Well, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, this is mainly due to nothing happening in the jobless lead up to emigrating to America.
Have I mentioned that I’m moving to Las Vegas?
No, I probably haven’t….over and over and over again.
Anyway, last night my wife and I were at a restaurant rubbing our joy in people’s faces when I decided to visit the restroom (yes, I said ‘restroom’; I’m getting into practice because I know Americans will have difficulty with ‘bog’, ‘carsey’, ‘gents’ and probably even ‘lavatory’ and ‘toilet’).
I walked into the bathroom (still practicing) and walked to the urinals.
Ladies, there is an unwritten rule that you never stand next to another man having a piss unless you have no choice; you should always leave a space of at least one urinal between you.
Well, I had no choice on this visit as there were three urinals and the middle one was occupied. There’s nothing more comfortable and lacking in awkwardness than standing shoulder to shoulder with another man holding his penis.
Thankfully as I started taking care of business, he concluded his and began to zip up his fly.
I wasn’t watching him by the way, but I was so close to him I would’ve been able to tell you how much change he had in his pocket.
However, this guy was taking forever to do such a simple task. This was mostly because he’d undone every fucking button on his jeans, including his belt, so he was now painstakingly taking forever to sort himself out.
Come on man, learn how to use your fly. You only need to undo a few buttons to unleash the beast.
To drink juice from a carton, you open up a flap at the top to get at the contents; you don’t open the entire thing at the seams!