In Matthew McConaughey’s book Greenlights, he tells the story of a pissing contest involving his dad and brother. Not a figurative pissing contest, mind you -- a literal one.
“You see that mark on the wall Mr. Fred just left?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Think you can piss over it?”
“Hell yeah,” Pat replied, then dropped his tighty-whities below his knees, put both hands on his pecker, aimed it at the mark, and let if fly. Pat cleared Fred Smither’s six-seven mark by two feet.
“That’s my boy!! I told y’all my boy could piss over Fred’s head!”
Now that I am a man of a certain age, I wont be challenging anyone to a pissing contest. My stream aint what it used to be. It’s sad when a young man beside me at the urinal starts blasting away with his fire hose, finishes, and then the next guy starts and finishes while I’m still dribbling.
Yeah I’m seeing a urologist about it. And I’ve seen the future and it aint pretty. When my dad got old he couldn’t completely empty his bladder. So he had a procedure done to fix it. Now my father-in-law is having plumbing problems. He gets backed up for days, goes to the ER, gets a catheter, and then walks around with a bag of piss strapped to his leg. Gettin’ old aint for cowards!
I complained when my wife bought a new garden hose without my input. But I gotta say it’s a good one. Now most evenings you will find me slinging my hose around watering the flowers, shrubs, and trees – even seeing how high up the side of my house I can spray. Who me overcompensate? Nah, just keep livin’!
No comments:
Post a Comment