The Great Urinal Stalemate

    Trust me, you're going to want to click on the link below.  Don't worry, it's not some sort of phishing scam or attempt to lure you into the website for NAMFLA (North American Man-Fish Love Association) for which I can reap rich rewards for each click.

Or is it?

    Really, it's not.

    Actually, while I usually don't post other people's work (mostly because they're generally much funnier than I am), this cracked me up in a "I soooooo know what he's talking about!" kind of way. So, I decided to take a chance and show you what a talented person has to say.  

    So go ahead and have a look.

https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1WE74PjhzQ/

    I'll wait.

    Done?  Pretty funny, huh?

    The men among you, I'm sure, are quite familiar with the etiquette involved with using public rest rooms.  Come to think of it, "public" is probably unnecessary.  At home, I have my own bathroom.  I can pee everywhere and leave the seat up, if I want, dammit.  

   But, I don't.  Because I'm a civilized human being.

   And my wife uses it sometimes.

    Anyway, the concept of a "bashful bladder" is a very real thing (he calls it "shy" bladder, but it's the same).  If some dude is right next to me, that thing clams up like a nun's va...

uhhhh, never mind.  Suffice to say, the waterworks don't, uh, work.  What's more, I could be spouting Niagara Falls, but the VERY SECOND someone stands next to me, everything shuts off and I'm forced to stare at a linoleum wall.  I try to take my mind off things like do math problems, visualize bodies of water, think of things I have to do, try to decipher the tiny writing on the grout....WHAT THE EFF IS MY EX-WIFE'S NAME DOING THERE!!??

    If that doesn't work and I can't reestablish communications with my bladder, I faux shake, wash my hands in the sink (which is a good idea, anyway, because I wouldn't have pissed on my fingers in the first place), and then head outside to wait until the inconsiderate urinal hog leaves.

    Then I head back in to finish the job.

    This is if I am already at the urinal.  If I walk into a bathroom and see only two urinals and one is occupied, I choose the stall.  If the stall is occupied, I once again do an about-face and wait out the aforementioned potty patrons.

    If there are three urinals and only one is being used, I will use the one on the end.

Unless the middle is being used by this inconsiderate bastard. 
 If so, out again I go.

 

    Same basic theory goes with needing a stall if I'm suffering a "Crap Attack."  No bashful sphincter there, though.  I am in an enclosed space, don'tcha know.  But, I avoid farting or making noises to confirm that I am doing exactly what the damn thing was designed for in the first place.

This, though.  THIS!

    I will say this, however.  All of the above prohibitions pale in comparison to plopping down on a warm seat.

    In that case, I'll wait to go home.

Now you know the real reason why
Dylan Mulvaney wants to use the Ladies Room