angry Yoda-character, shouting at the neighbor's kids for their lack in musical taste... and that's just hilarious.

The king of crotchety little old Italian men, Benino, lives next door to my boyfriend. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, rain or shine, Benino stands outside, judging my boyfriend's lawn. Whenever a weed pops up or the lawn grows to be 0.0001 mm above his own lawn, he says, "Why you no take care of you grass?" He then also walks up and down the sidewalk, peeking into peoples' cars and commenting on how dirty their are and how they could probably use a good "Vax and Vash".

I suppose this is a good thing, so when someone decides to rob the house, Benino will see the whole thing. Sure, he probably won't stop the burglar or even call the cops, but he might criticize the burglar's getaway vehicle and choice in ski masks. "Vhy you vere so mush black, you look like you about to go to you mamma's funeral!" Who knows, maybe then the robber will get depressed and steal the Ben & Jerry's ice cream in the freezer, rather than the 42" Plasma Screen in the living room.

Last week, I went outside to transplant some pretty vines in the infamous garden and try to nurse my dying mint plant back to health. Once I stood up to refill my watering can, Benino spotted me and ran over while shaking his finger in my direction.

"Why you no give you plants a drink?!"

I pointed to the cheap green plastic watering can in my hand. "I'm watering them right now, Benino, what's the problem?"

"Yah, but you forgot yesterday!"

"I don't live here, Benino, take it up with the house full of bachelors."

Benino looked down, grimaced, and started muttering something to himself in Italian. Just then, a woman put her head out of the kitchen window and grimaced out the window. I waived to her awkwardly and she immediately perked up. "HALLO!" she yelled out the window.

Benino didn't even turn around. "Yah.. Dats....mah wife," he said, loosely gesturing behind him. She continued to smile and waive wildly, just like those wavy arm guys you see at the used car lots.

By the time I looked back over at Benino, he was on his hands and knees, ripping out all the vines that I had just planted.

"Ah! Benino! What are you doing?! I'm trying to get them to grow up the railing!"

"You crazy, you be planting weeds in yo garden!"

Nagymama would be so disappointed in my garden; I cultivate all the weeds and kill all the plants. No wonder Benino stands guard over our lawn! He must be afraid that I'm going to pour plant killer all over the grass and water the dandelions. Hmm, you know what, that might not be a bad idea....dandelions are kinda cute and poofy...

Photo by Stephanie Berghaeuser

Ice Cream Dreams

I had a dream about Nagymama last night. My aunt, Nagymama, and I were driving up Stelton Road, which is the main street that bisects my old town in New Jersey. My aunt was driving her white 1989 Volkswagen Rabbit, a leaky clunker with red fabric on the roof interior that always drooped down over our foreheads. Even in my dream, I could even smell the faint aroma of mold combined with the fake lemon-scented tree that always hung from the rear view window.

We were desperately searching for an ice cream shop, but it was 11 pm and everything was closed. Nagymama was complaining that she was hungry and my aunt really needed some coffee. We finally stopped at a 7-11 and got Nagymama a couple Twinkies, which she ate voraciously as we sat in the car in the parking lot. My aunt gazed into her black coffee, trying to find the solution to all of our problems at the bottom of her 16-ounce foam cup.

Nagymama threw the wrapper out of the car door and layed down on the back seat as my aunt started to pull away from the curb. All of a sudden, Nagymama's hair started blowing around wildly because she had forgotten to close the door all the way. My aunt immediately pulled over and walked around the car to close the door, but she accidentally hit Nagymama in the head. Nagymama yelped in pain, my aunt apologized profusely, and I just watched from a distance. Nagymama threw up her arms and said, "Why do you always torture me?"

We calmed her down, and Nagymama complained that she was cold, so I wrapped her up in my big fuzzy red blanket. She kept on calling for me and complaining that she was still cold then, so I curled up by her feet and told her it was okay and that she'd be safe. As she closed her eyes, she reminded me to make sure that the front gate was locked. And then I woke up.

I jumped out of bed and called Anyu, just to check on everything. She picked up the phone in a panic when she heard my voice on the answering machine.

"Vhat, vhat happened, who died?" she said, half asleep.

"Hey," I said, "I'm sorry to wake you, but I just had a weird dream, about grandma, and I wanted to make sure she was okay."

"Don't vorry, you didn't vake me, I had veird dreams all night, I've been feeling anxious like something bad is going to happen. I just actually voke up 10 minutes ago because Nagymama was calling for you and she said she was cold, so I covered her with a blanket. You know, Stephie, I can't get her to eat these days. All she ever vants to eat is ice cream. And maybe dose Twinkie tings."

I can't quite shake this eerie feeling, so I'm just going to cross my fingers and hope that it passes.
Photo by Sanja Genero