washing bedspread thread made me think of pillows

[4cats4me]

During our August cruise on the Grand, I needed to check the pillow to make sure it was down alternative as opposed to down, and it took me forever to get to the pillow itself due to the three pillow cases on it. The actual pillow itself looked yuck, but the triple pillowcases assuaged any concerns I might have otherwise had. ;)

Edited November 10, 2014 by 4cats4me

[mysaddlebred000]

Where, OMG, SHE'S SITTING ON THE CUSHION!!!! So better not book the Sanctuary, either. In fact, think of all those chairs all over the ship -- other people's behinds have been on them, too!!!!!

 

 

Big difference between a pillow where your face and mouth are on than a chair or lounge chair

[shredie]

Where, OMG, SHE'S SITTING ON THE CUSHION!!!! So better not book the Sanctuary, either. In fact, think of all those chairs all over the ship -- other people's behinds have been on them, too!!!!!

 

I have sat on a chair right next to said person, and when she got up, nary a cootie flew by. :p People sit on stuff. Since most of them are wearing clothes at the time, it's maybe safe to say they don't get icky stuff all over everything. Speaking of icky stuff, I wonder how many cruise ship pillows get fouled with vomit during a noro outbreak. I wonder how many times those same pillows get more than a new pillowcase afterword. What about those nude charters?:eek: The moral here is never leave home and never put your head on anything.

[BlessedAZWife]

As hubby and I travel quite a bit, and often with just carry on's, bringing our own pillows is not feasible. Therefore, I always have a trial size can of Lysol in my toiletries bag, and I spray pillows (copiously!!!), sheets, knobs, remote, switch plates, toilet seat and flush handle, shower head and knobs, balcony door handle, and anything else I can. As for the balcony furniture being uncomfortable, we don't spend so much time out there that it is that huge a concern. We get a balcony, as hubby loves watching the water while I am finishing getting ready. Also, I have noticed that many hotels and ships, now simply use a small strip across the bottom of the bed in stead of a bedspread, which is immediately removed upon entering any room.

[ar1950]

Big difference between a pillow where your face and mouth are on than a chair or lounge chair

 

Yeah, I'm pretty unlikely to stick my face in the middle of the lounger. :eek: I probably don't care much about where my butt ends up as long as I have pants on and the spot I put it in looks clean. :cool:

[Gallivanting Souls]

Bring your own pillow= possibility of bringing home bed bugs.

No thanks! I guess some folks live in a bubble and don't realize that if you kill off all the good germs, you will be sick all the time. Think about it.

Just my 2 cents. I work in health care. You won't find me carrying pillows cross the world or even containers of wipes. If I see something needs cleaning or the pillow case changed, get it changed. I'm not going to loose any sleep over it.

Wash you hands and move on...

[marazad16]

This is one of the funniest threads ever! Now it's moved onto bed bugs it runs the gamut. It got better with each post. :D

[compozer]

If you think this thread is funny, you have to read this story - it's on the same subject - hope it makes your day.

 

DON'T FART DURING A MRI - by Elaine Ambrose

 

I share this true but pathetic story to commiserate with other tortured souls who relentlessly endure and survive extreme humiliation. We're a group of accident-prone fools who regularly trigger embarrassing situations that would permanently traumatize a normal person. My experience this week will be difficult to surpass: I farted inside an MRI machine.

In medical terms, I had torn the meniscus cartilage that acts as a shock absorber between my shinbone and thighbone. In middle-age woman terms, two demons from hell invaded my body and lit fires in my knee and then danced around poking the raw nerves with electric forks. The pain was beyond intense, and the accident severely damaged my body so I couldn't stand, walk, or even crawl to the wine bar.

Five drug-induced days later, I finally saw an orthopedic surgeon. He manipulated my knee until tears streamed down my cheeks and I threatened to tear off his arms. It should have been obvious that I was injured by the way I was ripping off chunks from the sides of the examination table. I silently vowed to add him as a nasty character in my next short story. Finally, some lovely angel gave me legal narcotics. Soon my ravaged leg was a big, bandaged joke, and I laughed and laughed.

