A Journey of Personal Discovery
So I went to the Mens room today. This in itself is not an unusual event. I go on a healthy and regular basis. But today as I was standing in front of the urinal, I noticed something. I was unable to locate the fly hole of my boxers. Without the fly hole, the magical pants weasel remains caged in the prison of my shorts. And I can't pee without causing what the commercials refer to as "personal wetness" At least I think that's what they're referring to.
Anyway, there was no cause for immediate alarm. Sometimes the flyhole shifts a little to the left or right. So I started searching. Nada. What about up? Okay, maybe down? Absolutely nothing.
Well, not nothing if you know what I mean, but this isn't a story about the size of my junk. Which is huge. Seriously. Porn-star like. A behemoth of schlong-osity. Just saying.
Anyway, while this is going one, a lawyer from the firm next door took up position at the urninal next to me. He stared fixedly ahead as I continued my search, as I brought both hands to bear, muttering things like "What the hell? It has to be here somewhere!" If you ever want to make a fellow rest room user uncomfortable, start talking to your crotch region when he's standing next to you. His gaze on the wall was so intense I expected the tile to crack. He left in a real hurry without washing his hands.
Still, my search came up empty. And things were beginning to reach critical mass. Finally I grabbed the waist band and pulled it down. And saw the label of my boxers. Yes, I had put my shorts on backwards this morning.
I'm not saying that I should get more sleep, but it's not what I'd call a good sign.
I thought about going into a stall, uh, reversing polarity, but decided against it. I kind of like the extra snugness up front.
Just thought I'd share.
LM
Anyway, there was no cause for immediate alarm. Sometimes the flyhole shifts a little to the left or right. So I started searching. Nada. What about up? Okay, maybe down? Absolutely nothing.
Well, not nothing if you know what I mean, but this isn't a story about the size of my junk. Which is huge. Seriously. Porn-star like. A behemoth of schlong-osity. Just saying.
Anyway, while this is going one, a lawyer from the firm next door took up position at the urninal next to me. He stared fixedly ahead as I continued my search, as I brought both hands to bear, muttering things like "What the hell? It has to be here somewhere!" If you ever want to make a fellow rest room user uncomfortable, start talking to your crotch region when he's standing next to you. His gaze on the wall was so intense I expected the tile to crack. He left in a real hurry without washing his hands.
Still, my search came up empty. And things were beginning to reach critical mass. Finally I grabbed the waist band and pulled it down. And saw the label of my boxers. Yes, I had put my shorts on backwards this morning.
I'm not saying that I should get more sleep, but it's not what I'd call a good sign.
I thought about going into a stall, uh, reversing polarity, but decided against it. I kind of like the extra snugness up front.
Just thought I'd share.
LM
posted by Lance Manion at 2:04 PM
2 Comments:
Underoos have pictures on the front, you know. Maybe that'd help.
Since I can't see "down there" anymore, I don't notice that my underoos are on inside out until I use the bathroom. And then I don't notice it until halfway thru the day. You'd think I'd notice sooner since I use the toilet at least a dozen times an hour.
And my husband wonders why I'm done having kids after this pregnancy.
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