Time for your Deadspin Open Mailbag Tuesday. Email us here or submit your questions via Twitter. This week, we're covering shower beers, heaven's database, Chocodiles, Verizon chick, Band Aids, and more.
My kid had a full diaper yesterday, so Mrs. Drew asked me to go change him, which I happily agreed to do.
ME: (picking up baby) All right, kid. Let's DO this!
WIFE: (rolls eyes)
WIFE: You always say that.
ME: I always say what?
WIFE: "Let's DO this!"
ME: I do?
WIFE: Uh huh. Anytime you're about to feed him, or change him, or get in the car. "Let's DO this!"
ME: Really? Holy shit. I didn't even realize I did that. I must sound like a complete tool.
ME: Well, I won't do that again! (starts walking upstairs) Okay, kid. Let's DO this!
WIFE: You just said it again.
My transformation into Phil from "Modern Family" is all but complete. Onto your letters:
Ever have a band-aid on a finger for a few days and realize it starts to give of a stench from hell? This happens to me all the time. I'll take the band-aid off my finger and refuse to put another one on because I can't stop smelling my finger. It is the most putrid smell of all, but yet I can't get enough.
I agree completely. That fucking rancid Band Aid smell is horrid. Smells like someone cut off your finger and soaked it in formaldehyde for an hour. And it doesn't take days to achieve that effect. It takes mere minutes. And getting in on your finger is the worst, because at some point you'll wash a dish or wash your hands and then the Band Aid will be too wet but you'll be too lazy to change it and then five minutes pass and it starts to smell like you fingerblasted a fucking corpse. And yet, I smell away. Disturbing.
Worst of all, Band Aids give you that puffy finger. The skin gets all moist and swollen and then the flaps of skin get all thick and ridges form and GAHHHHH! So you HAVE to leave the Band Aid on, if only for cosmetic reasons, but that just makes the shit worse! So you have to take the Band Aid off and risk people seeing your hideous mutant finger and fleeing in terror. And those liquid bandages are ASS.
This is why I just soak up the blood with paper towels now. Anything to avoid suffocating parts of my own body with a Band Aid.
I've never broken a bone in my life, but I can only imagine that removing a cast after months is 1,000 times worse.
So I was rubbing one out in the shower the other day, thinking about a girl in one of my shitty college classes, and a thought passed my mind I can't believe I've never considered before. Has any girl, anywhere, ever, thought about me while performing said sex act? I mean, it seems like odds should be in your favor, considering the massive amount of girls I've thought about who didn't know I existed at the time. Then again, in the deep pits of my soul, I have more depressing thoughts about what the number would be, and what the quality of these women would be.
I covered this in a Jamboroo ages ago, but it bears discussing again, because to me, it's one of the great unsolved mysteries of life. I contend that, should God and heaven exist, they should be able to answer all your questions about that shit when you die, just like in the Heaven's Database SNL sketch. Like, you die, and then you go up to heaven, and God knows PRECISELY which girls in your life would have had sex with you if you had simply gone for it. There have to be a couple surprises in there (Aunt Rita?). You should also be able to watch an instant replay of any of these women fantasizing about you, AND you should be able to see the vision they had in their heads of banging you like crazy. All of that needs to be included in the Heaven package (including DVR playback of all your actual sexual conquests), or else I'm not going. Not that I was, anyway.
Because this is the kind of shit that will bug a man FOR LIFE. Did I really have a chance with that one girl, or was I wasting my time? Whoa hey, you mean THAT CHICK would have had sex with me? Get the fuck out! HOLY SHIT. If only I had known…
Because women are so good at disguising their lust. Men are horrible at this. If we see a woman we want to have sex with, we stare at their tits and drool and stutter and all that. We wear our lust on our sleeves. But women will keep that unspoken desire hidden for fucking ever. You'll never know that Lisa P was into you. And that's the agony of being a man.
Toilet handles should be placed at foot level and the foot flush needs to be encouraged for the sake of all humanity.
I can get down with that. Once in a while, you stumble on a foot flush, and it's a JOY. It's like pissing and driving all at once.
