Song Of The Day: FM / Steely Dan
Word Of The Day: Deracinated / 1, To pull out by the roots; uproot. 2, To displace from one's native or accustomed environment.
I drink a lot. I don't mean alcohol, I'm an infrequent and rather temperate (compared to my adolescence, esp) boozer. However, I put back the coffee in great volume, I mean, I'm half embarrassed-wait it's passing, oh... it's gone, I don't give a fuck what you think- to say this, but I start my day with a huge ass glass of ginger tea, then I go to the coffee shop and literall order two of their largest coffees with double or triple shots of espresso in each one. That's right, by 11am I've had minimum of four shots of espresso and two large coffees. After the tea. Don't kid yourself, 95% of my gazelle-like reflexes are native to my Danish genes, but a nuclear blast of caffeine ain't hurting my cause any. Once I hit noon, I usually have another big ass tea, or drink a shit load of water, or something that will actually hydrate me. Although I want to take a moment and underline the MYTH that says coffee causes dehyrdation. Check the recent issue of National Geographic, check out the book Buzz and relax into the fact that coffee DOESN'T dehydrate you, it IS awesome as heck, and we SHOULD consume it in outrageous, addictive quanta because the fucker is the last, best hope we have for maintaining a safe vice. *takes a sip from his triple espresso extra dark roast vat of adrenaline*.
Like I said, by noon I switch over to water or something that will bring me down a bit. I drink a bunch of that, then just before dinner I switch to diet coke. I usually have between two and four diet cokes. Now, diet coke IS bad for you, i know that. Much worse for me than coffee. But what are you gonna do? Would you rather I snorted cocaine off a hooker's tits and drank Tequila from her shoe, or have a few Diet Coke's with my wife each night? Yeah. Thought so. After Dinner I have some tea and water again, and sometimes a Gatorade or something. The point is, in the course of a day I drink lots and lots of liquid. I just love liquids. Love 'em caffeinated, pure, flavored, bare, and everything in between.
BUT...
they make me have to piss all the time. I feel like I spend half the day pissing, and there's not always a willing recipient around to pee onto, so most of my evacuations are the boring, normal variety of non-sexual bio-function. I just don't have time to interupt my flow all the time and run to some bathroom because it's a social convention to piss in porcelain pot. Who cares? I piss out the door of my studio all day long, I pee in bottles, I pee in the sink, and if I'm close and it's convenient, I will pee in a toilet. If I'm a visitor at your house, oh say for a dinner party, and I excuse myself to use the restroom, odds are I'm whizzing in your tub or shower, no reason, I just like the room and the extra wide opening, don't feel like I can miss, and it's a liability you should consider before asking me over. As I was saying, I pee all day long, that's what happens when you drink fluid all day long. Adult diapers? Just look heinous. I don't even wear underwear, much less diapers. Let the drip fall where it may, I'm not bulking up my vertical line just so I can walk around in my own pee-pillow all day. I watch my daughter do it every day and it looks uncomfortable and weird.
The real problem arises at night, because my body keeps on processing after I go to sleep, and I end up having to piss like -minimum- two or three times a night. I fall asleep, I get up, I fall asleep, I get up. I get tired of it, especially since my bathroom is like 40 feet from my bed. You have to walk to the other end of the house, and although our house is small, this walk occurs in night-dream-pee time, so it's taffy, it stretches on and on and on. Last night, when I woke up and realized I had to pee for the fucking THIRD time in the last four hours, I got...well, pissed. I was like "FUCK THIS. What am I, a nomad or something, with all this walking and pissing? What am I the night-piss watchman at the Whiz bank? This is BULLSHIT." I searched around for a solution. It was 4:30 AM, and my wife was sleeping, but you can never be sure with her, she wakes up at 5am everyday, so it was cutting it close, and she's already forbidden me from peeing into bottles by the bed. I've tried again and again to explain the historical merits of a "chamber pot", but she's unwavering on this one. Well, last night I was simply not going to make another piss-gramage across the house. I noticed our windows were open in the bedroom, and they were about crotch-level. The only potential problem? Screens were IN place. There is a lot I don't understand about screens, like how much wind passes through them, how much light they will block, and, it turns out, how much fluid will pass through them. My GUESS, last night at 4:30 am, is that a stream of urine would pass right through one of those babies, hardly affected at all, one golden arc magically flowing right through the thin metal mesh, and landing in its proper spot out on the lawn. OK, sidewalk, but the important thing is OUTSIDE the house.
I really had to pee. I had one of those half-piss boners, my weener was pretty damn engorged, all fattened up from the promise of another pee. I wasn't sexually aroused, aside from the titillating quality of any and all urinations -they do involve touching the Sword- but just had to pee. At this hour of the night, I did not realize I was vulnerable to a clash of quadrants. My upper-left quadrant (intra-subjective world) was ready to enact a plan that was destined to fail in the lower-right quadrant (the inter-objective world). My brain was still almost dreaming, scheming this streaming, steaming, gleaming disposal of urine. I decided peeing out the screen was a good idea. I got up, tried to be super quiet in order to not wake my wife, and I let fly with a hot stream of piss right into the screen. My feeling was it was crucial to COMMITT to this process, that the real danger would be in some half-hearted, pussy ass effort of fear in pissing at the screen. To break through with a clean stream, I had to TAKE CHARGE, and take charge I did. I pissed full force into the metal grid. And so began the SPLASH.
It turns out you can't piss "through" a screen anymore than you can stop pissing once you start. And so, I spent about 60 seconds last night wizzing all over the inside of my house, all over the inside of the widow sill, all over the carpet beneath the window, all over my legs, and all over the inside of the screen. It was instantly apparent my plan was doomed, but like the desperate fool I was, once the pee began to splash back at me, I kept moving the pee stream around on the screen, as though there might be some "sweet spot" on the screen where the piss actually would pass through, if I could find that opening. None was forthcoming, and as I searched for that spot, my anxiety grew. My wife stirred in bed, and I knew what was coming. I pushed harder, dammit, needing to get rid of all the pee NOW, NOW, moments from being discovered. I was about 80% done when my wife rolled over, squinted at the silhouette of me standing squarely in front of the window at 4:31 in the AM, and said:
"Whaaa.... what are you DOING?"
Like the stealthy pro I am, I instantly moved over to the bed side table, pee still dripping out of my doink, the last sporadic squirts of urine splashing on my leg, the wall, the carpet, but I knew -I KNEW- my wife would be too out of it to detect that evidence. It was out of her line of site, and she was too cloudy from sleep, so I recovered instantly, convincingly, when I said flatly with total conviction:
"Just opening the window and getting some earplugs from my drawer."
"Huh?"
"Yeah, you've been farting, so I opened the window more."
"Oh."
"Yeah, don't worry about it honey, just go back to sleep. I love you."
"Mmm. I love you too."
And with that, I crawled back into bed and rolled around a bit on the sheets to wipe off my dripping dong, and smiled as I drifted back to sleep, knowing the score was now:
Davis = ONE, Nature = ZERO.
