If peeing in your pants makes you cool, I’m Miles Davis
Yesterday, I had my first real meeting about the start of my new job. I got to sit down with my boss and review my role with the organization and share some of my thoughts and ideas. I met with other “higher ups” and signed some papers, and got the passwords for the systems I’ll be working with. This is my first “real” job since leaving the world of stand-up and the nightlife of waiting tables, and these meetings have made me feel like a true professional. I guess you could say that I felt like a Big Boy!
So, after my meetings I had a few loose ends to deal with regarding my old apartment and had to take some stuff over to my mom’s place. It was only a 15 min car ride but the two beers I had at lunch were beginning to burn and I was starting to do the pee-pee dance in my sweet-ass 1994 Lincoln Towncar. I pulled into my mom’s neighborhood and hotfooted it to her front door. I was fumbling with the keys trying to get inside and I knew that going to the bathroom was going to be a photo finish. You know when you have to pee so bad that you start unzipping your pants when you’re still outside? That’s the level of intense bladder pressure that I was suffering from. I had my pants undone and was making a swift move for my underwear when I entered the bathroom. As I approached the porcelain throne, I put my thumb on the elastic of my boxers and pulled them down and then I released the valve and unleashed a golden torrent of relief.
And that’s when it all went wrong.
In my rush to satisfy my bladder I did not make a solid connection with my thumb to the elastic on my underwear. And that’s when IT slipped. The elastic jumped over my thumb, snapping my manhood back into my underwear mid-stream. Yep. I was now peeing in my pants.
The level of disappointment you feel when peeing your pants is substantial. I’ve never peed myself while sober before, but it is indeed a VERY sobering experience. An hour before I was Mr. Big Shot and now I was soaking myself in urine and shame. And you can’t stop once you start, because it stings. So, I quickly started grabbing at my underwear to unleash my still peeing penis. I finished what little business I had left, stood there in my shame and killed myself laughing. I then removed my pants and underwear, tossed them in the dryer and stood half-naked waiting on the evidence to dry. And there is where I added insult to injury.
My pants and boxers come out of the dryer and put them on. I dropped my belt as I was putting on my pants. With my pants still undone and loosely hanging off my waistline, I bent over to pick up my belt, and that’s when my fat ass ripped the crotch out of my pants. “Are you f*ckin’ kidding me”, I yelled/laughed. Then, I put my hot, ripped, smelly urine pants back on and unloaded my car. Do you know how hard it is to unload a car without exposing your backside? I had to walk in circles the whole time like some sort of weirdo with two left shoes on to avoid showing my backside.
Anyways, the moral of this story is that no matter how big and important you think you are, in the blink of an eye you’re just a kid pissing his pants. Don’t get too excited about grown-up successes!