Trot Nixon's Hat:
Yeah, it's from a cooking show, but it takes 15 minutes of work, and will give you a mouth-orgasm. I did it with Sherry instead of Cognac (Damn Maryland random county blue laws), and it was still damn good.
I'm sure it's good. But here the thing: I fucking HATE Alton Brown of the Food Network. I hate that smug prick with every fucking fiber of my being. I know there are people out there who really like Alton Brown, but I hope that guy gets his dick caught in a KitchenAid mixer. Such a fucking know-it-all. "Well, the lingonberry is native to Germany and is generally only used in sweet jams and savory reductions. You should never cook them above 214 degrees in the oven, or else the crystals will break down your sauce will run. A lot of people mistake Chinese gooseberries for lingonberries, (snickers) but I can assure you those people are wrong. I AM SO FUCKING SMART I WILL ABSORB YOU INTO MY BRAIN." Fucking showoff. Hey Alton, I got something for you to eat: Shit.
The powers to be at work installed a motion sensor activated exhaust fan outside the door to our toilet stall (a one holer), and also, at great expense, installed a little bitty shelf for a wick deodorizer.
I like to think it was because of me.
Is this a conceit? Or guilt?
Conceit. No doubt. No man should ever feel guilty about laying down extra strength chocosnakes.
I woke up the other night with killer heartburn. After I took care of the heartburn with Tums, and was back in bed, I started to think – what if I had been living 200 years ago?
Holy shit, I would have been culled out of society at an early age. Heartburn, toothache, burst appendix, nearsighted?….What the hell did people do back then? They died, that's what. I could have never survived back then….You?
Oh, I would have committed suicide by age 12. I always think about that whenever I use Chap Stick, only I go even further back in time. If my lips had been chapped 2,000 years ago, that would have been it. Chapped lips for fucking life. Got a sore leg? Sorry, kid. No Advil for you. Just unrelenting pain until you die. This is why everyone fought in wars (the world, despite ongoing unrest, has been relatively peaceful in recent decades), because you may as well go fight and die if there's no way to soothe your giant herpes sores. Know what I would have done back then? Become an opium eater. Just such a cool thing to be.
If I had a time machine (I don't), I would stock up on shit at Wal Mart, travel back two hundred years, and turn myself into a fucking superhero. HOLY SHIT, IT'S FUTUREMAN! THAT DUDE WITH ALL THE GUNS AND MOTORIZED VEHICLES AND COLD SORE MEDICINE! FUTUREMAN WILL SAVE US! Then I'd totally get some 19th century tail. In the present, I'd be just an ordinary guy. But rewind two hundred years, and I'd be a STALLION.
So I just lost in fantasy football, standard, and when the time came to mail my check, without thought on the memo line I wrote, "hookers and crack". At what age (if any) must you stop doing this?
The age where you discover PayPal and start writing FUCK YOU ASSHOLE in the message box.
My all time favorite snack food treasure trove is the folded-over potato chip. I search a bag of potato chips for folded over chips - I move chips out of the way when I spot a nice curled edge smiling back at me. I'm sort of like the T-800: I find the target, I terminate it.
If you get a single fold, that's like 2x the flavor. A double fold? 4x. There is also the elusive triple fold. Rare in nature. And it nets you 8x flavor. It makes me wonder - all of these bits of deliciousness - are they rare because they are good? Or do I get way too philosophical when I find folded over potato chips?
No, I agree that folded over chips are very special indeed, and that's because you not only get the extra grease in the folds, but you also get the extra crunch. Like Godzilla spotting a tall person in the crowd. I search through any bag of potato chips with a strict hierarchy of preferences on my mind:
1. Chip with most flavor dust on it (BBQ chips and the like only)
2. Folded-over chip
3. Translucent with grease chip
I leave all the regularass chips for the SUCKERS. TASTE THE ORDINARY, FUCKSTAINS!
Does your wife ever get mad at you for eating stuff? My wife will go to the store and buy a bag of chips and inadvertently I will eat the whole thing over the course of the weekend and then like a week later, she is like, "didn't I just buy chips? Why do you eat the whole bag?!" My thought is that food should only be in your house for less than a week and she doesn't even go to use it by then, then I have all the right in the world to eat the whole effing thing!
