glamour piddles and asparagus dilemmas

In the tinsel-fabulous glitter-glorious world that is The Theatre, behind the scenes toilet-politics can be unexpected.
I have worked in a (festival only) theatre that doesn't have audience loos and ticket-toting members of the public get sent across the street to the odiferous public facilities of a small park. A rough deal, if you ask me. If there are preganant ladies in the audience, they get a special dispensation to wee in the backstage loos. Many was the time we had to outshout the weeing and flushing noises of desperate audience members. Not to mention the... unpleasant... smells that had a nasty habit of wafting into the wings of an over-heated summertime festival theatre!

It's obviously pay back time now: for the first time in my career, I am working in a theatre that has no backstage toilets for perfomers to do those nervous mini-pees that occur at 6 minute intervals during performances.
The Play takes 2.5 hours and we have nowhere to go! So... we have become proficient sink-pee-ers.
However, I still cannot believe that I have to piddle in a handbasin. My CAT does that when his cystitis flares up and he suspects his kitty-litter to be the cause of it. Call me childish, but I am going through a pee-pee fascination phase. (My main fascination being with how this could possibly be the price I have to pay for such a great role) Hovering over a handbasin, feeling oh so naughty and wild and rebellious I can't get over the absurdity of it all and how much I resemble my cat. Although my cat has better aim.

I am worried about tonight though. I ate asparagus today. I know that might cost me my dressing-room pal's friendship.