Pissing into a funnel is not as easy as they make it sound. Not to brag, but I’ve urinated in public places many times in my life and it is far easier than trying to scoop my disgusting snatch into this little purple cone. For the first time in my life I had what is referred to as a “shy bladder,” which momentarily ruined my sense of pride.
Regardless, I found a way to ease my mind into letting me pee. I also refused to take my pants off. You see, peeing out your fly is one of the key attributes of male urination—and of the male gender in general—and something that I have always envied. I’ve pissed on my own clothes so many times in the past that I now have a pretty solid technique when it comes to squatting down and letting my urethra go. My system has been established through much trial and error, and when something as revolutionary as a female urination device is introduced to this system, I need to be able to take the liberty of wearing pants. Otherwise, these technological advances are just playing catch up to the tricks I’ve already taught my vagina.
Great. So here I am pissing beneath the crucifix at the heart of Montreal’s Mount Royal. Why, you ask? Because, as you may have noticed, if you ask any girl who’s worth her weight in tits “What would you do if you were a boy for a day?” she will ALWAYS says, “Pee on _____.” That is what I looked forward to doing most. I have to admit, I see this as a great accomplishment: wearing pants and peeing at the center of a giant crucifix. However, this is still only a small fraction of greatness compared to my dream of being entirely naked and taking a shit at the center of the Vatican.
Anyway, I journeyed on to find a second pissing destination that would really bring out my feverishly repressed internal male ego.
When was the last time you pissed yourself? Oh, when you were eight? When you went camping that time and got scared by the noises outside? Bullshit. Get real, friend; it was last weekend and we all know about it. We also all know you’re going to do it this weekend, too—starting tonight and carrying on in a consistent, free-flowing Amazon river of urine, until your whole mattress is saturated with your own golden nectar. Now that you’re all ashamed, here are some stories about other people who pissed themselves to cheer you up.
Illustrations by Sam Taylor. Follow him on Twitter @sptsam or visit his website atsamtaylorillustrator.com.
THE SEXY SHOWER
I was at this party when I was 16 and ended up in the make out room with a girl. There were a few other couples nestled away in the corners in various states of embrace, but I was blind-drunk so I didn’t really care. I was just fixated on getting some boob. I was also dying to piss, but I thought it might kill the mood if I darted off to take a leak and left her there waiting for me. Anyway, we were kissing and groping for a bit, then she unbuttoned my pants and started sucking me off. That was great, obviously, and I started to really relax.
In retrospect, that was a bad idea, because as I relaxed, my drunkenness took over and I was in that weird middle-ground between the waking world and complete unconsciousness. Seemingly out of nowhere, she put her elbow on my bladder and, in my drunk, blissed-out haze, I start peeing. Everywhere. It felt great for about three seconds, then I snapped back to reality and realized what I was doing. To make it worse, I still had a boner, so the stream was uncontrollable; hitting my face, splashing the girl’s hair, and leaving a mucky, little puddle pooled on my grey jumper. That was one of the worst nights of my life. People have called me Stuart “The Shower” ever since.