Apparently we exceeded our lifetime flush capacity and blew out the inner workings of our toilet tonight, so I’m desperately trying to reconstruct it from scavenged parts. (At this point, I was going to suggest that I was in the process of using said toilet, while heroically trying to fix it at the same time, like Lindbergh, when he was making repairs to the Spirit of St. Louis, while in flight across the Atlantic, but then it occurred to me that a family member might read what I’d written and worry about my safety.) Anyway, I’ve got my hands full tonight, so I may not get around to that essay that I’d wanted to write about the historical significance of Davy Jones.
Before I get back to disassembling the intricate mechanisms at work inside my toilet… I’m pretending that it’s a nuclear bomb that I’m diffusing, which makes it a lot more fun… I’d like to extend a big “thank you” to our March sponsor, The Wurst Bar. As I’ve mentioned here before, it’s a really terrific place, and I’d suggest that you all eat there. That goes especially for you EMU folks who like to patronize Jimmy Johns at lunchtime. Do yourself a favor and check out Wurst instead. You don’t have to have beer, if you don’t want one.
Oh, and speaking of bathroom repair, I have it on good authority that The Wurst Bar, at my request, is about to get rid of their trough urinal. What’s more, the bar’s owner, Jesse Kranyak, has offered it to me. I was going to politely decline the offer, seeing as how I have a well-documented issue with peeing next to strangers, but my co-worker here at the site, Andre, thinks that I should accept the offer, drag the urinal into my yard, and construct some kind of open air training facility around it, where men like me, who suffer from the dread psychological malady known as paruresis, could confront their fears head-on, and penis-out… practicing in front of one another (and any strangers happening by at the time) and high-fiving when acts of successful public excretion occur. I think he may be on to something… I’ll keep you posted.
10 Comments
It’s easier than it looks, good luck. Wurst bar was crowded on a wednesday night. Hopefully the other bars in town arent feeling too big a bite.
I think there is unlimited capacity for well run bars in Ypsilanti. I wouldn’t worry.
And, if you do decide to offer Shy Pee coaching, let me know.
If this male urination facility comes to pass, I would like to offer my penile inspection services.
Sincerely,
Dr. Alberto Rodriguez
http://imgur.com/JOuNs
I’m over my urinal trough issues– I think. When I was very young in the late 60’s my Dad took me to a Tigers game, maybe my first one. Anyway I still remember that I had to go very bad and I think my father realized this as he somewhat forcibly jammed me up to the trough between two large men of color, my head height more or less akin to their waist height. My forcible insertion toward the trough of horror jostled one of the gents throwing his aim off, if you will– All I remember is the warm splash of urine over spray on my cheek. Funny that this memory, more than 40 years old, is fairly fresh in my mind yet the details of kissing one of the hottest girls in my high school, are fuzzy at best– Shit. That damn urinal is still an issue.
Let me know if you need help. I have a PHD in toilets.
Who’s laughing about Steve Pierce’s imported Japanese high tech toilet now, smart guy?
Who’s this Andre?
He’s like Prometheus.
To help you solve your problem – the peeing in front of other dudes – here is a bit of advise that has never failed me. Try doing complex multiplication (something like 191 x 23 or 437 x 73) in your head while attempting to pee. Works everytime. Puts pressure on the big brain to perform and takes the pressure off the little brain.
Try it out next time.
Perhaps a more suitable location would be on Karen Maurer’s front lawn, as it sounds as though she has no hang ups when it comes to public urination.