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Sun 16 Jul, 2006 03:19 pm
.......Don't women pee funny!
I have just got back from a rather arduous journey on the M40, from Birmingham (Bearmingum, UK....not Birming-ham USA).
The first part of the journey was brilliant...90-100 mph, no traffic, the setting sun behind me and loud music blaring from the speakers.
About ten miles from home, it all ground to a halt....totally.
Obviously something had happened on the motorway up ahead, and there was now a massive tailback.
The driver in front of me switched off the engine, so I did the same, and before too long, it was pretty quiet apart from the odd car whooshing by on the other carriage way, going in the opposite direction.
Today has been pretty hot, for UK standards, at about 30c (86f) and as the engine had been turned off, the AC no longer worked and I started to get rather hot under the collar.
Several people had got out of their cars, so I opened the door and sat sideways in my seat, feet on the ground, trying to get whatever breeeze there was available. Pretty much zilch, actually.
The driver got out of the car in front, and opened the back door, reached in and after a while, brought out a very large, ugly looking baby.
Well, I suppose all kids are ugly up until the age of about three, so I'm guessing it was quite a normal baby, which had a fair set of lungs, as it was bawling for England.
The mum walked around with it for a while, patting its back...trying to get some duct tape over its mouth, that sort of thing.
She looked at me and rolled her eyes to heaven, and I nodded, acknowledging the fact that we were all trapped here, comrades in adversity and all that.
A minute or so later, I was up and stretching my legs, looking down the very long queue of traffic, looking for signs of movement. The mum came walking towards me, and asked if I knew what was going on. How the bloody hell would I know? Maybe she thought I was listening to the local radio or something, but I had my CD belting out at the time, so no, I couldn't enlighten her.
She continued to carry on a conversation about anything and everything, and the ugly blob had stopped bawling, and actually turned out to be a nice little chap of the Winston Churchill looking wrinkled variety.
After about ten minutes of this sort of forced conversation, I was aware that I was absolutely busting for a pee.
Being a hot day, I had drunk loads of fluid over the previous hour or so, and needed to go.....badly.
If the traffic didn't get moving soon, I would have a serious problem on my hands and in my trousers.
I started looking around as she was chatting, to see if there was somewhere on the embankment where I could hide behind, and let it all flow. Her words weren't registering at this point, and she was aware that I had my mind on other things.
I had to say, eventually, that I was busting for a pee, and she immediately said that she was going thorugh the same thing. It turns out that she had been looking round for another woman to hold her baby, while she went behind a bush.....not being able to find one, she chose ME as the baby minder. She didn't want to leave the kid in the car all alone, and had obviously sussed that I was a pretty "safe" sort of bloke.
Is that a compliment, I wonder?
And there I was, thinking it was my sexual allure.......
Of course I would hold her baby, I said, and being the true gentleman, even though my bladder was making "ping" noises, I offered the first pee to her.
She didn't hang around (she must have been as desperate as me) and plonked the baby into my arms and leapt off up the embankment, toward a group of small bushes.
She got halfway, and the kid started screaming for it's mum. She came back and the kid went quiet. She cuddled him for a minute or so, as I subtly leapt from one foot to another, silently pleading with her to get on with it, so I could go.
She tried once more, but the same thing happened.
Now...I didn't mind, but she obviously found it distressing, to leave her baby screaming in the arms of a stranger.
She decided to "go" in the hard shoulder of the motorway.
We were in the slow lane (left hand lane), next to the hard shoulder, and she opened both the front and rear left hand doors, to hide her from view.
By this time, several guys had made their way up the embankment for obvious reasons, and it just seemed the thing to do. The embarrassment factor seemed to go out of the window, and the only thing that was different for her, was that she was the only female in the immediate vicinity, I suppose.
So.... I stood there, facing the other way, baby looking over my shoulder at his mum, while she hid herself between the doors and went.
Now, getting to the subject matter of this thread...don't women make a funny noise?
Whoosh...silence....repeat as necessary.
Now MEN, when WE go, just think of relaxing a mysterious little muscle somewhere within, and peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee... one continous flow of joyousness. A couple of shudders, a few shakes and bob's yer uncle.
