PEER PRESSURE

I don’t know exactly how to say this, so I’m just going to say it.

I peed in my eye this morning.

Yes, really. Okay – give me a second and I will explain. I’d just completed a less-than-satisfying strain atop the commode here at work and reached down to grab the garments hugging my ankles. As I rose from the pot, I pulled my boxers and jeans toward my waist. In doing so, the waistband of the boxers snagged my fleshy acorn on the ride up, causing it to snap back and slap my lower belly. This sudden motion freed a drop of urine that had been clinging to the inside of my urethra and sent it shooting like a liquid comet into my eyeball. I winced suddenly and rubbed my eye in disgust, cursing the misfortune of managing such an unlikely feat. In a thousand tries, I could not duplicate that perfectly orchestrated event. The odds against such a spectacular act ever occurring in the first place were so slim I knew I would have to share it with you – even if it meant admitting that I peed in my eye.

So there you have it.