It’s not easy living with people with penises.
I’m outnumbered by ‘winkies’ in this house, it’s only 2:1 but it’s not much fun in the bathroom department. Now we have a fully confident bottom wiper who likes to do his ‘thing’ in private day or night it’s proving increasingly difficult to monitor splash back or when his aim game is way off the mark (which happens A LOT)!
What really pisses me off (pun intended) is the nightly game of toilet seat roulette. When I’m bursting for a pee and can’t be arsed getting out of bed to go to the loo in the dark not knowing what awaits me when I get there. But needs must so the journey begins…
I wall walk in the dark, not because I’m in unfamiliar surroundings but because my hip is dodgy and I’d deck it in the darkness otherwise. My eye sights shit too so it’s wall walk for the win! Literally like the walking dead around here!
I get to the loo safely having successfully gone undetected passed the open bedroom door of penis #2. He sometimes shoots up like a meerkat demanding to know what’s going on at 3am. I can’t even take a piss in peace no matter what time of day or night it is.
Yassss! With the help of the hall light I can make out that the toilet seat is still down. I’m in first place piss heaven! I continue on with the task in hand, sitting on the loo I find it both cold and soaked in piss, ‘fuck sake’ I mutter as my butt cheeks make the connection to my brain that I’m now tainted. Like that’ s not bad enough I then feel my foot hit something wet on the floor and yes that too is now also soaked in piss, even the bottom of my pj trousers need wringing out. What are these people? Racehorses? Blind?
I continue on in resentful silence and think about a revenge flush but knowing that’ll backfire and wake up penis #2 and not penis #1 as intended I decide against it.
Seething with rage I wall walk trouser-less back to the bedroom leaving my sodden pj bottoms on the bathroom floor in disgust.
The morning comes as it always does, this time little love runs in demanding to know why my jammy bottoms are on the bathroom floor and has the cheek to ask if I’ve had an accident.
I indignantly say I did not have an accident all the while thinking that I may as well have just pissed the bed since at least I would’ve stayed nice and warm!
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In defence of penises… something that women don’t appreciate is that when they marry a man that they are marrying someone who is conjoined to a penis. Every penis has its own mind and its own personality. They can be quite wilfull at times and decide to randomly give themselves a stretch. This can happy anytime. Bizarrely, it can happen immediately after waking up. A chap will open his blearly eyes and stretch forth is legs and his arms without a carnal thought onhis mind when, “Ding!”, Peter Penis wakes up and has a stretch too, half strangling himself as he tries to find a way out of the pj’s. With no care for the consequences he recklessly prods one’s sleeping partner who delivers a sharp elbow into one’s midriff because she thinks it is you that is after something (which you are not because you are only just awake) when all that has happened it that Pete was having a wee stretch.
And then the toilet issue. This is where Pete is at his least controllable due to a number of factors. The first is to do with nurture. It is the custom for most males to have been toilet trained by their sit-down-to-have-a-pee mothers. This fact makes it all the more incredible that these individuals teacher their fledgling penises to stand when they have a pee. They teach them to stand when they have a pee, something they themselves have no experience of, and expect them to hit the target which is likely to be in a more distant proximity to the bowl then when they perform…sitting down.
Then there’s the folds of skin. These individuals realised long before during their evolutionary journey that since they had folds of skin for pee to get through and that directing the pee was going to be difficult that it was better to sit down and avoid those embarrassing urinary pools around the bowl. Did the female of the species decide to pass on this wisdom to their little penis masters? Eh, no. Make him stand and give him a target, a target whose dimensions were clearly decided by a group of women. Toilet-bowl oppression, that’s what it is. Make a target that isn’t quite the right size and humiliate him every time Pete misses.
Of course we have the whippin’ it oot procedure too. When a chap whips it oot it can be a lottery. Totally flacid can go anywhere. Pete at full stretch…can go anywhere. There is no knowing what Pete is going to do. This is because Pete has a fear of water. He approaches the toilet with the fear of a first year being taken to the boys’ toilets by a group of bullies on the first day. Pete will do anything to avoid the one-eyed stare that is the abyss of the toilet bowl and he will twist, turn and loll about to avoid this watery torture.
And that’s not all, after the event Pete is roughly handled as he is squeezed into pants and zipped in- i the dark. Little wonder that he drools a little in the dark recesses of underwear where anything resembling an innocent stretch sees him feeling like he is in a straightjacket. There is only one place where Pete feels free, granted it is dark but he stretch himself till his heart is content and he can dispense liquid without fear of missing the target but this place, this dark place is, all to often, closed and jealously guarded by its owner.
And in all of this, not one mention of his conjoined “other half”, so tin_mum. Give the guys a break!
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Piss off! 😂
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