Many moons ago, as hubby and wife we'd be sitting somewhere - both observing something. She'd have her head turned far left or far right, something weird would happen and she'd immediately look at me - as I was staring straight ahead. "I know" I'd say - and repeat what it was she just looked at. We men see well outta the corner of our eyes. As days turned to months, months to years - later I'd simply say "athletes have good peripheral vision." (Remember, I, like Al Bundy, played High School football, so that naturally entitles me to use the word 'athlete'.
Back to urinals. I swear on a stacka bibles there ain't a gay bone (No pun intended)in my body. But, after so many damn years of peeing in the presence of others - ya simply pickup on things, and yes, the peripheral vision helps.
First rule. If there are three or more urinals (and they're all empty) you pick one where the next chap could come in and you wouldn't have to stand beside each other. If the new guy DOES happen to use the one next to you (leaving the far one open) - it's then time to worry.
There are many standing styles for men ata urinal. There's the stand straight and tall - usually a boring accountant or something. There's the leaner - he's either partially inebriated - or - he's very proud of himself and wants to share and tell with his urinal buddies. The liberal - he generally stands there stooped, oblivious to the nervousness of situation.
There's the urgasm guys.. WHY men make noise sometimes when they pee I dunno, but some do. And honestly, sometimes their gush compels them to openly, loudly, have urgasms. Eww.
The "ahhhhhhhhhhhhh" guys. You've been there. You've driven allover town having to pee so bad you wonder if you'll make it.. and when you finally pullover into the nearest Mickey D's, you race to the throne and hope your zipper beats the first tinkle - and then you follow with "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh".. and life is good.
The "cow birthers". These are the sonofabitches you hate. Ya never know when ya got one - but when they go to pee, they bend their arm at the wrist - and they stick that whole sucker in there to pull out the behemoth, and it's truly as if they were birthing a calve. I hate 'em. Why God, why? These cow birthers generally lean forward a bit (bastards) and then they literally flop it. All stare straight ahead and don't dare to look down - but we're all thinking the same thing: We hate your guts.
Most skinny, upright fellers are tweezer kinda guys. They generally try to block the view of others with their arms and the urinal - they bend their index finger and thumb, piddle for awhile trying to find it - and they pee and get the hell out just as quickly as they came in. The dreaded disease, shortpeckeritis. Poor bastards.
Arkansans are easy to spot. The come in all sizes, but they'll all generally lift one heel off the ground as they pee - and you can be assured it's time to hi-tail it as silent flatulence soon follows. (New Jerseyians are similar, except they will include the loud, ugly fart noises without a care to whomever is next to 'em.)
Bars, restaurants nowadays have made this task (community urinal sharing) a bit easier - as they've placed advertisements on the wall at eye level - and I've even seen copies of the local newspaper stapled to the wall for pee-reading.
Pro football urinals. Hog trough is a fitting name. You have one humongously long trough. During the busy times (between quarters, at the half) they're filled up twenty across - and there's generally a line three-deep doing the pee pee dance behind them. Muchlike football itself - need-ta-pee types will scoot in and out, left and right when a vacancy finally opens. You hate the pee-a-river types, for they will stand there and stand there peeing - no end in sight.
Quick flickers. You know, when you're finished and ya wanna make sure all the pee pee is off your pee pee. Most just give it a quick flick. Some, I haven't the foggiest idea why, but some will get on their tippy toes and come down with a plop - I guess it helps get the pee pee off the pee pee. The cow birthers. Again, these endowed MF's will put their entire GD hand on it, whip it up four inches, down four, back up four, and finally down - and then they stuff it away. The type to worry about is the... well, I ain't got no other term for it than the m-bater flickers. They actually don't flick - instead they emulate... you know.. and they seemingly enjoy this end to their term at the urinal. I'm always leary of these Joe's.
If you go out on the weekend, long about 11pm - if you're in the community urinal, there's a good chance you'll run into a couple of pipsqueeks who follow with conversation like this: "WOW" the one on the left says... continuing "this water is COLD" (as if his make believe huge pecker is drooping clear down into the urinal).. "Yeah" the buddy will chime in.. "it's DEEP too!" Dreamers - we call 'em.
That's about all I can peripherally relate about life at the urinal. It ain't really fun - it's a have to. It can be interesting though. Jokes can be overheard, you can listen to whomever they feel is the hottest chick in the joint.. You can catch up on the Sport's page.. and.. if you're alone - you can pretend it's a pistol and you're at the target range - or whatever...
Tune in tomorrow where we'll talk about poopals. Or shitals. If they call places where you urinate urinals, why ain't their poopals? Shitals? Deficals? Happy day from a real stand up guy, love, Victurd
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