So I’m in the men’s room of an office building this afternoon, you know, just hanging out and enjoying the smell of freshly rotated urinal puck, when a guy in a suit walks in and steps up to one of the urinals. He’s quiet, keeps to himself, just a guy in a suit in here to have a piss. Who, as soon as he starts pissing, starts talking. And here’s what he’s saying: “so how are we doing today? How are we doing today?”
Every possible explanation for this is funny.
Is this finely dressed gentleman actually chatting up his dick? Sadly not. However he does have a bluetooth headset on has answered a call while taking a piss (squashing my hopes for validation of my own penile chats), which is not only funnier to me, but also means that I’ve finally found one redeeming value to wearing those fucking bluetooth headsets in public. Not so that you can talk while you’re pissing, but so that you can amuse me by appearing to have a heart to heart with your dick, while you’re actually chatting with someone at your office, while simultaneously taking a fantastically loud piss. There is simply no way the person on the other end of the call could miss the sound of this guys thunderous urine stream echoing off the tiles. Made me realize I actually have a policy on this, and it’s one that I didn’t think it would ever be necessary to verbalize: if I have my dick in my hand, please leave a message.
I also finally get an answer to a question I want to ask every time I see someone sitting in a restaurant, or walking down the street, or shopping in the supermarket with one of those stupid things hanging in their ear, blinking that irritating blue light that says “look at me! I can answer the phone quickly and efficiently!” And that question is: “how fucking self important are you?” Apparently the answer is “really fucking self important.”
There are other questions that I think of too. Questions like “do you know how stupid you look wearing that at the beach?” and “why are you wearing that while you volunteer at a first grade field day since I know you don’t actually have a job in the afternoon and I can’t imagine anyone needs to get you so badly that they can’t wait for you to actually take your phone out of your pocket to answer it?” and “do you mind if I bury that in your head with this two by four?” But the whole self importance question, that one was always bugging me.
So driving home I was thinking about this guy chatting with office with his dick in his hand and for some reason it reminded me of an old Irish construction foreman I worked with in New York ages ago. Every time he’d see you for the first time that day he’d look at you and ask in a thick brogue: “how’s yer cock?”. And every time you were leaving he’d ask “why doncha go get a coupla blowjobs then come back ‘ere and give me one, eh?”
Dick humor: timeless.