Of course then they always have to bring up the fact that men can and will urinate anywhere; therefore, we have nothing to gripe about. The reality is that woomun seem to forget that it was God's design and good luck taking it up with Him. What so few women realize is this pain in my right ass cheek right now as I type... My wallet.
You see, I strongly conjunct that this may have been an overlooked design flaw. However, reality persuades me to "persunctify" that perhaps it was a trade off for us having a universal toilet. I am ever grateful that I can drop my fly and shake the dew off my lily anytime, anywhere, on anything - irregardless of the laws surrounding "public urination". The thrills are unending when it comes to peeing on things and I feel a strong sense of accomplishment when I write Amy's name in the snow. How many of you can take a leak off the side of a train at 30 miles per hour? That's a tremendous feat especially considering you have to adjust for the wind and rocking motion. Nothing is worse than washing your face with what your body no longer needs - I have proof.
My point is, girls babble on and on about this unique feature men have been given and I wish to reveal the trade off... Wallets in the back pocket. Have any of you lassies ever taken your hubbies wallet, shoved in your butt pocket and walked around with it? Have you ever tried driving with one tucked between your derriere and the car seat for more than two hours? Imagine sitting on one during a full-out Catholic wedding with the whole mass, ceremony and whatever else the man throws in for free.
Sitting on a wallet is to men as menstrual cramps and quite possibly contractions are to women. Oh but the wise woomun say, "Well why don't you just set it down beside you or tuck it in your coat or something witty along those lines in a futile attempt to belittle you and make you feel inferior to the pain and suffering women endure for the sake of your unending pleasure?"
Why I don't stash it in my coat:
1.) It's unnatural feeling. My buttocks is highly tuned and accustomed to the feel of "genuine leather",
2.) Coats without zippered pockets are not anybodies friend - nor are mittens without string, and
3.) Matches, Zippo, knife, mints, pen, paper and compass. All are accessories to my boy scout preparedness and there is no room for compromise, nor carry-on in my pockets. No exceptions.
Why I don't stash my wallet in the front pocket of my jeans:
1.) Fashion wise - because it looks horrendously faggy,
2.) There has been incidental pinching of the nether region in times past, and
3.) As sure as I don't want to see the boxers that some dumbass ghetto wannabe kid is wearing - I'm sure you don't want to be distracted by the ginormenos wallet bulge on the front of my Levi's.
I remember the three most liberating days of my life:
1.) The day I gave my life to Jesus Christ,
2.) The day I switched over to boxers, and
3.) Our trip to Quebec City where I was so worried I didn't know how to yell, "STOP! THIEF!" in French, that I only carried my debit card, VISA, and cash in my front pocket. No wallet.
It was awkward not having that familiar jiggle in my ass... Sooooo, either way, it was very enjoyable being able to sit everywhere not having to do the, "spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch" routine when I stood up. Strangely, and I mean peculiarly strangely to the Star Trek Deep Space Nine degree, I never once did take a leak in public the entire time we were in Quebec City. This therefore proves that our ability to piss on anything, anytime, anywhere is directly correlated to the hardships we as men must endure for sitting on a wallet.
No wallet, no pissing on the fence.
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