I sit on the toilet for what seems to be an inappropriate amount of time. I start surfing the Internet with my phone, because I’m convinced the entire reason smartphones were invented was to shit and go on Newgrounds at the same time. But I’m on yahoo.com because I can’t stop reading shitty dating articles written by forty-year-old housewives that call themselves journalists. “What you thought she didn’t know about your past.” I’m reading this terrible yet tantalizing article when my lower bowel movements begin to shutter.
And then it fucking happened.
In a confusing state of reading, learning, and unleashing a firestorm of shit, my wiener shoots up, scraping the roof of the toilet seat.
Outside crap water splashing from the port-o-Jon back into your sphincter THIS is every male’s worst nightmare. It’s the one reason most of us hold off our bathroom breaks until we are comfortably nestled in our own apartments. Unfortunately waiting isn’t always possible.
Top five things Women probably don’t know about men that we don’t tell you because it either fucking sucks, you wouldn’t believe us, or you would never understand in a million years because you’re too busy reading crappy magazines and articles on yahoo.com then to ask us about our feelings.
Poorly Timed Boners
Ever pitch a tent on a plane during landing? Ever fry your pork sword running a marathon? I bet you don’t even know what I’m talking about.
Living in the world with a penis isn’t all just pissing in the bushes and constant promotions. We have problems too. There’s a reason why students aren’t asked to stand up and give presentations during the red eye class in college. Male faculty members held a meeting and decided that all classes after ten PM should be math only. Everyone knows that nighttime is the sexiest time of the day and constant bonerage displayed by every male in the room was just too out of control. No, we aren’t daydreaming about you. Not all of us. We aren’t complete perverts. We just have a boner. Deal with it.
Boners While Pooping
Your wiener becomes erected and ascends to the top of the toilet seat usually sliding across collecting piss and shit particles in the process. That’s how I imagine it when the “toilet bowl scrubber” happens to me. It requires an instant shower and closely calculated scrubbing of all genitalia.
It’s hard to believe but outside our erectile issues we do have feelings. When you hit us it hurts. When you call us ugly, fat, stupid, gross, annoying, asshole, mean, slow, and a pig; it does in fact register. Some sort of memo got around in an email chain (Only sent by women) that men don’t have feelings, and because of that we have been receiving a constant fusillade of bitchery for decades. Well, we do in fact feel emotional sorrow. We hide it out of pride and we hold it back when around people, not because we’re strong, or afraid to open up. We hold it in because we believe that sharing our fragile state of emotional instability to everyone we meet during the day is fucking rude. Ladies, you can learn something from this and stop calling us cruel names.
Females are rarely subject to the injustice of having friends openly admit their love for one’s mother or sister. Yeah, sure, there can be times when one’s brother is the target of jokes and false sexual fantasies but it’s never met with the same vulgarity expressed by the male counterpart. The best thing for a man ages 12 to 99 is the hope that they were born a single child to a gay marriage, because that is the only possibility to avoid a countless and unrelenting barrage of sex jokes committed against your female family members. (Although I’m sure prompting new jokes) I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this ladies, as I’m sure you're a sister, wife, or mother, but you have been the butt of immature male humor for years.
We all know the basic rule. The man pays. Well, at the very minimum pays for the first three dates. There has been a plethora of females coming out of the woodwork saying this shouldn’t be the case, but subconsciously, historically, and basic rule of thumb says it very well is the case. You may say, “I don’t care who picks up the bill”, but it's complete bullshit and you know it. The man will always, whether he likes it or not, symbolize protection and stability. Women subconsciously seek these attributes and men know this. No matter how much you try to convince him otherwise, he will always have to pick up the bill. No matter how much you try to convince yourself, it will always matter a little bit.
Being a dude is hard work.
|You just had three margaritas.|