But women....they're weird. Why is that?
A few minutes later, she tried to hold a long distance conversation with me while my head stuck up above the bush...my eyes watering from relief.
She was (I think) telling me what the hold up was all about, but she quickly realised that it was an inappropriate moment to have a chat, and walked around her car, talking to her baby.
We got moving about ten minutes later, and we gave each other a wave as I indicated, and turned off the motorway about five miles down the road.
Funny things, us humans.
So..........anyone else have a "busting for a pee" story?
We practice snapping shut our man trap as we tiddle.
Story?
Hmmmmmm....well, I once had to pee down a wee little round hole in the floor of a small van (I do not know what the normal purpose of the little round hole was) in the pit area of a 6 hour endurance motorcycle race, which my beloved at the time was competing in (came second) while SURROUNDED by men, most of them complete strangers, while simultaneously craning my neck to peer through one of the van's windows and manipulating two stop watches stuck to a board, and starting one while stopping the other whenever beloved appeared at a particulart place on the circuit, and writing his times down (in case the judges got it wrong, like they were gonna believe ME).
This was the moment I discovered, oddly enough, that, when it came to pinpoint accuracy in such matters, where I really peed from was some small space below where I had previously THOUGHT I peed from, which was interesting and enlightening, but a little inconvenient.
What lash said.
Anyway.
I think I have a fairly normal pee pattern....if I squatting like this woman was, it's tightening muscles that are normally relaxed because we are taking a load off our feet.
Sometimes when I'm in a public restroom another female will come in and MY GOD, she will let loose a deluge that sound like she's throwing a bucket of water in the commode.
Some womens pee holes must be the size of a garden hose. jesus.
When the younger of my two sons was three years old, he was playing in his grandparent's back yard. Typical of little boys, he didn't want to take the time to go inside in order to pee. He asked his grandfather if he could just go outside into the salt marsh. He got the OK and proceeded to pee in a strong, golden arch remeniscent of the golden arches of McDonald's.
My stepfather turned to my mother and said, "I sure wish I could still do that." Apparently as men age, it becomes a little harder to keep the stream flowing freely.
I often think of this while doing my business.
There is a movie with George Segal...no idea which one, but it's one of those "guy getting older movies" and he is telling his buddy about when he was younger, while taking a whizz, he would chip the porcelain on the back of the urinal...now that's power...sometimes I let out a little giggle, when this crosses my mind...bit embarrassing when someone is near.
I think it was "Last Married Couple In America"
Yeh, but I like it, especially Elpy's lead-in.
Searching memory file...
My son, when he was little, suddenly whipped out the famous Ellpus todger in the garden one day, coiled it up so that it could be aimed more easily and peed on the rockery.
"Good grief, Ellpus the fifth" I exclaimed "You just can't pee in the garden!"
"Well, the dog does" came his reply.
Also, a friend of my brother once got the end of his thingy caught in the end of a can of coke, whilst trying to secretly pee on a london double decker bus.
He nicked it badly, and despite the copious use of bandaids over the next 24 hours, had to go to the doctors because it wouldn't stop bleeding.
The lady doc put some "plastic skin" spray on it, and it stung so much, he went all faint and she had to sit him down with his head between his knees.
My mum has a few of these stories as well, from her time as a nurse in A+E......one guy came in with head injuries, after pulling the chain which caused the wall mounted cistern to break free from its moorings and land on his head.
The Lord wrote: Also, a friend of my brother once got the end of his thingy caught in the end of a can of coke, whilst trying to secretly pee on a london double decker bus.
He was able to fit his thing into a can of coke? How is that possible? Just how big are the damn coke cans in England?
Or wait. Might it be that the English are less than well-endowed? But surely not to the extent that they could thrust their members into the opening of a coke can?
I am moving to England. I will be the Johnny Wadd of London.
I SHALL BE KING!!!!!
Thanks for passing that info along, Lord.
I just have to say that BBB completely missed the point of the thread.
This thread works faster than having the water run for a while....
cyphercat
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