A few days later I experienced the MRI - a magnetic resonance imaging procedure that uses a magnetic field and pulses of radio waves to make images of damaged ligaments and joints. A handsome young technician helped me into the tube of terror and strapped down my leg. I nervously remarked that a first name usually was required before I allowed anyone to tie me in a bed. He didn't laugh but ordered me to hold still for 45 minutes. So there I was, in pain, suffering from claustrophobia, moving on a conveyor belt into the white torture chamber, and I didn't have a clue how to remain motionless. And, to complete the distress, my only audience wasn't amused by my jokes.

After about 20 minutes, I started to get anxious. I was tied down in a tunnel and could only hear strange beeping noises and grinding sounds. For all I knew, they were deciding which body parts to extract and sell on the black market. Then a queasy feeling predicted a pending passing of gas. I bit my tongue, pinched my side, and tried to focus on a pastoral scene in a green meadow beside a babbling brook. I could hear my mother's advice: "Squeeze the dime." I fidgeted.

"Please hold still," came a voice from outside the shaft of shame.

I watched as the lights and numbers revealed how much time remained. Three minutes. I could do it! No! My body betrayed me at the one-minute mark. I was trapped and helpless so my nervous body did what it does best: it farted. I released gas with the intensity and conviction of a team of sumo wrestlers after a chili-eating contest. And the confined space caused the sound to be amplified as if a dozen foghorns had simultaneously activated. I didn't know whether to cry, giggle, or call my son and brag.

"Well now, I think we have enough images," the handsome technician said, suppressing a laugh.

The magic bed moved backwards into freedom, bringing along the putrid stench of decay. I was mortified as my imaginary meadow became a ravaged pasture full of rotting manure. What in the hell had I eaten? I avoided eye contact with the timid technician and hobbled back to the dressing room. Once again, I accepted my fate of being the perpetual, reluctant clown, the oddball, the one who farts during a complicated medical procedure.

If I ever need another MRI, I'll request a facility in Texas. Everyone farts there.

[Bimmer09]

Thanks for posting the above. Great piece of writing.

 

Norris

[Pia1913]

I am sitting here with tears running down my face. I haven't laughed this much in quite some time. I'd sure like to meet Elaine Ambrose.

[compozer]

I agree Pia, would love to meet her. Here is what I found about her:

 

 

Elaine Ambrose

Author, syndicated blogger, featured humor speaker, publisher, and retreat organizer knows that laughter - with wine - is the best medicine.

 

She has written several books. I am hoping to get one for my upcoming cruise. Although if the book is as funny as this piece, I could get myself into trouble on the plane by disturbing others around me with my constant laughing.

[Pia1913]

I agree Pia, would love to meet her. Here is what I found about her:

 

 

Elaine Ambrose

Author, syndicated blogger, featured humor speaker, publisher, and retreat organizer knows that laughter - with wine - is the best medicine.

 

She has written several books. I am hoping to get one for my upcoming cruise. Although if the book is as funny as this piece, I could get myself into trouble on the plane by disturbing others around me with my constant laughing.

 

Read this one:

 

http://elaineambrose.com/blog/dont-lose-the-body-eight-tips-to-plot-a-funeral/

 

I'm going right to Amazon now and see what they offer.

[4cats4me]

If you think this thread is funny, you have to read this story - it's on the same subject - hope it makes your day.

 

DON'T FART DURING A MRI - by Elaine Ambrose

 

I share this true but pathetic story to commiserate with other tortured souls who relentlessly endure and survive extreme humiliation. We're a group of accident-prone fools who regularly trigger embarrassing situations that would permanently traumatize a normal person. My experience this week will be difficult to surpass: I farted inside an MRI machine.

