You Can't Handle the Truth!

You want answers? You want the truth? Well then here it is. Here are some lies that all men tell. You asked for it. And men, whether directly or by omission, you are guilty, my brothers.

1)I beat Mike Tyson on Mike Tyson’s Punch Out. You lying sack. You didn’t last through the first round, because nobody lasts through the first round.

2) I used to bench 300. Unless you have lifted for quite some time, you have no concept of how much 300lbs actually weighs. I know you look at a little guy like me and say, if he pushed it, I must bench 500lbs. Go to the gym and be humbled, 99.999% of you were never even close.

3) I wasn’t in band in high school. Yes you were. I am the only person that didn’t subject themselves to band. You lugged that tuba for four years, quit denying it.

4) I don’t cheat on my Taxes. Oh ya, what about those internet purchases that you are supposed to claim for state sales tax?

5) I’ve never crapped my pants (as an adult). The average guy breaks wind about 15 times a day. Over 365 days a year, that’s 5,475 bombs a year. One of those bad boys pulled a little liquid from the rim. Besides, why else were you throwing those tidy not-so-whiteys into the dumpster outside the break room? Because they won’t flush, that’s why.

6) I don’t pee in the shower. We all pee in the shower. It saves 2 gal of water and is the “green” thing to do.

7) The condom broke. Your girlfriend didn’t get prego because of a faulty condom. They test those things with two gallons of water. I’m afraid your little “release” didn’t even fill the reservoir tip. You barebacked it, just admit it.

8) I’ve never tried on a women’s underwear. They are silky and sexy and feel wonderful. You had to try it..you know you did.

9) I have never seen porn, it’s gross. Ya, all those hot naked women performing acts we all dream about with lots of other naked hot women just make me sick. Who do you think you are talking to?

10) I’ve never pleasured myself. I have a friend at work that is over 40 and claims never, ever, not even once, ever, even accidently have a misfire. He said, and I quote “I don’t even think I would know how to do it.” Shut your filthy lying mouth. I’ve been set-off by a bumpy car ride…and you have too.

11) I don’t drink and drive. Every one of you SOBs that drink, drink and drive. Designated driver my ass.

12) Honey, your pet ran away. Nope, it died. You just didn’t want to tell the kiddies. You buried it, flushed it, put it in a baggy and stuffed it in the trash, either way..you were an accessory.

13) I’ve never sniffed panties. I have never done this, but I know you have….Sicko.

14) I’ve never tucked my penis back between my legs to see what I would look like as a girl. We all saw Silence of the Lambs and stood in front of a mirror in the days following and pulled the old tuck and roll. If you put on lipstick while doing it, you need to be in a hospital.

15) I’ve never cut up an old pillow case to make it into a makeshift loin cloth and then after everyone left the house tore off all of my clothes, put on the loin cloth, and run around with an invisible hatchet attacking the imaginary villagers. Come on…fess up.

Which Way Wiper?

There are a few private issues that never get much press because most of us don’t even like to admit we do them. I do have a couple of buddies that shy from nothing so this topic arose and I was surprised at what we found. Most of our observations came from our work restroom where foot position and weight distribution on the feet conjured images of what must be happening in the stall next door. We assert that there are only five major ways to wipe after evacuation.

Front to Back: Most common attack although variations include standing, bending, and leaning against the door. I don’t personally feel this is the most effective method because you may have substantial reaching and limited finger control at max reach. This creates a “paper trail” and results in some nasty skid marks. I think this is mainly because the bending forward causes a “pucker” effect disallowing a “deep” clean.

Back to Front: When “Baby got Back” is a fair description of you, then you may be stuck with this method. Because you have limited access due to arm length and cheek girth, you access between the legs and pull forward. This is a danger zone for girls because you don’t want to pull bacteria forward…well, you understand. Advanced finger techniques must be employed involving a middle finger drag, basically pulling forward and away at the same time. I personally feel this is the best way to minimize smearage and keep the cleanest undercarriage. Many disagree, mostly because of the male genitalia to wrist convergence issue. Maybe “bigger boys” have an issue here, I am sad to say, I don’t.

Center Pinch: This is the best method in theory ,gaining the benefits of both of the previous methods. In practice, the thumb is simply too clumsy to be effective….and you can’t pinch anything without a thumb. Also, the small area of paper actually used creates a saturation effect that just won’t doo.

Sawing Lumber: None of us really knows what goes on here, but we have heard many people pull paper from the roll and then go into an ungodly see-saw sound swishing back and forth very vigorously. I’ve never tried this but I think they must be just rubbing and smearing back and forth until they rub most of the residue off, or maybe into the skin. It seems nasty, but we hear the sawing lumber technique several times a week. If you happen to employ this method, feel free to leave a comment explaining your nasty ass.

Pinch it Clean: I hear about this all the time, especially in the case of no TP to be found and they are out of ass-gaskets as well (which can be used in a pinch). No man can actually do this. Extremely hot women on the other hand can, because..let’s be honest, if they do poop….it comes out wrapped in foil.

Damn Cat!

I used to love animals. I was a cat person. My dad, on the other hand, seemed to hate all pets and I had a hard time understanding why. With time, that understanding has come. Here is a little background. When I was just a boy, every night I would find my cat before bedtime, snuggle in with the little fur face and start to drift off to sleep. As a matter of routine, my brother would inevitably come in and take it from me just as we both got comfortable and close to dozing. Regardless of the fact that he knew I was terrified of the dark and that cat was my much needed comfort, he would take it. I would cry and yell..didn’t matter, he had the power so he took the cat. To add insult to injury, the cat was then often much disturbed and would leave his bedroom in about 3 min. but alas, that was the way of things.

