Best of CL: Busted peeing in the sink

Date: 2008-12-09, 9:09AM CST

When it comes to peeing, its great to be a male. Ladies (and fellows with a micro-penis) purse their lips at men's blithe attitude toward convenience when it comes to answering nature's call. We're so crass, rude, disgusting. Right.

You're just fucking envious. And well you should be. It is indescribably wondrous portaging a permanently attached watering hose. Witness "Man, Peeing in Garden," the epitome of casualness. Few, if any, locations are off-limits when the urge is felt: parking garage, deck, the sink...simply too many nouns to list. Still, while decorum is abused, discretion is not--more on this point in a moment.

Oh sure, many a woman has pee'd outside of the pot, though strictly as a matter of urgency and with much reluctance and with great angst. There is no female example of "whipping it out." In fact, yours is a complete show. You fret about the location, the preparation, the sundries, minimizing dribble "christ almighty" it's a fifteen minute ordeal. Men can sort of relate to your dilemma, like when we need to poop and there's no bathroom in sight.

Anyway, I pee in the sink. I've been peeing into bathroom sinks for years. Convenience is my primary reason. But there are many very good reasons to pee in a sink. A few among them:

I can multitask, which is important to me: both my hands are free to brush teeth, comb hair, apply hygiene products, etc. I've never done and empirical study, but I am certain in my gut that cumulative hours are saved annually by peeing in the sink.

It's environmentally conscientious. I conserve water when I pee in the sink. As I wash my hands or rinse my toothbrush, my pee is carried through the p-trap down into the sanitary line. Toilet, sink as George Castanza explained, "It's all pipes!"

It's the "green" thing to do. By peeing on dried toothpaste, solidified lungers, loose hair, and other lingering yuckiness stuck inside the sink, I save still more water and reduce phosphates and other nasty chemicals that might otherwise have been used to clean the sink.

It's considerate. Regardless whether my girlie is sleeping, watching television, reading in silence, I do not disturb her with a cacophonous serenade of "man-peeing-into-toilet-then-flushing." Peeing into a sink is very quiet.

It's clean. There is no toilet water splash nor urine splatter on walls, seat or in the crannies of the commode. Here I bandy the duel argument of "less work" (by not scrubbing said surfaces after each use) and, consequently, "more green" (requires less use of environmentally harmful cleaning chemicals). Pee is, for the most part, sterile when it hits the sink, so no need to use expensive disinfectant. Thus I submit another good, albeit tenuous, reason I pee in the sink: it saves money.

It builds "relationship equity." The seat is always down, which appears to my girlie as sublimely considerate and one those "little things" I do for her. This manifests, somehow, in better sex.

It's hygienic. After my stream has diminished to a trickle, I splash a handful or two of water on my dick, thus washing it. I have a clean dick and I put my dick up against the dick of any "traditional" toilet user for some quantitative dick evaluation; eg.: stiff test, taste test. Rub my dick against glass and it squeaks.

I can think of violently few disadvantages to peeing in a sink. Off the top of my head:

- peeing into a sink after eating asparagus is very unpleasant;

- fishing a contact lens out of the sink while "multitasking" is disturbing; and,

- reflexive tumescence may result from the splash of overly cold or hot water, which can have messy consequences.

I confess that a lifetime of casually whipping it out and letting go when and wherever has caused my "Emergency Pee Shut Off" muscle, assuming it ever existed, to atrophy. Richard Pryor was correct that a man cannot cut off his stream "just like that."

I am aware that this technique d'avant garde might offend the eyeballs of an accidental witness, so I always exercise discretion when I pee in the sink. That said, peeing in the sink is so routine for me that I am complacent, and I never thought up a contingency plan should someone walk in on me.

Just this morning my girlie busted me peeing in the sink, rather (as I now understand), "her" sink. She fucking had a cow and slapped my dick hard like it was a big hairy fucking spider on the countertop.

Thus I know from experience that getting caught peeing in the sink does not garner even the tiniest, wee little bit of appreciation of or for any of those benefits I mentioned above. Therefore, heed this exhortation: make damn site sure no one will walk in as you pee in the sink.

So there I am this morning, brushing my teeth in front of the mirror and quietly contemplating my day while a night's worth of pee drained out of my unlimbered dick laying in the sink. My girlie sneaked up behind me topless as a playful, sexy morning surprise, and so intended, she was oblivious to my present commitment. She might as well have tossed a glass of ice water on my back cause with the sudden and unexpected feeling of her hands around my midriff, I reflexively jerked up and away from the sink. My flaccid dick tossed about mid-stream until I could completely close down the relief valve. I was untethered for no more than.. what.. two seconds, but it seemed like I peed on fucking everything, including her jewelry box and her basket of stretchy hair things, both of which she was real unhappy about upon discovery. Miraculously, I missed her. She was incredulous. I sensed a radar-lock on my groin area and my hand moved instinctively to my protect my dick, but I was too slow. With the speed of a fucking praying mantis, she lashed at my dick and nailed it good. I hollered "what the fuck," spewing frothy toothpaste on her, which only added to the indignity and intensified her fury. It was a fucking show this morning in our, rather, her bathroom.

