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5:52 a.m. - 2005-12-01

HOW MEN URINATE (PART ONE)

1) Enter the restroom, locate the toilet and approach it. It sometimes helps to be whistling a merry tune while doing so.

2) Face the wall behind the toilet (this is important).

3) Unzip the trousers/pants/shorts.

4) Here comes the difficult part, depending on the size of the genitalia and choice of underwear. It is time to fish the penis out of the underwear AND the trousers. Most underwear comes with an opening at the front. With your hand, maneuver the penis out of the underwear, through the zipper and dangling over the toilet.

5) Some men do not always want to go through the extra effort in pulling the penis through the opening of the underwear. Instead, they use their left thumb to hook the waistband of the underwear, pull it down over the penis and testicles and use the testicles as a sort of paperweight to hold the underwear in place. A "testicleweight" is what it is referred to in doctor's circles.

6) Once the penis has been safely extracted from the underwear and through the zipper and is free from its confines, it is now time to urinate.

That's the part that screwed me over yesterday.

I'm at work, and I've gotta pee.

Really really bad.

I head to the pisser room and complete Steps 1-4 with ease. There could have been a documentary film crew in there with me, filming the entire process and up until then I could have been used in one of those films they show young boys in elementary school titled "How To Urinate (Part One)".

Right around step five, for some strange assed reason, I went with the "testicleweight" method of urinating. Normally I don't travel this route but I had to scratch my nose or some shit and figured I could trust the testicles to pitch in and do some of the work by holding my underwear in place while I peed and scratched my nose. Or some shit.

I begin to pee.

And within seconds I realize that something's wrong.

I have no idea how it happened, but somehow, Enos the Penis tricked me into thinking he had emerged from the khakis I was wearing and was ready to flow into the bowl.

Wrong.

Zee Penis was still inside the pants.

The warm flow of urine in my underwear alerted me to this.

Now then ... in my youth it was no problem to cinch up the butt muscles and stop the flow of urine in a millisecond.

In fact, for a short time in college, I garnered the nickname "Ol' Pissstopper".

But as I've grown older, the old butt muscles just ain't what they used to be.

Maybe I just had to pee really bad.

I dunno.

But as my light tan khakis became dark, hot and wet while I'm scrambling to yank the peter out of the pants, I realized that this was not going to be a good day.

Now ... reaching into your pants through the zipper and frantically trying to grab your penis while it's pissing all over you ... this probably counts as what Dr. Phil would refer to as a "delicate situation".

You have to realize that ... yes, Dopey ... you're going to be pissing all over your hands here.

Finally, I managed to pull out Happy The Dick and let him finish his business in the actual toilet.

I zipped up, flushed, and moved to the mirror.

Where I was greeted by a nine-inch-wide piss spot on the crotch of my pants.

Mortified much??

The good thing about huge piss stains on your khakis at work is that they normally dry out after about four hours.

Your underwear remains damp for the rest of the day, which is no picnic.

You can't really move from your desk without camoflauging the front of your pants. And believe me, there's not too many things a man can do to cover his crotch without attracting a huge amount of attention to it.

Sure, a swiftly tied sweater around the waist that drapes over the crotch and down to the knees can be achieved.

But it's one of the most gawdawful fashion faux pas a guy can attempt.

So I sat at my desk from 11 a.m. until 3 p.m. discretely fanning my crotch with my left hand the entire time.

The lady next to me probably thinks I have Parkinson's Disease as a result of this four-hour fanning.

But hey ... the pants were dry by the time I had to go home.

And from now on ... the testicles are prohibited from ever being in charge of underwear duty.

Bastards.

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