I'm so damn classy it hurts.
April 25th 2007 11:31
At some point on Saturday night, I dropped my phone into a urinal and then proceeded to try and piss it down the drain. Guys, you know when you've been holding in your pee for a long time, and you're standing there at the urinal and you try to push the urinal cake thing down the drain with your powerful urine-stream? Yeah, I did that. If you squint, my phone kind-of looks like a urinal cake.
You see, I was quite intoxicated. Partially on the superhuman amount of alcohol and miscellaneous pharmaceuticals coursing through my system, but mainly on my own sense of awesomnity (yes, that's a word, and I lay claim to it). I was enjoying several beverages with some good friends at the Townie Hotel in Sydney.
I excused myself to go and drain my bladder in the upstairs toilets. Now, when I need to take a leak at home, I will usually pee sitting down, mainly because if I try to do it standing up, I end up pissing all over myself, the walls, the pet dog, pretty much everywhere except in the bowl. Ah, the joys of retiring a large-gauge genital piercing. It's ok though, I'm allowed to sit down while peeing because I have a beard, a hairy chest, no respect for women, I'm constantly drunk, and I quite often talk like a pirate. So sitting down to pee really doesn't compromise my manhood too much. It's pretty much at superhuman levels already.
So anyway, whilst at home I choose to grace the toilet seat with my tattooed buttocks, when I'm out it's a different story. You see, when you're not in your own house, it's ok to pee on things. In fact it's not just ok, it's encouraged. Usually by me. So when I'm out, I find it's best to pee on something vaguely vertical, such as a BMW. Or failing that, the humble urinal. It was the latter of these that I found myself standing proudly in front of on this fateful Saturday evening. Now I needed to pee pretty badly. I'd just finished telling everybody one of the many adventure stories that I haven't posted on here because I'm saving it for my book. It was a long story. My bladder had become pretty damn full. So when the stream started, it was somewhat like a firehose, and almost indescribably satisfying.
For some reason I had my phone out, vaguely fumbling around with it whilst trying to keep my urine-stream pointed in a general forward direction. I can't remember exactly what I was doing with my phone. I was either trying to send a text message, or taking a picture of my weiner to harrass Gab with. Both are likely. It was at this point that time slowed down. Now, this didn't surprise me because around 15 hours prior to this, under the influence of miscellaneous pharmaceuticals, my mind spent a very brief period in the future. So time slowing down for a few seconds was nothing amazing. I did wonder for a moment though, why my brain would choose that particular moment to slow things down.
That was when I spotted my phone slipping out of my fingers, ever so slowly, and tumbling down towards the cold steel floor of the urinal. The second it hit the metal floor, it made a vague clunk, muffled only by the light coating of urine, water, soap, and whatever the hell else was in there. Time returned to normal speed. For some reason instead of frantically grasping for it, I remained calm. The stupid side of my brain must have bashed the smart side of my brain with a crowbar or something, because the first thing that I thought was "Man, I didn't need that phone anyway. Fucking stupid phone. I'm glad it's sitting in the piss-trough. I can afford a new one. Sucks to it."
So I started to pee on it. It didn't move very far because my urine-stream was beginning to subside by this point, but I managed to move it a little. When I was done, feeling very satisfied with myself, I zipped up my fly and headed back to the table to join my friends. I got aboot three mouthfuls of beer before the smart side of my brain regained consciousness (better late than never, I suppose). I had a brief wide-eyed "oh, shit, that thing's got all my phone-numbers on it!" moment and ran straight back into the toilets. Thankfully, it appeared that nobody else had been in there in those fateful few minutes, and my phone was sitting there exactly where I left it. Covered in my urine.
I think you can guess what happened next. If you guessed urinal-diving, you're a winner. To my credit, I did wrap my hands in toilet paper first, although I'm not entirely sure that helped. I took my phone apart in the sink and thoroughly rinsed and scrubbed it, taking precisely zero care to save the electronics. I was mainly concerned with not losing the sim-card which contained all my important phone numbers, without which I would be pretty much stranded. After scrubbing like crasy and almost gagging several times after realizing exactly how disgusting I am, I put the pieces of my phone back together.
Miraculously, it switched on! All the buttons down the right-hand side of the keypad didn't work, but that didn't matter. I could still scroll through numbers, which was the most important part. Dried the thing down, and put it back in my pocket. Feeling quite proud of myself, I headed straight back to the table and continued drinking. I kept that little adventure to myself though because it was quite embarrassing. And after all, I was having a good time and didn't want people to think I'm more disgusting than they already do. I apologize to anybody whose hand I shook that night. I washed it, I swear!