I didn't learn any lessons this morning (except maybe to lock the bathroom door). I did learn that my girlie is irrational and uptight about this particular issue. Frankly, fuck if I know what to do or what to say to her come this evening. I'm going to go to the restroom and take a good long look at myself in the mirror, mostly because I'll be peeing in the sink, but also to steel my nerve and strategize for tonite.

Location: in my bathroom

Best of CL: Some Advice From Your Public Defender

Date: 2005-04-26, 10:49AM PDT

First, let me say I love my job and it is a privilege to work for my clients. I wish I could do more for them. That being said, there are a few things that need to be discussed.

You have the right to remain silent. So SHUT THE FUCK UP. Those cops are completely serious when they say your statements can and will be used against you. There's just no need to babble on like it's a drink and dial session. They are just pretending to like you and be interested in you.

When you come to court, consider your dress. If you're charged with a DUI, don't wear a Budweiser shirt. If you have some miscellaneous drug charge, think twice about clothing with a marijuana leaf on it or a t-shirt with the "UniBonger" on it. Long sleeves are very nice for covering tattoos and track marks. Try not to be visibly drunk when you show up.

Consider bathing and brushing your teeth. This is just as a courtesy to me who has to stand by you in court. Smoking 5 generic cigarettes to cover up your bad breath is not the same as brushing. Try not to cough and spit on my while you speak and further transmit your strep, flu, and hepatitis A through Z.

I'm a lawyer, not your fairy godmother. I probably won't find a loophole or technicality for you, so don't be pissed off. I didn't beat up your girlfriend, steal that car, rob that liquor store, sell that crystal meth, or rape that 13 year old. By the time we meet, much of your fate has been sealed, so don't be too surprised by your limited options and that I'm the one telling you about them.

Don't think you'll improve my interest in your case by yelling at me, telling me I'm not doing anything for you, calling me a public pretender or complaining to my supervisor. This does not inspire me, it makes me hate you and want to work with you even less.

It does not help if you leave me nine messages in 17 minutes. Especially if you leave them all on Saturday night and early Sunday morning. This just makes me want to stab you in the eye when we finally meet.

For the guys: Don't think I'm amused when you flirt or offer to "do me." You can't successfully rob a convenience store, forge a signature, pawn stolen merchandise, get through a day without drinking, control your temper, or talk your way out of a routine traffic stop. I figure your performance in other areas is just as spectacular, and the thought of your shriveled unwashed body near me makes me want to kill you and then myself.

For the girls: I know your life is rougher than mine and you have no resources. I'm not going to insult you by suggesting you leave your abusive pimp/boyfriend, that you stop taking meth, or that your stop stealing shit. I do wish you'd stop beating the crap out of your kids and leaving your needles out for them to play with because you aren't allowing them to have a life that is any better than yours.

For the morons: Your second grade teacher was right - neatness counts. Just clean up! When you rob the store, don't leave your wallet. When you drive into the front of the bank, don't leave the front license plate. When you rape/assault/rob a woman on the street, don't leave behind your cell phone. After you abuse your girlfriend, don't leave a note saying that you're sorry.

If you are being chased by the cops and you have dope in your pocket - dump it. These cops are not geniuses. They are out of shape and want to go to Krispy Kreme and most of all go home. They will not scour the woods or the streets for your 2 grams of meth. But they will check your pockets, idiot. 2 grams is not worth six months of jail.

Don't be offended and say you were harassed because the security was following you all over the store. Girl, you were wearing an electronic ankle bracelet with your mini skirt. And you were stealing. That's not harassment, that's good store security.

And those kids you churn out: how is it possible? You're out there breeding like feral cats. What exactly is the attraction of having sex with other meth addicts? You are lacking in the most basic aspects of hygiene, deathly pale, greasy, grey-toothed, twitchy and covered with open sores. How can you be having sex? You make my baby-whoring crack head clients look positively radiant by comparison.

"I didn't put it all the way in." Not a defense.

"All the money is gone now." Not a defense

"The bitch deserved it." Not a defense.

"But that dope was so stepped on, I barely got high." Not a defense.

"She didn't look thirteen." Possibly a defense; it depends.

"She didn't look six." Never a defense, you just need to die.

For those rare clients that say thank-you, leave a voice mail, send a card or flowers, you are very welcome. I keep them all, and they keep me going more than my pitiful COLA increase.

For the idiots who ask me how I sleep at night: I sleep just fine, thank you. There's nothing wrong with any of my clients that could not have been fixed with money or the presence of at least one caring adult in their lives. But that window has closed, and that loss diminishes us all.