Agreed. My wife won't get mad at me for eating stuff, but she will be piqued if I FINISH something without her getting a taste. "Hey, what happened to all the Smartfood! I wanted that!" Well, I beat ya. Tough titty for you, lady! What are we supposed to do, keep all foodstuffs in the house for a fucking year? We can BUY MORE. It's a no-win proposition too, because if you don't finish the food item in question, and you leave a little bit for her, you aren't considerate. You're still a dick for leaving her just a little bit. This is why men and women need separate fridges.
This is an even worse thing with bottle of liquor. I'll buy a bottle of liquor, then a couple weeks later she'll be like, "Whoa hey, this bottle is half gone! THAT'S A LOT!" Dude, we've had that shit for WEEKS. I bought it so I could drink it and enjoy it. That's how it works. I didn't buy it just for decoration, like I did that copy of "Blood Meridian". Scotch is made to be used!
I felt a man of your refined eating habits should know about this.
That's right, cereal milk flavored ice cream. The guy who invented this should get a Macarthur grant.
They have Cap'n Crunch, Lucky Charms, and Fruity Pebbles. But no Cocoa Puffs or CTC milk ice cream? Come on, MOMOFUKU! Get your shit together.
I just discovered something I should have long ago, it's blown my mind and I'm doing it every morning now. I started bring orange juice to work in whatever random container I could find, empty water bottle etc. Last week I had an unusually long ride to work and by the time I got there the juice was warm so I threw it in the freezer nearby and forgot about it. Roughly 30 minutes later I remembered it and what I opened was the most perfectly slushy bottle of heaven I've ever consumed. At first I thought it was ruined, but before I knew it I was sucking the slushy goodness out like a pornstar making time-and-a-half. It's become my daily ritual now and figured I'd lend this piece of wisdom to the crowd.
See, folks? In this mailbag, we share and learn.
I go to Long John Silver's once every couple of months (so that I don't have an immediate heart attack), and it's I almost feel like I'm cheating on my wife...I always feel guilty after going there, and if she knew, she would kill me, so I only partake when I get out of work early and can sneak it in without her knowing. You know what's great about LJS? For no extra cost you can order a side of "crumbs." What are crumbs, you ask? The extra fried bits that aren't chicken or fish, just pure fried grease. They put them in a little cardboard container that instantly becomes soaked from the immense amount of oil dripping from these beauties. And they are free! I could easily just eat crumbs for my meal and go home happy, but I'd probably have a coronary on the way home.
Before I started going on a fucking diet, I used to occasionally go after the gym and sneak a candy bar for a snack while away from my wife's watchful eye, quickly undoing whatever workout thing I had just done. I tried going through the entire candy shelf, too: all iterations of Reese's products and the like. One time, when I was at work, I had to grab some groceries to bring home that night. So I brought the groceries home and my wife starts going through the receipt. Wives always do this.
WIFE: You got a Twix bar?
ME: I did? Oh. OH! Oh, Ernie asked me to get that for him.
WIFE: No, he didn't.
ME: (chokes up) BUT I DESERVED A TREAT!
Am I the only one that kind-of likes it when you get sick?
I got really sick today at work and went home after half the day. Because I was so weak and tired all I was able to do was lounge on the couch with my remote in hand. And because of that, laying on the couch just felt amazing. I caught up on my DVR, watched college basketball, and about 4 hours of Discovery channel. When I had the urge to rub one out I convinced myself it was a good idea to rent a porn from cable and watch a lesbian porn on my big screen cause I was too weak to sit at the computer.
Everything is going great until you realize because of all the inactivity/napping there is no fucking way you get any sleep tonight.
Yeah, somehow a bed is 80 times more comfortable when you're sick and fucking miserable. But that night sleeping after you've slept 10 hours during the day is a killer. I get those night sweats, where you wake up and the bed is just fucking soaked with cold sweat, and you're like, "What the fuck just happened?" Then you get out of bed and you're ungodly cold, so you have to suck it up and get back underneath the drenched covers. Horrifying.