Now, that being said, I told myself that when I was in charge and had my own house, I would have my cat and it would sleep with me nightly and my ‘little meowers” would never again be ripped away. Wow, I’ve changed. I now have a home of my own and a cat, and I hate it’s ever loving, filthy guts. I despise it with a guttural, deep seeded loathing. I wish it ill, I wish it death, I wish it pain and let me tell you why.

The kitty is my daughter’s. It is relatively harmless unless you are doing two things, sleeping, or using the bathroom. If you are in the bathroom, it will pound on the door until you let it in. Yes, it pounds on the frickin’ door with both front paws banging it against the frame. You let it in and it wants to drink out of the sink. Not that big of a deal except that at least once a week I come home to a sink that has been running for about 12 hours. Which happens to be about 11 hours and 58 min. after the cat last drank from it. So I give in, leave my throne, turn on the sink for a drink, it takes a couple licks and heads back to the door and pounds to get out. Let it out, and it pounds to get in. Add an annoying mew to that pounding and you are starting to get the picture. Now imagine this every time you use the restroom. Everytime.

Settle into bed at any hour and you start to hear that faint pounding, not at the bathroom door, but the outside door. You get up and let the little bastard in, get back into bed, and then he starts the mewing and pounding to get back out. This occurs at whatever bedtime happens to be and again at 5am……Every DAY! Oh, I hate it, so severely. It is relentless, and what makes it worse is the fact that my wife sleeps soundly and rarely hears it. The torture is mine to bear alone. I love my daughter and wouldn’t want her to feel the loss of a pet at my hands, so I can’t kill it. Likewise, I can’t slug it in the guts, drop it off a cliff, or starve it and leave it for dead in the desert. So I just look it with piercing hate and wish it away. I just hope I am never left alone with it, it may be the ultimate test…..and I’m lookin’ to fail.

Why Can't I Pee?

You think when you get through with those grueling high school days, that the locker room scene is over. I assert that it is not. Every time I sidle up to a urinal in a public rest room, I’m right back in 7^th grade; taking a shower with the fellas and giving the pubes a quick inspect to see if magically a fourth one happened to show up over night. Now, pubes a plenty, and I still can’t pee with a man dangling next to me. Compound this with the fact that I drink about 8 gallons of water a day and frequent the bathroom more than a thirteen year old who just discovered Mr. Tickle, and you have a little problem.

No, I don’t have a prostate problem…I, um… check myself regularly. This is strictly a mental thing. If I am feeling defeated or low, I couldn’t start my stream if I heard someone three blocks away. If I just pushed 300lbs on the bench the night before and I am feeling “cocky”, I can blast away with the best of them. Then, no matter how I am feeling, there are certain people that create an instant stop block and I really don’t know why. ..and if there is no divider between urinals, I won’t even try. How can my Keigel muscle be inexorably tied to my emotions? Scientifically speaking, it’s ludicrous. Nevertheless, it is true.

So I practice, psych myself up, count by nines in my head (you know the same things I do for sex) but sometimes, with some people, it just won’t flow. But here is where I keep the power. If you find yourself cozying up to me in the adjacent urinal and you have the same issue as I, we have a problem. I know that cacophony of silence that roars in your ears minute after minute as you try to wait me out hoping I’ll leave so you can “get going”. Sorry guy, you have a stalemate my friend. I may not be able to pee with you standing there, but I am willing to wait you out for hours, so just zip it up and be on your way..you have no idea who you are dealing with.

Bathroom Madness

It’s 10am and I am sitting in the far stall of the men’s room at work. I’m taking care of a little bit of business when the door of the bathroom flies open. I can’t see who just entered, but then again, I didn’t need to. What I heard from that moment on needs to be addressed in a public forum. He (it was a men’s room) flipped open his cell phone and made a call while walking to a stall. I could hear someone answer and a conversation commenced. To my delight, he entered the stall next to me. While talking, he turned, dropped trough, and sat for his morning constitutional. At that point I literally jumped at the volley of explosions that erupted from him. The cacophony can only be described as the unharmonious union of a bassoon and a tuba dying off into a melee of what sounded like handful after handful of gravel hitting water. Maybe the double guacamole six dollar burger with chili cheese fries from Carl’s Jr. wasn’t the best choice for lunch, but why do I and the phone call recipient have to pay for it. This man was tearing ass! All of this was outrageous in itself, but still this isn’t what put me over the edge. One may enter the bathroom unaware of how venting the billows may sound; it perplexes me continually but seems to correlate to the number of people present, as a side note. What one does have control over is the grunting and verbal utterances preceding the carpet bombing. This freak literally ended words with guttural thrusts. Still the conversation continued. I finished my work quickly and flushed about five times hoping that the person on the other end of the line would simply hang up in disgust. A quick wash and I was out of there…and the man was still talking.

Admittedly this was the worst case I have ever witnessed, but this trend is not uncommon and seems to be getting worse. I hear at least three people a week talking on cell phones in the public restrooms and imagine the numbers greatly increase at home. Stop it. For the love of all things holy, STOP IT!