I don’t actually have a penis. But it seems to me that aiming one doesn’t take all that much dexterity. Even a man should be able to manage it.
Men have it made. They can pee anywhere. Standing up. On the side of the road. Into a bottle. Anywhere. Yet when it comes to the toilet they can’t quite seem to make it to their destination.
The males in my house have a really hard time with accuracy. Especially in the morning. I know this because as soon as I go into the bathroom everyone follows me in there. With bladders a bursting.
My one son attempts to wipe up his mess. And that’s why he is my favorite. But if there was an Olympic event that involved coming as close as humanly possible to not actually wiping anything up, he would get a gold medal. #cloroxwipes
Contrary to what some people may think, I don’t actually pee standing up. But if I did, I bet I would have better aim than most men. At least the ones that live in my house.
This carnival game is the closest I’ve actually ever come to having my own penis. And I’m pretty damn good it. Even on my first try. Even though I only play this once a year when the carnie rolls into town.
Maybe if I handed out grody to the max stuffed animals for everyone who exercised precision, I wouldn’t have this headache. I actually tried putting a Cheerio in the toilet for them to master their mark. Until someone reached into the toilet after target practice and ate said Cheerio. We don’t play that game anymore.
Now we keep our cereal in bowls in the kitchen. And our bodily fluids in bowls in the bathroom. It just makes life easier this way. Less confusion.
I taught both of my daughters to pee. And they make it in every time. EVERY time. Just like me.
I can squat drunk in an alley with more accuracy than most men. And so can most of my friends. If you don’t believe me stop by 100th-106th and Western tonight around midnight-ish and see for yourself.