Regarding spitting into a urinal. I don't do it all the time and I don't have to be drinking alcohol to do it. Instead, I do it whenever someone is at a urinal next to me. The reason is that I can never go with someone standing next to me, complete mental block. Nothing will come out, but the second the guy steps away it flows like the Mississippi. I get very self-conscious that the person next to me knows that I can't go and knows it's because I'm a choker or have bathroom issues dating back to childhood or am shy about size or some other psychological reason. So I like to spit, so they at least hear something wet hitting the urinal. That will throw them off, I think. I try to get a steady stream of spit so it at least sort of sounds like urine. And I of course have to make sure the other person doesn't see it.
I confessed this all to my wife once. She looked at me like she couldn't figure out whether to divorce me or commit me.
"You think they hear the spit and think that's urine falling into the urinal?"
"Even if they did believe that, and no one ever has, I assure you, what do you think they're thinking of the guy next to them who apparently pisses in large clumps of liquid that hit the urinal five seconds apart?"
I don't know.
I have noticed that, while many people I know suffer from stagefright, NONE of them are people I piss next to at a public urinal. No, I'm always standing right next to Big Jim from Wichita, who was apparently born to piss with other people hovering around. No mental block for THAT guy. There isn't even a split second of hesitation. The second his fly is open… BOOM! Water hits the cake. Annoying.
I have a Prince Albert piercing. I love everything about it except that it makes it virtually impossible to piss standing up without getting about a quarter of the piss on my pants. I've tried numerous methods of positioning the piercing to stop the leakage, but so far nothing has consistently worked. The easy solution is to piss sitting down, which is OK at home, but not so OK at a bar. Do I need therapy? Removing the P.A. is not an option since (a) I dig it and (b) the hole never fully closes so I'd face the same standing-to-piss dilemma without my beloved jewelry. Suggestions?
What's a Prince Albert piercing?
/does Google search
/sees word "urethra" involved
Good fucking Christ. So you got your dick pierced in a procedure that is nonreversible, and it causes you to piss all over yourself, and you LIKE this? Way to go, fella. You just gave yourself Bong Dick.
In my house there's two toilets, one is the old-school kind that's a bit bigger, the bowl is more oval than circle, more room in the front. The other is the newer cheap small kind that is more circular with little room between your dick and the front of the seat when you're sitting.
When using the tiny toilet, I always seem to forget to take a little more time while sitting to make sure the dangling parts indeed dangle instead of getting wedged between my fat thighs that inevitably trap said parts and keep them from achieving a workable angle downward. The result every time is being distracted with a magazine (usually Entertainment Weekly, a mag only readable on the can) while merrily pissing through the gap between the seat and the bowl, then having it flow down the front of the bowl, pooling up on the floor in front of me, and soaking into the ass of my pants/shorts. Just a disgusting set of end results all the way around. Especially at work, no way to hide that without raising some serious questions.
I've had this happen, and it's horrible. For some reason, your dick is sitting up on your nuts and you forget to do that crucial press down. DISASTER. You gotta really press that fucker down. Whenever I hit the toilet now, I stuff my dick down below until it's practically fishing in the water.
I suffer from Chipotle guilt. I just recently starting going there, and I do so for the same reason as others: the shit's delicious. However, as a longtime frequenter of seedy Taqueria joints (nothing's better than some lengua tacos at 2 a.m.), the Chipotle experience feels so whitewashed in comparison. While standing in line during my lunchbreak, I can sense my drunk, slightly-younger self berating me like I'm some kind off sellout. It's like a hippy getting a glimpse at his future, cleancut self in a suit-and-tie, working for "the man."
Am I out of line in thinking of Chipotle as some kind of Disney/McDonald's-type corporate evil, or should I stuff more burrito bowls down my facehole and forget about it?
There was some other guy who wrote it this week to declare Cali Mexican food overrated and declaring the superiority of Chipotle, which I can't disagree with strongly enough. I think if you live here in the East, where authentic Mexican food is rarer, going to Chipotle is excusable. But if you live in the Southwest, where the Mexican food is real and delicious and a million times cheaper than fucking Chipotle, you deserve your Chipotle guilt.