In medical terms, I had torn the meniscus cartilage that acts as a shock absorber between my shinbone and thighbone. In middle-age woman terms, two demons from hell invaded my body and lit fires in my knee and then danced around poking the raw nerves with electric forks. The pain was beyond intense, and the accident severely damaged my body so I couldn't stand, walk, or even crawl to the wine bar.

Five drug-induced days later, I finally saw an orthopedic surgeon. He manipulated my knee until tears streamed down my cheeks and I threatened to tear off his arms. It should have been obvious that I was injured by the way I was ripping off chunks from the sides of the examination table. I silently vowed to add him as a nasty character in my next short story. Finally, some lovely angel gave me legal narcotics. Soon my ravaged leg was a big, bandaged joke, and I laughed and laughed.

A few days later I experienced the MRI - a magnetic resonance imaging procedure that uses a magnetic field and pulses of radio waves to make images of damaged ligaments and joints. A handsome young technician helped me into the tube of terror and strapped down my leg. I nervously remarked that a first name usually was required before I allowed anyone to tie me in a bed. He didn't laugh but ordered me to hold still for 45 minutes. So there I was, in pain, suffering from claustrophobia, moving on a conveyor belt into the white torture chamber, and I didn't have a clue how to remain motionless. And, to complete the distress, my only audience wasn't amused by my jokes.

After about 20 minutes, I started to get anxious. I was tied down in a tunnel and could only hear strange beeping noises and grinding sounds. For all I knew, they were deciding which body parts to extract and sell on the black market. Then a queasy feeling predicted a pending passing of gas. I bit my tongue, pinched my side, and tried to focus on a pastoral scene in a green meadow beside a babbling brook. I could hear my mother's advice: "Squeeze the dime." I fidgeted.

"Please hold still," came a voice from outside the shaft of shame.

I watched as the lights and numbers revealed how much time remained. Three minutes. I could do it! No! My body betrayed me at the one-minute mark. I was trapped and helpless so my nervous body did what it does best: it farted. I released gas with the intensity and conviction of a team of sumo wrestlers after a chili-eating contest. And the confined space caused the sound to be amplified as if a dozen foghorns had simultaneously activated. I didn't know whether to cry, giggle, or call my son and brag.

"Well now, I think we have enough images," the handsome technician said, suppressing a laugh.

The magic bed moved backwards into freedom, bringing along the putrid stench of decay. I was mortified as my imaginary meadow became a ravaged pasture full of rotting manure. What in the hell had I eaten? I avoided eye contact with the timid technician and hobbled back to the dressing room. Once again, I accepted my fate of being the perpetual, reluctant clown, the oddball, the one who farts during a complicated medical procedure.

If I ever need another MRI, I'll request a facility in Texas. Everyone farts there.

 

 

Quite possibly one of the funniest pieces I've ever read :D

Just the medicine I needed.

[Pierlesscruisers]

I tried to quote what you wrote, but it kept hanging up my machine and all I could get was a constant laugh coming out of the speakers! Never could get the computer to stop laughing long enough to save and record what you wrote!

 

Luckily, I don't have an MRI scheduled anytime coming up or I'd probably be in BIG trouble.

 

Thanks for posting that, it's hilarious.

 

Tom

[ar1950]

Funny stuff for sure. Now, try having a CT scan with contrast. They tell you what it will feel like when you get the contrast injection, but, it will always make you worried about what your underwear is going to look like when the scan is finished.........:eek:

Edited November 10, 2014 by ar1950

[compozer]

Pierlesscruisers,
Are you sure your real name isn't Elaine Ambrose? You write some funny stuff!!!! What a talent you have.

ar1950,
I forgot that about the CTscan. I have to have once a year to check for my lymphoma. I remember when I had the first one and the entire time I thought, "oh dear, no one told me to bring extra underpants". I did better after that but still wonder when you get that warm feeling and are positive something happened.
Oh, if I only could tell Elaine the experience I have had, I bet she could write a funny story

"I almost pis___ my pants during my CTscan".