Some guys are so nasty

As I sidled up to Urinal #1 in the men's room yesterday, I was able to overlook the pile of pubes on the edge that builds up over the course of the day, but what really grossed me out was the puddle on the floor. I thought maybe someone spilled some water or his shoes were wet, but today as I waltzed up to - and subsequently past - Urinal #1, I noticed the same puddle. Ewww.

Whizzing in a toilet has it's challenges, I'll admit. You have the obvious crooked stream that needs adjustment from the getgo. Then you have the occasional spray pattern difficulties, variations in temperature (pool and wind related), time of day and so on. Even hitting the water will splash some, but hitting a urinal is second in ease only to peeing directly on the ground, with peeing on a tree at #3. Anyone who's ever tried to pee on the ground - male or female - knows how easy this is, and even #3 doesn't even offer much of a challenge. So when I see that presumably more than one guy has somehow missed the urinal, I have cause for concern. Really, I'm not claiming to be John Holmes, how small do you have to be to not be able to reach the rim of the urinal. It even extends outwards to catch the "shake drops". If you can't hit that, you may want to have your chromosomes checked, ma'am.

Next on my list isn't so much gross as it is funny. We were discussing professional eaters, and it came up that one guy at 135 wings at Hooters during a training session. Of course he had to pull over on his way home to boot them up, but this got me thinking. To expand your stomach from something the size of a fist to something that can accomodate 135 chicken wings, it would have to be pretty damn close to paper thin. The convulsions that allow you to vomit must be dangerously close to tearing that thin membrane. We took it from there...

Imagine someone attempting to boot up 135 wings, and after the preliminary hoarks he realizes that nothings coming up. It turns out that his stomach has torn open and the wings have spilled into his abdomen. He decides to work the wings (using his hands as a squeegy) up his side to his chin, where he proceeds to pop the 135-chicken-wing-zit all over the mirror. Puh-ritty nasty.

So there you have it folks. Guys are nasty. But only some... I didn't pee all over the men's room floor, but I did help take a simple professional eating conversation to the next level.

I'll leave you with those tidbits of conversational jewelry.

Over and out,
Old Coot