(ASIDE: I was at a Wizards game with KOGOD, and during one of the breaks they started throwing freshly made Chipotle burritos into the crowd. The dude behind me caught one, didn't want it, and gave it to me. I felt like I had just won PowerBall. Fuck the T-shirt cannons. Every team everywhere needs to throw free burritos into the crowd. The scrums are five times more intense.)
I can't stop you from unleashing your hellspawn on the world, but, as a married guy with no kids, I don't want to be around them if I can help it. A friend with kids clued me into the tacit joint custody agreement for restaurants that has served me well:
Prior to 7:30pm, kids are welcome and I should assume that all restaurants will be a landmine of screaming brats and harried parents. Knowing this, I have no right to complain/punch a baby if I decide to stroll into Cheesecake Factory at 6pm. After 7:30pm, however, it's time for parents to take little Johnny home and put his ass to bed so the rest of us can enjoy dining in peace.
Like weekends and holidays, there are always a few exceptions but with a little understanding on both sides, détente is possible.
Agreed. I'll even give you an extra 30 minutes. I would NEVER take a child into a restaurant after 7PM. The only time I take the kids out to a restaurant is at, like, 5, when other parents are doing the same shit and the whole restaurant is just a disaster zone of crayons on the floor and husbands getting up to grab more napkins from the wait station. If you take your kids into a restaurant after 7PM, you're a fuck.
I eat my cereal out of one of those gigantic coffee cups that holds like 8 cups of coffee. Looks classy, and gets the fuck filled out of it with Fruity Pebbles.
But you've made a crucial mistake. The wider the bowl, the shallower the pool of milk, and thus the cereal itself is less likely to rise out and spill over the edges. You put the cereal in a coffee mug with a narrow diameter, the cereal gets forced out like a fucking can of snakes. It's all about displacement, people.
Cali chow mein is the same as lo mein in the midwest. When you order chow mein in Cali, you don't get those crunchy noodles, which I hate btw.
I hate the crunchy noodles, too. That's what they served in school. The people that invented La Choy products need to be firebombed.
When you are at the grocery store with your sister's kid, and he knocks over a large cracker display, how long do I have to stand here making a token effort at helping to clean it up before I can politely walk away?
I always reach down, grab one box, and then put it away. By then, someone is usually running in to clean it up. Sometimes they arrive so quickly, you you can bend down halfway, then be like, "Oh, you got this? Oh, okay. Thanks!"
The Girl in the VCast Football Zone Commercials? Here name is Rebecca Grant. Happy spanking.
42-7? you are a cocksucking loser who hates the Jets. The jets are gonna win. why would you think the chargers would score 42 points on the leagues best defense? Youre a fucking hack just like your buttbuddy Bill Simmons. At leAst you dont make the money that fraud makes. youre a typical hater whose jealous of the jets success. PS NOBODY GIVES A SHIT ABOUT YOUR KIDS!!!!!
Colin sent this email BEFORE the Jets upset San Diego, so not only was his message hateful, it was also prescient. I like the cut of the fella's jib, I tell you!
Have you ever consumed a Chocodile? It's a chocolate covered Twinkie. I will repeat that for you - it's a chocolate covered twinkie. When I was in high school a million years ago in Upstate NY, I worked at a crappy convenience store that sold these things. Naturally I ate every one in the store. Not coincidentally, the store is no longer there. As I grew older I couldn't find them. Then last year for my birthday my girlfriend found them on the Internet and ordered them for me.
It took like 3 weeks for them to show up and they were actually stale by the time they got to my house (I'm not sure how a twinkie can get stale, but trust me, something was amiss). Anyway, they were still so damn good I still ate the whole box. Order them now - by the time they arrive you'll be down to 210 and can start larding up again.
I DO remember Chocodiles. There's that golden age of your prepubescent youth when you run through every fucking snack cake on Earth – Suzy Q's, Chocodiles, King Dons, etc. – That was a good time.
Why is the default color for men's underwear white? Why not brown?
It should really be black, since black hides all poop stains best.
