There are three reasons you might have difficulty peeing;
- Your bladder is empty.
- You have stage fright.
- You have any number of horrible and gross medical conditions.
Here are some things to keep in mind as failure to pee can cause other complications of the body, spirit or mental health;
- Just get over yourself and piss on it.
- Run a faucet.
- I’ll make you a mix tape.
If stage fright is the problem you may want to consider a change of venue. Many places on this planet have rooms specific for peeing. These rooms offer some modicum of privacy. Wait, they aren’t exclusive to peeing, these rooms, but they are specifically more conducive to peeing than, say, playing the piano or skeet shooting. In parts of the world that don’t have rooms (e.g. forests, deserts, bodies of water) use common sense if you want privacy. If you don’t want peeing privacy but have stage fright you may want to re-evaluate your relative intelligence.
If peeing related issues are your biggest trouble and they are not related to the third reason (any number of horrible and gross medical conditions) you really should not be allowed to complain. Ever. About Anything. Even a complaint that sounds like an affirmation, e.g., My Cup Runneth over.
In the winter of 1976 I peed in several gas tanks. If I had to guess I’d say 27, I think that’s accurate or at least within five either way. I had a 1973 Mustang fastback. It had a heavy gas cover with a picture of horse running right to left. The entire cap covered the hole that gas was poured in; there was no lid, the running horse either covered the hole or the hole was exposed to the world. Someone stole my cap. In retaliation to a world wherein my gas cap could be stolen without retaliation I stole the gas caps to 27, more or less, mustangs, mavericks and gremlins, all of which had the same sort of cap and the same threads. The gremlin cap had a picture of a gremlin and the maverick had, I think I really don’t remember, a horse running from left to right.
Just stealing seemingly innocent gas caps from strangers (the same strangers that allowed my cap to be stolen, negligence is a crime too) wasn’t enough to assuage my rage. I had to pee in the tanks as well. That takes commitment. For one thing it was winter in Mid Michigan. Most red blooded American males after the age of puberty spend the majority of their time protecting the organ from whence my fount of rage sprang against the elements. Not exclusively, more of a multitasking thing, like, say for instance, you were scuba diving and a shark came at you and you were a red blooded American male past puberty; your first instinct would be to protect your penis, you wouldn’t even stop to think that it was probably going to be a closed casket anyhow.
Where was I? Oh, yes, commitment. Dick freezing. Oh, and some of the later models of those cars took unleaded gas which means a little flap of metal. This was so that the larger nozzle of a leaded gas pump hose wouldn’t fit and you wouldn’t accidentally fill your unleaded tank with leaded. If I have to point out the problem with this you are likely not a red blooded American male past puberty.
Um, you don’t really have to be American or past puberty and if you’re a mammal your blood should be red and if it isn’t you should see a doctor about that. I would not have discriminated against a female compatriot had one wished to join me in that endeavor. I think she’d have had to have been tall. The mind boggles.
Any editorial opinions on this entry may be directed towards my attorney as I’m unsure of the statute of limitations.
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