This morning at work, I was taking a well-deserved break on my favorite toilet, and saw that someone had left a copy of the NY Post. Unfortunately, it was from August 5. No idea how it made it into the bathroom a month and a half later, but it was all I had. I got all caught up in the Scott Peterson murder case. Turns out he subscribed to the Playboy Channel two weeks after his wife was killed.

GUILTY!

Nothing says "I killed my wife" quite like subscribing to porn. This case seems pretty cut and dry. He dyed his hair, played golf and watched pornography. Why are we still wasting tax payers' money on this case? Fry the fuck.

In more current news, the president is staying at the hotel across the street from where I work. I'm going to try to hang out with him. Maybe he'll let me sleep over. How cool would that be? My favorite part would be when George W. Bush calls room service and asks if they could bring up a cot for me. We'd play PlayStation and buy a movie. Maybe Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle will already be on their movies list. If not, I'll buy a bootleg off the street.

While that most likely won't happen, the president has already affected my day. I need to mail some shit, but the mail boxes have been all locked up so people don't put bombs in them. Just another reason to vote for John Kerry. "As president, I will NOT lock mailboxes when I am in the city and you are already late in sending your student loan payment."

What bullshit. George Bush locking mailboxes. So conceited.

"Look at me. I'm the president. I'm afraid of assassins. I'm on the phone. Hi, is this New York? I'm going to be up there in a couple of days and I'd like to inconvenience everyone. Do you have a Triple A discount? No? How about AA? Ha ha. I'm just kidding. I used to drink. Anyway, I'd also like extra towels because it takes a lot to dry my big Texan balls. Also, make sure you lock up the mailboxes. If there's one thing I hate, it's mailboxes that are accessible."



In another bathroom related story for today (actually, it may have been on the same trip as this morning), while I was finishing up in there, a co-worker came in to pee. He always pees in the first stall - never in the urinal. So he was standing there, but I could hear that there was no pee. He was trying to pee, but couldn't. I suppose he had some stage fright. I saw him standing there seemingly quite uncomfortable. I think he was trying to do other stuff to take his mind off of it. He was fumbling with some toilet paper.

I felt bad for him. I've been there. I used to get stage fright, but I'm better now. Not sure how I overcame it, but all of the sudden, I can pee whenever I feel, in front of everyone. It's all about feeling comfortable with yourself. So to make this co-worker of mine feel more comfortable while he peed, I got behind him and tickled the heck out of him.

And pee he did!

That's a lie. I didn't tickle him. I did put my hands on his shoulders and gave him a little rub down. He was peeing in no time.

Another lie.

I did, however, say, "Can't tinkle, huh? That used to happen to me. You know how I cured it? I yell really loudly, 'Come on penis! Let's get this pee out! Come on bladder! Shove it down the urethra! Push it baby! Push it! Get out here, pee! I want to see you in all your yellowness, or perhaps you are clear today because I'm drinking a lot of water.' And then I'll chant, 'Ur-i-nate! Ur-i-nate! Ur-i-nate! Who wants Mike to ur-i-nate? I do! I do! I do! Pisssssssss! Pissssssss!' That usually does the trick."

That was also a lie. I didn't do anything. I just quietly walked out and let him pee in peace (or peece).

Well, that's all I have for you today.

Love,
Mike