My boxer drawer is filled with nothing but Old Navy boxers, which have all kinds of gay patterns on them: beer bottle, hearts, diamonds, etc. I go to the gym, and I am clearly the only shithead who buys his underwear at Old Navy. Everyone else is walking around in Calvin boxer briefs, and I'm sitting there in plaid Old Navy manboy shorts. I'm probably too old for my underwear.
Louis CK swears by boxer briefs, but I haven't had the nerve. Boxer briefs plus fatness can't equal anything good. And yet, maybe it's time.
My girlfriend and I were having an argument last week about what animal is the most common to have sex with among those in bestiality circles. I clearly think it is the dog while she was saying it is more likely to be some type of farm animal like a sheep.
Gotta be the dog. Way more people have access to dogs than sheep, horses, or other farm animals. And I doubt a cat's ass is easy to slip into, so it has to be the dog. Ideally, you'd want one of those tall dogs, like a mastiff. That way, you don't have to squat down. Banging a Dachsund has to be a logistical nightmare. I don't fuck animals. But if I DID? Mastiff all the way.
I just wanted to see I hope the Vikings lose horribly and Brett Favre dies on the field. Fuck you for rooting for a team employing Brett Favre. Fuck the Vikings for making me have to root for the Cowboys. And FUCK YOU BRETT FAVRE.
That's tough but fair.
Is there anything harder to muster up energy for than changing an empty toilet paper roll? Somehow, I always seem to be the big loser of toilet paper roulette at my house - I always spin to the cardboard.
Hang on. Before I answer…
"What do you think I was doing the whole time you were out there man? I told you Dignan got fired, out on his ass. But you didn't think about that, did you. In the end it's easier to think about yourself than it is to think about Dignan!"
Okay, that's out of the way. Anyway, I too always end up finishing the roll. And yes, I really have to strain to change that thing. There are menial tasks all over the place that are incredibly easy, but I find myself perpetually hesitant to do. Like paying a bill. Paying a bill couldn't be easier. You go online and click some shit, and you're done. Or you write a check and mail it out. It's easy. Yet I avoid that shit like it's akin to cleaning a sewer.
If you were a competitive eater, what would be your food/event? Mine would be ice cream
I finished a couple projects around the house just in time to take shower and catch the beginning of the Saturday games. I was fired up that my timing was perfect and announced to my wife that I would be celebrating with shower beers. She liked at me like I had 6 heads. "You're bringing beer in the shower with you...seriously?!". I couldn't believe she'd never done this. Under direct questioning she claims she has never even considered this. There is nothing better than a shower beer before you go out at night or to celebrate a good day of impending tailgating. Shit, I remember pulling this as far back as high school. I can't be the only one doing this.
You are NOT! Back in the single days, there was nothing better than getting ready for a night out by hitting the shower while drinking. I had one of those showers with a towel rack at the back, so I could rest my beer there if I need both hands free for shampooing and ballwashing. Having a beer in the shower makes any day special. You really do feel like the party has already started.
Don't you hate when the bag inside the cereal box doesn't open normally? You ever get those one that no matter how hard you try to pull open the top, it just won't budge? Then you have to rip the damn thing and it doesn't pour right for the rest of the cereal box's life. I fucking hate that.
Oh man, I fucking hate that. Know what cereal was the worst offender of that? CORN POPS. That fucking foil bag. Either it was glued shut with fucking rubber cement, so I was having to get the pliers to pry it open, or it ripped INSTANTLY upon pulling, spilling all the cereal from the bag into the box proper. Fucking Corn Pops.
Sometimes, you get those plastic inner bags, and you start pulling on it, only it won't open, and you start to see the plastic whiten from stretching and KNOW it's a fucking dud. Horrible feeling.
One of my kids pulled this out of his cereal bowl this morning:
My startled initial reaction was, "What in the living hell is THAT?!?!?". Further investigation revealed it to be some sort of congealed mass of generic CTC sugar in the form of a rock. It has been 15 years since I've purchased even a bag of weed, so I was hoping someone could tell me what something like this might be worth on the street. Thanks.
