If you’re doing it lefthanded, you’re doing it backwards. You lefties always look like you’re mining for gold in your pants when you’re standing in front of a urinal.
You guys seem to use a “dig and grab” protocol which is much less elegant and graceful than the procedure I outlined earlier. Tighty-wighties were designed for right-handed operation. Of course, boxers are still far superior.
<aside>The so-called boxer briefs work the same way as tighty-whiteys, and thus are an abomination. </aside>
I’m always happy to provide assistance, Ellen*. Let me know when the kid starts driving. I’ve got a whole big bunch of advice for that situation too.
Note the lack of funky coding. I only do that in the Rue threads.
I’m not left-handed, I’m right-handed. Which is why I’m shocked at your implication that you hold & aim with your left.
It’s not at all ‘dig and grab’. It’s simple. Unzip. Insert left hand, in a right to left motion, with hand curved so that palm faces outward (outside of hand faces my body). Once hand is properly positioned, just pivot it (with my fingers against my left inner thigh) so that the palm is now against my abdomen. With left hand in that position holding open the hatch, right hand is free to grab & aim. Simple as can be. Like I said – I really can’t picture doing it any other way.
I’ve actually witnessed the “left-handed swoop” where the dude just burrowed in there and excavated his best friend. That’s just not acceptable behavior.
Your method, while acceptable, requires two hands. Unless your zipper is installed in reverse, as if you were in Europe or some other stupid, irrelevant place. Like the OP, for instance.
My method, on the other hand (snicker), only requires one hand, and is far more efficient and less time consuming.
This allows you to complete your business in a more timely manner, and leaves a free hand for punching out random drunks who decide to nag you for a cigarette at the urinal when you are obviously busy and have no interest in being bothered like what happened to me yesterday.
I’m right, you’re wrong, shut up about it. You big baby.
At the appointed hour, all of the men troop off to the bathroom in a huge crowd, leaving dozens upon dozens of women confused. That’s just not male behaviour.
Once in the men’s room, there will be demonstrations of the proper way to use a urinal whilst not going commando. I’m sure there will be a couple of demonstrations on how not to get caught in the zipper of jeans, too.
andygirl, do you know of any specific gay code attached to “walking around the men’s room with your dick hanging out of your pants”? Maybe this dude was cruising for sex too, in his own, unique way.
I used to be able to piss a distance of ten to twelve feet (I measured once). I can’t do it any more, I think it had something to do with the fact that I was going through puberty and always erect.
In case anybody is wondering Coldies nickname came about because it is rumoured that his penis is so big that he could put a sock and a wooden clog on it…and that’s the rest of the story about our beloved Clogboy…
Years ago I worked as a tech in a laboratory owned and operated by the Malaysian government. Needless to say, there were a lot of Malaysian dudes at this place.
We had this little shower room with toilet and sink. We needed it because a few of the processes involved mixing carbon back and you needed a shower after messing with that shite.
Anyway, the first time I had to use the shower, guess what I’m faced with when I get out, all dripping and naked and vulnerable?
A fully clothed, unzipped Malaysian dude, washing his dick in the sink!
OH…MY…GOD. I was fully dressed and back in my lab in 10 seconds. Didn’t trouble the towel * at all* that day!
When I told the other Brit guys, they just laughed and said I would get used to it! It was a religious thing, apparently.
Once they had had stopped laughing and I had calmed down a bit, I realised there was another weird aspect to the situation. The schlong washing guy didn’t have a towel! My towel was the only one hanging up in the room! If I had of been a few minutes longer in the shower, the dirty bastard would have dried his - albeit clean and shiny - trouser snake on my towel!
Not being properly equipped to have urinal stories, I will share a story about piss.
When I close at the store where I work, I always end up being the one to clean the bathrooms. Nobody else will do it. Usually it’s not a big deal, but then a week or two ago I was emptying the garbage can in the girl’s room, and discovered that the bottom of the bag was full of urine.
Whenever we are out in some bar or restaurant or someplace, if Mrs legion and I have to take a whiz, she often regales me with horror stories about how disgusting the ladies loo was. Yet I usually find the gents pretty clean and tidy!
I worked in a resturant and I would alwasy show up before the staff and clean the floors and bathrooms. I can say in the 3 years of cleaning the womans bathroom was a bigger mess than the mens 90% of the time.
The worse being when some drunk took her tampon out and slung blood all over the fricking walls in the stall leaving the bloody rag resting on the flush handle.
In the days before fast food restrooms and clean service station restrooms were abundant, one of my mother’s friends had to make a pit stop on a road out in the country. Her husband pulled the car over and she stepped just out of sight to squat. After she finished she was trying to stand up and pull her panties back up. But she was on a slight incline and toppled forward making what I will call a “splashdown” landing.
I don’t know which was funnier – the picture that painted in my mind or hearing my 90 year old mother gasping for breath from laughing as she retold the story fifty years later.
You all have made my day with this thread and I have jerked a knot in my back from laughing so hard!
I live for moments like this (well, not live exactly) so I can use the line:
I used to think you were crazy, but now I can see your nuts…
Or am I the only one that thinks that is funny?
When my parents took us out to eat once we were all sitting in the car (3 girls, all very naive and sheltered) and we look over to see an intoxicated man exit a bar, unzip his pants and proceed to pee on a truck’s tire, then he shuffled off, his limp penis flapping in the lazy breeze…total silence in our car, my mother’s ears were a peculiar shade of tomato red, my father clearing his throat muttering “um…so…um…gee…” the 3 very naive and sheltered girls still fogging up the back window trying to get a peek at the drunken man’s urinator…not one word was spoken…could have been an opening for a sex talk, but not with my parents…
Also can I be the first to say “Prehensile Penis” could be a band name?
Margo
