My stepfather's stepfather died last week. It was dumb that I even had to go to the funeral since I never met the guy, but my stepfather is paying my college tuition and the rent for my apartment, so I had to go. My mom reimbursed me for a plane ticket for me, but at the last minute, I got a ride share through a friend at school and decided to cash in the first-class ticket ($883 free and clear in my pocket). Then I went out drinking the night before. When my ride picked me up, I was feeling like death. I decided to start drinking water so that I would be hydrated by the time we got there. I drank several bottles of water during the first 2/3 of the 15 hour trip and my ride was pretty good about stopping to let me pee because he wanted to smoke anyway. However, we took a wrong turn which meant that we were running late to get to the airport where my parents were picking me up (they still thought I was flying in!). So that put an end to the bathroom stops. We got there with minutes to spare and I had a full bladder. My mom took one look at the dress I had picked out to wear to the wake, said it wasn't acceptable and insisted that we hit the mall. My bladder felt the size of a cantelupe as I tried on dress after dress before finding one my mom liked. To my horror, we went straight to the funeral parlor. As we sat there listening to old fogeys talk about my step-step-grandfather, powerful contractions gripped my bladder. Finally I excused myself and looked for the bathroom. There was a long line. I ducked into an empty room at the funeral parlor, found a flower pot, slipped off my panties and pissed in it. Just as the last drops tinkled into the brass pot, I heard my mom's voice. She and my step-grandmother were loooking for something they had accidentlayy left in the room. You guessed it --the cremation urn that would be used to hold my step-step-grandfather's ashes when he would be cremated!