I just keep waiting for the Millennium Falcon to come flying out of that thing. THIS IS NO CAVE! That's what you get for buying generic CTC. Go name brand or go home, fella. You'd crack a molar on that thing.
I worked at a summer camp in Texas throughout college. The camp director, an old Texas high school football coach, told numerous stories about the camp's most famous alum, Drew Brees. One of his favorites involved Drew's absolute dominance for many years of camp dodgeball, breaking several noses along the way.
I imagine that type of killer instinct and training would come in handy during a snowball fight. Something to keep in mind!
The worst sound in history (besides gunfire) has to be the clickity-clack of your significant other's heels when trying to get to the subway.
1) When you hear them at the beginning of the evening going to the subway, you just know the damage (during walking and/or dancing) they will do to your loved one
2) When you hear them at the end of the evening you know that with each minute of clickity-clack, she is losing interest in sex by 5%.
SO...now, I demand my wife bring walking shoes when we go out.
I do too. Because you'll be out for an hour, and then your lady will want to go home because her feet are fucking DYING. So it cuts short your drinking time, too. Save the high heels for the bedroom, ladies!
What is the most fear enducing sound you can hear in a public bathroom while you're in the stall pinching a loaf? Is it the door being rattled by someone looking or hoping to gain entry? Is it the painful grunts coming from the stall beside you? How about hearing a fight by the sinks and you're stuck growing a tail, fearing that they'll break through the door and there you are not able to move?
The reason why I ask is that recently while taking a dump in a public bathroom, I heard a cell phone camera go off, and I was like "whatdafuck". Man, I have never been so caught off guard in my life.
That would be bad. I still hate it when someone grabs the door of my stall and tries to open it. Because there are guys who don't do it gently. They just grab it and pull the shit out of it, like they're trying to barge in and rape you. Terrifying. There's a slit in the stall, jackass. Just look through it for a body, like normal people do.
But yeah, the cell phone camera going off would scare me to death.
Jews for Jesus:
I think you should know about our existence. We are the Jewish fans of K-dub club, aka Jews for Jesus. We love Kurt Warner. Every "League day" about 10 of us get together for NFL action. Between the 10 of us I would say we own 30 fantasy teams. Each one of us has our beloved K-dub on at least one team. There isn't much to this story, we just wanted you to know that there is a group of Jews who absolutely love Kurt Warner, or as we affectionately call him - Kdub. By the way, not one of us is a St. Louis or Arizona fan.
Hang on. Let me get you Leitch's number. He loves K-dub too!
There's NOTHING better than farting while in the shower.
Unless you're having shower beers while doing it!
Wait for a nice one to brew up, then right before letting go cup your hand over your ass. There's something about the hand and the water combination that makes the sound reverberate across the entire household. My wife especially loves this in the morning when I'm showering before work and she's fast asleep. Not so fast, my friend…not so fast.
I do that. ‘Tis a glorious sound. Like farting in church.
You tell your wife that the recycling facilities can take care of that gunk. Here's proof: It's a waste of your water and your time. Throw it out immediately.
I showed this to Mrs. Drew.
WIFE: But then the recycling bin will stink. That's why I rinse them out. We have to keep doing it.
I like to jerk it using a pair of boxers. Hear me out on this one, the cloth feels good and makes lube unnecessary, and I can just finish into the boxers for easy clean up. Am I weird for doing this?
Ryan in NH:
Those poofy toilet seats suck
They do! You only see those things in old people's houses. They're always moist. Guhhhhh. And, without fail, they'll also have the shag toilet lid cover. So when you go to lift the lid, the shag will be too thick, and the lid can't stay up and it comes crashing back down onto the seat. Worst noise ever. Sometimes, I'll see the lid start to fall and go to stop it like I'm Jack fucking Bauer. But I'm always too slow.
In response to the reader who wrote in about the solo mile high club, I am also a member. But why did you complain about airplane bathrooms? My experience being initiated into the club didn't involve the lavatory. Yes, on a full commercial flight I beat my dick under a blanket. It was a transatlantic red eye and the old guy next to me was fast asleep and the whole plane was dark. Don't judge me for it!
Oh, we'll judge you for it. We'll judge the shit out of you for it.