Monday, February 8, 2010
For The Gentlemen
For The Gentlemen
Gentlemen, let me start of by getting something out of the way: boobies. There. It’s been said and it’s on the table. Just take a moment and chuckle quietly to yourself. Done? Good. Now, on to business; if you’re like me, then there are times throughout your day when your mind just wanders off without telling you where he's going, much like an A.D.D five year old at six flags. During these carefree romps through the trash filled walkways of an overrated amusement park that are littered with cigarettes and empty dip'n dots cups that is the male consciousness, it happens upon things so wild and unimaginable, that no one besides another man would ever understand or appreciate it.
For instance: "If women are such good fashion designers, and gay men are such good fashion designers, then why aren't lesbians some type of super designer?" Now some people say that the two factors cancel each other out, but I disagree. However, that’s a rabbit I'll chase another day. My main focus in this note is that of the morning pee. The male morning pee is as predictable as the sunrise, as ever present as gravity, and as necessary as a meth lab is to a trailer park (If you live in a trailer park and are offended by the last comment, don't be. It’s there; you just aren't tweaking hard enough to sense it). But it’s not just the morning constitution itself that has me so intrigued, it’s that every two or three months you will take a pee so long, that after you finish, you immediately regret not timing it.
This is one of those rare things that are both reminiscent of why life is worth living, and soul crushingly depressing. "But how could I have known that that was gonna be a urination of Olympic* proportions?" you tearfully ask the shower curtain. But the shower curtain in its stoic passivity doesn't answer. "ANSWER ME!" you scream at the towel rack, but something as wise as the towel rack knows when to hold its tongue.
So, lost in the solemn silence of your bathroom at six in the morning as you cry yourself back to sleep on the mat in front of the toilet, completely oblivious to the fact that yesterday you gravely miscalculated you starting trajectory and totally soaked that mat, you find the answer: pickles. Its' not a very informative or helpful answer, but its' an answer nonetheless. And so, as you uncurl from the fetal position and climb in to the shower, you are consoled by the one thought that your still groggy mind can manage to entertain: "The towel rack saw it, he can back me up."
*a little known fact about the Grecian Olympics is that on top of wrestling and running, other events included the 100 meter pee, the long pee, and curling.