Recently I laced ‘em up with my posse, grabbed my Slayer Greatest Hits Tape and headed off to a local MMA event. It should be noted that I was only a spectator, for the record I only tussle in parallelograms. Obviously the king of the MMA domain is testosterone. Walking around the arena it’s kosh to double fist brews, talk ass kickin’, pop knuckles, and flex ones traps. I had this dialed in, that is until nature called. With the large beer sales, naturally there was a line to the John. When my number got called the only available urinal was the totally exposed junior flush on the end. I’m not exactly a giant but the toilet seemed lower than current 30 year fixed rates.
“You can do this…stay focused don’t go Sahara here.” I thought to myself.
Normally I don’t succumb to stage-fright, but with the elevated state of masculinity and the wannabe floor drain I was peeing into, things began to look drier than the sense of humor on this blog.
“Hoover Dam, Yosemite Falls, Global Warming.” I though of as I tried to turn the faucet on. All to no avail.
Then I remembered a quote I’d seen recently;
” The time to relax is when you don’t have time for it.”
That’s it!! They were closing the beer stands in a few minutes and I don’t have anymore time for this porcelain v. pee stalemate. The floodgates opened, the goods were flushed, the hands were washed, and the double fists were full in a matter of minutes.
So kids, the moral of the story is….wait for the stalls to open up.
When it’s all said and done these guys are crazy. To get into the ring with a chance of becoming victim to a rear naked patella enema takes more cajones than I have. Keep fightin and I’ll keep watchin’.