I will post one more Sydney anecdote in the next week or so. I was there all weekend, and spent Sunday afternoon smoking cigars lit with $20 bills. American $20 bills. No shit, I actually went to a currency exchange after I realized Australian money doesn't burn that well at all. I had my heart set on it, dammit!
Stay tuned...
You see, I was quite intoxicated. Partially on the superhuman amount of alcohol and miscellaneous pharmaceuticals coursing through my system, but mainly on my own sense of awesomnity (yes, that's a word, and I lay claim to it). I was enjoying several beverages with some good friends at the Townie Hotel in Sydney.
I excused myself to go and drain my bladder in the upstairs toilets. Now, when I need to take a leak at home, I will usually pee sitting down, mainly because if I try to do it standing up, I end up pissing all over myself, the walls, the pet dog, pretty much everywhere except in the bowl. Ah, the joys of retiring a large-gauge genital piercing. It's ok though, I'm allowed to sit down while peeing because I have a beard, a hairy chest, no respect for women, I'm constantly drunk, and I quite often talk like a pirate. So sitting down to pee really doesn't compromise my manhood too much. It's pretty much at superhuman levels already.
So anyway, whilst at home I choose to grace the toilet seat with my tattooed buttocks, when I'm out it's a different story. You see, when you're not in your own house, it's ok to pee on things. In fact it's not just ok, it's encouraged. Usually by me. So when I'm out, I find it's best to pee on something vaguely vertical, such as a BMW. Or failing that, the humble urinal. It was the latter of these that I found myself standing proudly in front of on this fateful Saturday evening. Now I needed to pee pretty badly. I'd just finished telling everybody one of the many adventure stories that I haven't posted on here because I'm saving it for my book. It was a long story. My bladder had become pretty damn full. So when the stream started, it was somewhat like a firehose, and almost indescribably satisfying.
For some reason I had my phone out, vaguely fumbling around with it whilst trying to keep my urine-stream pointed in a general forward direction. I can't remember exactly what I was doing with my phone. I was either trying to send a text message, or taking a picture of my weiner to harrass Gab with. Both are likely. It was at this point that time slowed down. Now, this didn't surprise me because around 15 hours prior to this, under the influence of miscellaneous pharmaceuticals, my mind spent a very brief period in the future. So time slowing down for a few seconds was nothing amazing. I did wonder for a moment though, why my brain would choose that particular moment to slow things down.
That was when I spotted my phone slipping out of my fingers, ever so slowly, and tumbling down towards the cold steel floor of the urinal. The second it hit the metal floor, it made a vague clunk, muffled only by the light coating of urine, water, soap, and whatever the hell else was in there. Time returned to normal speed. For some reason instead of frantically grasping for it, I remained calm. The stupid side of my brain must have bashed the smart side of my brain with a crowbar or something, because the first thing that I thought was "Man, I didn't need that phone anyway. Fucking stupid phone. I'm glad it's sitting in the piss-trough. I can afford a new one. Sucks to it."
So I started to pee on it. It didn't move very far because my urine-stream was beginning to subside by this point, but I managed to move it a little. When I was done, feeling very satisfied with myself, I zipped up my fly and headed back to the table to join my friends. I got aboot three mouthfuls of beer before the smart side of my brain regained consciousness (better late than never, I suppose). I had a brief wide-eyed "oh, shit, that thing's got all my phone-numbers on it!" moment and ran straight back into the toilets. Thankfully, it appeared that nobody else had been in there in those fateful few minutes, and my phone was sitting there exactly where I left it. Covered in my urine.
I think you can guess what happened next. If you guessed urinal-diving, you're a winner. To my credit, I did wrap my hands in toilet paper first, although I'm not entirely sure that helped. I took my phone apart in the sink and thoroughly rinsed and scrubbed it, taking precisely zero care to save the electronics. I was mainly concerned with not losing the sim-card which contained all my important phone numbers, without which I would be pretty much stranded. After scrubbing like crasy and almost gagging several times after realizing exactly how disgusting I am, I put the pieces of my phone back together.
Miraculously, it switched on! All the buttons down the right-hand side of the keypad didn't work, but that didn't matter. I could still scroll through numbers, which was the most important part. Dried the thing down, and put it back in my pocket. Feeling quite proud of myself, I headed straight back to the table and continued drinking. I kept that little adventure to myself though because it was quite embarrassing. And after all, I was having a good time and didn't want people to think I'm more disgusting than they already do. I apologize to anybody whose hand I shook that night. I washed it, I swear!
I will post one more Sydney anecdote in the next week or so. I was there all weekend, and spent Sunday afternoon smoking cigars lit with $20 bills. American $20 bills. No shit, I actually went to a currency exchange after I realized Australian money doesn't burn that well at all. I had my heart set on it, dammit!
Stay tuned...
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