In my years of experience with urinals, I have found them downright impossible to miss. Even when raving drunk, the golden arc has been fired no more than a few inches off center. It’s simple. You stand with your feet shoulder width apart right smack in front of one and let fly. It’s foolproof. Or is it?
Apparently not.
Judging from the swamp-like appearance of the average male toilet, you’d think we were trying to pee into teacups. Puddles here and puddles there, some joining forces to become super-puddles which are awfully slippery and stink to the heavens. So, after sloshing through the muck and being forced to pee on tiptoe, the obvious question comes to mind - how on earth do they do it?
A scene from Me, Myself and Irene comes to mind. “Myself” has just spent the night screwing around with Irene, leaving “Me” to wake up in the morning, stand in front of the toilet bowl, and pee straight into a picture frame on the right wall.
Hmmm… the possibilities present themselves. Perhaps the lawyers next door aren’t just busy practicing law. Perhaps the folks at EFI across the corridor are really EFI-ing around.
But despite the government’s repeated calls for more sex, surely there are some non-conformists who remain staunchly celibate purely on anti-PAP grounds. What could cheese our beloved leaders off more than a well-coordinated refusal to exchange bodily fluids? Already we can hear Dr Chee’s impassioned cries. “We aren’t prostitutes!” or “Money ≠ Sex!”. And, to show his commitment, he gives his wife the cold shoulder. No hunger strike needed, no futile Queen’s Counsel, no damages to be paid.
But I digress. The question in point now is - how do the rest of them miss?
Alas, one can only speculate. Perhaps the relief of one’s bladder is such cause for celebration that they are compelled to perform a jig while performing the act. Perhaps when one of the missers steps up to the urinal, the laws of physics discreetly look away. Perhaps they were simply re-enacting a scene from Anaconda. I cannot say.
But right now there is no time for further analysis because, if you’ll excuse me, I need to wash my shoes.
Apparently not.
Judging from the swamp-like appearance of the average male toilet, you’d think we were trying to pee into teacups. Puddles here and puddles there, some joining forces to become super-puddles which are awfully slippery and stink to the heavens. So, after sloshing through the muck and being forced to pee on tiptoe, the obvious question comes to mind - how on earth do they do it?
A scene from Me, Myself and Irene comes to mind. “Myself” has just spent the night screwing around with Irene, leaving “Me” to wake up in the morning, stand in front of the toilet bowl, and pee straight into a picture frame on the right wall.
Hmmm… the possibilities present themselves. Perhaps the lawyers next door aren’t just busy practicing law. Perhaps the folks at EFI across the corridor are really EFI-ing around.
But despite the government’s repeated calls for more sex, surely there are some non-conformists who remain staunchly celibate purely on anti-PAP grounds. What could cheese our beloved leaders off more than a well-coordinated refusal to exchange bodily fluids? Already we can hear Dr Chee’s impassioned cries. “We aren’t prostitutes!” or “Money ≠ Sex!”. And, to show his commitment, he gives his wife the cold shoulder. No hunger strike needed, no futile Queen’s Counsel, no damages to be paid.
But I digress. The question in point now is - how do the rest of them miss?
Alas, one can only speculate. Perhaps the relief of one’s bladder is such cause for celebration that they are compelled to perform a jig while performing the act. Perhaps when one of the missers steps up to the urinal, the laws of physics discreetly look away. Perhaps they were simply re-enacting a scene from Anaconda. I cannot say.
But right now there is no time for further analysis because, if you’ll excuse me, I need to wash my shoes.
1 Comments:
ah.. the questions that plagued me throughout my university days. Taking pholosophy in search of its answer didn't help. Like I always say, the only way we'll ever know is to install a hidden cam near the yoo-ri-nal
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