Damnit, I'm sorry.
Once again, my smartass attempts at humor have slowed a desperate person down in their search for help with an urgent problem.
There you were, shifting from foot to foot, struggling to hold back the tide, while frantically searching the internet for a solution to your hair-trigger bladder (and possibly bowels--but let's not think too long on that possible scenario). You needed help--and fast! And along with the rest of the tangled mess of info you undoubtedly turned up in your search, you also found my silly little blog--which was clearly no help at all. As you soon discovered, I know nothing about adult diapers, except how to use them in a joke now and then. That's bad news for you on two fronts--because not only do you probably not find adult diapers to be funny in the slightest, but if you do, a giggle fit, however small, might just invoke the kind of reaction in your nether regions that you've been trying so valiantly to avoid. In the end, it's you who will be left to clean up the mess, quite literally, and I just want to say I'm sorry. I never intended for such a thing to happen. That's what I get for trying to be cute.
So to make it up to you, I'm going to offer you some advice regarding your problem. Admittedly, I'm no expert, so you can take this advice for what it's worth--which is absolutely nothing at all. That being said, here's the only so-called wisdom I can offer you, oh Person In Need of Adult Diapers:
1) Do not even consider cloth diapers. I know, I know--they're better for the environment, they don't clog up our landfills, blah blah blah. This kind of do-gooder attitude is to be admired and revered--but only when we're talking about tiny little baby butts housed in tiny little baby diapers. Your big-girl or big-boy diapers, when filled, will have far more formidable a presence than those baby diapers you're used to seeing at your cousin's or sister's house. You do not want to have to wash those buggers out, I can assure you. Your environmental concerns will go right out the window the second or third time you find yourself dumping a 2-gallon jug of Shout on your formerly-white, bath-towel sized cloth diaper.
2) Do not eat Mexican food, ever. I know, I know--it's yummy beyond words, particularly if you live here in Texas. Here, you'll find none of that wanna-be Mexican food like they sell in Idaho's and Missouri's so-called Mexican restaurants, and you will surely be tempted to partake of that authentic goodness. But heed my warning: Avoid this urge. For someone like yourself, who apparently lacks the proper constitution for it, it can only end in disaster. Woe unto you (and any unfortunate bystanders) if you ignore this plea.
3) Avoid alcohol. Not only do you not need any extra fluid in your overwrought bladder, but you also do not need the lowered inhibitions that a mind-altering substance can bring about. If you must drink (say, to keep up appearances at a company Christmas party, or perhaps in order to find a particular member of the opposite sex attractive enough to continue chatting with in a seedy bar), then at least do so in moderation, and for the love of God, avoid beer at all costs. May I recommend Jaegermeister? It will dry you up like the Mojave desert, at least until you find yourself ejecting it from your throat while curled into a fetal position on the bathroom tile.
4) Do not, under any circumstances, wear any clothing on the lower half of your body that contains even a small percentage of lycra or spandex. Such clothing is intended for people wearing tiny, or perhaps no, undies...NOT, I repeat, NOT for the wearers of adult diapers. Yes, I know--it's not fair that, on top of the inconveniences your condition already presents, you now also have to carefully scour the racks at your local department store looking for only the roomiest, un-clingy-est clothes, but must I remind you that life is unfair? Just as it's not fair for you to have to have to constantly contend with your wimpy bladder and/or bowels, it's also not fair to make the rest of us visually aware of the potential horror going on down below.
So there you have it, my bathroom-frequenting friend. I hope I've redeemed myself for the thoughtless joke I made previously in my blog concerning adult diapers. You needed help--you deserved help--and finally, I was able to rise to the occasion and provide that help.