Tuesday, May 25, 2010

The Piss Whisperer

Okey Dokey.  Here's the scenario:

Last Saturday, the wife and I decided to head out to a nearby outdoor antique and craft stuff market. Yes, I do realize the implications of voluntarily attending one of those things, but in my defense, it is the best place that I've ever come across for getting maple syrup and maple syrup trumps just about everything.  We ended up stopping at a vendor who was selling cutting boards that were made from a variety of different woods.  Being a very, very amateur carpenter I was interested in the different woods and some of he guy's techniques.  My wife's interest level was somewhat less than mine and so her focus began to wander some ... Until ...

She noticed an older "gentleman" who had wandered back behind the line of vendor tables and up to a small copse of trees and bushes.  His objective then became clear.  With the set of Port-o-Potties being a whole 37 feet away, the old bugger felt compelled to answer the call of nature at the closest wooden phone booth.  The story gets worse ... but luckily not for me, just my wife, I was still engaged in the fortunate chat.

There was a sound, some sort of ordinary noise that happens all the time at an outdoor market.  I didn't even notice it myself BUT apparently it was some sort of gunshot to the ears of the old guy.  Of course it was "house-on-fire" urgent that the old fart turn around to find the source of the aforementioned noise.  One thing that didn't cross his mind as he turned around was: STOP FUCKING PEEING!!!!!!  Never mind the fact that he did an about face with his wrinkly junk in his hand in the first place.

What the hell was going through his head, "Oh , was that some sort of completely ordinary, random noise?  It obviously must be for me, definitely something that I need to attend to immediately."  I'm thinking that that was waaay the wrong moment to be too freakin' nosey.

I don't know about you, but if I'm gonna be out in the world in any capacity and I suddenly feel the need to pull up a tree or a wall to relieve myself, it's gonna take something like a bear attack to break me away from the task at hand.

There's no way in hell that I'm gonna be able to come up with the kind of money that's going  to be necessary to finance my wife's therapy.  How am I ever going to be able to get near a tree without my wife giving me the stink-eye?

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