Just One Of The Many Experiences I Have Every Time I Try To Use A Public Urinal.

Living life as a socially awkward individual has both its merits and downfalls, and it's a life that I've happily lived thus far. Recently though, I had one of the typical experiences that a socially awkward individual finds himself in fairly regularly, and I decided to detail it in my blog.

No, don't get grossed out, now – I'm sure you'll enjoy it, and I'm equally sure that it won't be nearly as disgusting or as visual as you're imagining.

Now, please, with that in mind feel free to read on if you so desire.

After walking around a shopping centre for the best part of half an hour with a gradually swelling bladder (okay, so maybe I lied about it not being visual. Go ahead and shoot me.) I decided that if I didn't make it to a public bathroom soon, I might just explode, showering my fellow shoppers in a delightful combination of urine and gore.

Generally, I try to avoid public bathrooms in order to avoid situations such as the one that I'll detail below.

Here's how it played out:

I crept into the bathroom sneakily, peering around and sharing a delightful smile with the mirror at the lack of occupants in the bathroom.

 

Excellent, there's nobody else around. Should be easy, out just as quickly as I came in.

Taking a final look around the room and reassuring myself that nobody else is watching, I step forward and settle myself in front of a urinal, unzipping my fly as I do so.

The door opens abruptly.

Suddenly, I feel cold. I'm praying to every god under the sun (generally I don't do prayer, but I consider this a situation in which I can make exceptions.) Please, please choose a stall instead of another urinal, I just-

The stranger promptly moves up to the urinal next to me.

Cheers for that one, God..Okay, so this'll be okay, all I have to do is just stare straight ahead at the dirty white tiles in front of me and pee. I'm busting anyhow, this really shouldn't be too diffic- is that shit on the tile in front of me?

I squint at the tile.

Yup, that's shit alright. How the hell did someone manage to get shit-

  

The new occupant starts to urinate. In the dirtily tiled bathroom, his arrogant and confident stream does nothing but draw attention to the fact that, despite that I was standing at the urinal before he arrived, I'm clearly not urinating.

Fuck. He can hear me not peeing..He KNOWS! Ugh, I'll just have to try not to think about it, just focus on-

“What's up, dude?”

Fucking hell. People who talk while urinating should be lynched.

“Umm..Nothing much mate.”

What the fuck does it look like I'm up to? Hosting a party in The Bahamas?

“Haha oh yeah, sick lad.”

Oh great, and now he's a bogan on top of it all. This conversation really should just be illegal, full stop.

I look up from my dick, smiling gingerly.

Why the fuck am I smiling at him while he's peeing? That's just creepy! ..Body, it'd be really good if you started peeing right about now, things are starting to get REALLY awkward.

“Crazy weather, aye?”

Fuck it, I give up.

I shake away my invisible urine in order to make my ruse seem a lot more legitimate than it's seemed so far, rushing out of the bathroom without even washing my hands.

Gah, I must be the only human being not able to go to the bathroom in front of someone knowing that they know that I can't do it.

Now, in justification of my arguably weird thought process, there's honestly not much else to do in a public restroom than evaluate your surroundings, and it just so happened that in this case, my surroundings happened to be a bunch of tiles with shit smeared all over them, and a (possibly) drunken bogan who seemed happy to chat to me while I attempted to pee.

Of course, if I was a betting man, I'd bet that he hadn't even realised what was going on in my little mind, what with being too busy concentrating on urinating...Something that, for some reason, I just can't do in the company of other men.

Not even Jesus could help me with that shit.

JESUS, I PRAYED. I FUCKING PRAYED, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REWARD ME?

Then again, if you really want to analyse that situation, analyse the ideology behind urinals in the first place: what genius came up with the idea of putting two men standing inches away from one another with their penises in their hands, trying not to stare at each other?

Satan personified, that's who.

Religious Meetings Are Just Funerals In Practise For The Real Deal.

Yawn..Morning, readers. How are we all today?

Tired? Dreading Monday?

Good stuff. I've got just the thing for you.

What is it, you may ask? 

The answer, dear reader, is simple: Church. Or rather, a story about it.

Before you race to the end of this post to hit me up with a raging comment detailing your newly found dislike of me due to my religious posting..Just hold on a moment, before you let your inner troll loose.

Unsurprisingly to those who know me, I would never try to convert someone to a religion. Fact is, I have quite the distaste for religion.

So no, I'm not trying to convert you, I'm regaling with one of my more recent churchly experiences. But first, you'll need a bit of background information:

I come from quite a religious family. In saying that, my mother is the main religious family member, whilst the rest of the family basically follow her lead in it all.

Me? I don't buy it.

There was a time when I rolled in it delightfully like a dog in shit, mainly right up to grade nine. After that, I veered away from it all pretty quickly, questioning the legitimacy of various biblical stories.

That's never stopped my parents from dragging me along to church and punishing me when I rebel against it all, though...Especially when I go about “corrupting” of the church's innocent youngsters..Tehehehe..;)

Anyway, back to the story. Today I was dragged along by my father (at my mother's bequest, of course) to a popular Christian group that meets once every few months, commonly known by the local community as “Men's Breakfast.”

On the way there, I realised that rather than fighting against going, perhaps going would achieve three things:

•  Give me something to laugh about with friends a few days later.

• Stop my parents and their religious nattering, at least for a little while.

• Give me something new to blog about.

And that brings me to the true beginning of my narration of “Men's Breakfast.”

First Impressions: A sea of bald and/or balding heads greeted me unenthusiastically from the door. Clearly, hair regrowth treatment is a foreign concept to Baptists and Anglicans alike.

Fifteen Minutes In: By now I'm offered food. As I start tucking into baked beans, a half scrambled egg and overcooked bacon unenthusiastically, I glance to my left and treat myself to the delightful view of an elderly man taking out his false teeth..He looks like he's about to drop off his perch at any moment.

Thirty Minutes In: If I hear the sentence “Jesus saved us” one more time, I think I'll start tearing out my hair. Then again, perhaps I've just discovered why most of the people in here are bald..

Forty Five Minutes In: I've taken to looking at the fingernails of the old people around me for entertainment. There are some real shockers here, that's for sure.

An Hour In: Okay, so my life is now changed forever. Changed forever in that I've lost an hour of it that I'll never get back.

 I think you've got the picture.

But why are so many old people religious? Well, judging from the smell of imminent death in that room, I'll go out on a limb and suggest that perhaps it's because they're not so far from the age in which the bible was written in the first place.

Conclusion: Old people like to congregate to celebrate their impending death, gumming their food together amid a chorus of “Jesus saved us.”

Religious congregations are just funerals in practice for the real thing – there's a reason they're always looking for new blood, and if you ask me, it's generally just because they want a good turnout for the real deal.