Standing Tall

I'm not saying I'm tall. 'Cuz I'm not. But at least I can say I'm tall enough to have kids. That's a good thing...

The standing tall is how I've decided to being this recounting of today's infamy. I am infamous for this sort of activity...

Unbeknownst to me, I put a pair of roomy (meaning the elastic died and went to saggy heaven) boxer shorts on this morning. So, clean, but old, which 50% of the time defines me!

Later in the morning, what with the 24 ounces of premium Diet Coke I'd consumed with my bangers & mash, I had to pee. So as I am always one to yield to my baser urges, I went.

And I go in and unzip and then spend a ludicrous amount of time trying to get in touch with myself. But with my boxer shorts on backwards, the effort was essentially futile.

I did this once before, in high school. And the memory came rushing back. Unlike this morning, when it happened in high school I was not alone. The young man standing to my right, George Wield, watched me struggling for maybe a minute and then made this offer... "Would it help if I could find you some tweezers?"

Okay, another quick memory: I'm working for a big company out at the east edge of Beverly Hills, where Wilshire and San Vicente come together. There's a place called Cathay Circle... It's the first time that I've had 'out of the closet' gay co-workers, which for a hick Mormon kid was a pretty big thing. I got teased outrageously by the gay guys because I'd get so embarrassed. So finally it happened that one of them had to go take a leak at the same time I did. I walked in behind him. Not wanting to seem a bigot, I took the urinal next to him. He'd already started peeing. As I was beginning the process involved in voiding one's bladder, he looked over at me (well, over and down) and said, "Well, helllooo there!" I zipped right back up and left.