Lately I’ve been doing some deep soul searching. It’s like deep sea diving, except I’m diving in the sea of life for answers, instead of in the sea for coral and blowfish, or whatever the fuck you do. I’ve been trying to figure out why I’m kind of insane and completely self-conscious about the most random things. Through my digging I have found out that I was extremely self-conscious even as a small child. A couple instances have jumped out at me that were kind of hints as to what type of adult human I would become.

The first situation I remembered was one from about as early in my childhood as I can remember. I was the ring bearer at a family members wedding. I must have blocked out the whole walking down the aisle calamity because I don’t remember that at all. What I do remember, however, is getting dressed in my little tuxedo. We were in the hotel room and there were a bunch of people around and my parents thought it would be a good idea to just get me dressed, out in the open.

In this situation I distinctly remember being extremely against it. I didn’t want all these adults staring at my peep show situation. I was just a kid for god sakes, my penis was certainly not the mammoth that it has become, and I didn’t want any of these creepy adults to make unfair penis judgments. Plus, isn’t having a bunch of adults, standing around a naked five year old, illegal? Where the fuck was Chris Hanson back then?

The next situation I remember is both extremely embarrassing and extremely gross. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone about this, actually. Oh, what I’ll do for blog content. Anyways, I was in kindergarten at the time and we were standing in line at the teachers desk with papers in hand, ready for her to give them a good once over. Well I was about 6th in line and I really, really had to pee. If I wasn’t too self-conscious about doing the pee dance I would have been all up inside the pee dance situation at that time.

Instead of stepping out of line and walking to the bathroom like a normal human would I started asking myself all these weird questions like, “If I go, what will I do with my paper?” “Will I get my place back in line or will I have to go to the end?” and “What are these people going to think of me just dead sprinting out of our single file, straight to the bathroom? Will they think I have diarrhea or something? If they did, that’s unfair and extremely embarrassing.”

Well, by the time I got all of these thoughts through my mind I just started pissing directly into my pants. I’ve never felt so relieved and so frightened all at once. Not only did I piss my pants, but I also didn’t tell a single fucking person. It’s a damn good thing I was wearing dark jeans because nobody even fucking noticed! I also must have been extremely well hydrated because when it dried it didn’t smell like a piss parade had just marched down my legs. I made it through the whole day at school, after school at the babysitters, and back home with my mom without a single person ever knowing about my own little personal 9/11.

The last situation that really sticks out to me is from when I was in about 5th grade. Come to think of it, there were a lot of awkward situations in middle school. One of the completely unrelated awkward situations was when my first girlfriend broke up with me because her friends made fun of her for dating such a loser. What a confidence booster! It’s alright though, because I bet those whores are living in an alley snorting coke off a black dudes cock right now, meanwhile I have tons of internet friends and hate myself. Who wins? I don’t know, but I think it’s pretty obvious that I am the victor in this situation.

Anyways, back on track. I like to call this disaster the “Great Underwear Debacle”. We had just got done with our swimming lessons for PE and I had just finished dodging our perverted teacher who liked to stare at naked boys in the shower, when I came back to my pile of clothes on the floor. We weren’t allowed lockers because those were for 6th graders. When I got back to the clothes I found something was amiss as my underwear was gone! WTF? Then I looked about halfway down the locker room and noticed a pair of underwear that looked sort of like mine, but I couldn’t tell.

I didn’t want to just go pick up the rogue underwear, because what if they weren’t mine? What if they belonged to the retarded black kid, who was somehow a better swimmer than I (yet I could kick his ass in a sitting still competition)? So I did the only thing I could do to save face, I free-balled it! It seemed win-win at the time. Then after everyone was dressed and we were sitting on the benches the child rapist PE instructor saw the underwear and picked them up saying “Who forgot their underwear? Someone is going to be real uncomfortable for the rest of the day.” Oh fuck! A flaw in my plan! Surely they won’t check each and everyone of us for underwear, would they?

Well, everyone was laughing, including me so I could fit in and not seem suspect. Luckily our PE instructor was, in fact, a gigantic pervert so he just dropped the whole situation and took the underwear to the back where he presumably jerked off into it for years to come (literally, teeheehee).

I’d like to think that I’ve come a long way since my childhood, and for the most part I have. I’m not pissing in my pants or leaving rogue undwear crosscountry anymore. Yet still, those same self-conscious questions keep poping up in my head in whatever situation I’m faced. It’s kind of funny because the only time my mind isn’t clouded with those types of questions now is when I’m in a room full of adults, naked. In that situation my only question seems to be “Alright, who’s next?”

Tags: piss pants, self-conscious, underwear

When I was a young kid I had a myriad of different babysitters in many different situations. You could probably guess that my childhood was as awkward as my current day adulthood. First off, I never had any hot babysitters, it was always some ugly bitch from down the street. Even at a very young age I would always hope to get a hot babysitter that I could seduce with my boyish good looks and elastic jeans.

One of my first babysitters that I could remember my parents took me to in the horrible (black) side of town. She was an ancient bitch with a husband and a horribly mean poodle. I don’t remember a whole lot about her except that we used to make waffles and peanut butter and sugar sandwiches. Oh yeah, her husband also died during my tenure there and instead of telling anyone she kept him in the bedroom… Ok, maybe that last part isn’t entirely true because I can’t remember if that really happened or if it was just a dream that was vivid as fuck. I remember walking into the bedroom when I wasn’t supposed to and she told me he was dead, then she said something about insurance or something and told me not to tell anyone. I think the poodle killed him.

After that old lady was another old lady, but this one was plus sized. I also don’t remember too much about her except that she would watch me at our house. The only other thing I remember about her is that she may or may not have been present when I got my head caught in a recliner. All I know is that recliners are like bear traps. I should have known my life was going to be a struggle when a fucking recliner almost took me out.

After those two the next one I remember is my schoolhood babysitter lady. She watched a lot of kids out of her home, so it was really my first social childhood babysitter situation. If the whole recliner debacle wasn’t enough to make me realize I had shit luck, then this babysitter situation certainly drove the point home. I’d always be getting in trouble for something, and I didn’t even mean to be a troublemaker. My heart was totally in the right place!

I was always the one who hit the tee ball over the fence into the angry old peoples yard. Being punished for being amazing at tee ball made me give up sports entirely, that and the fact that I’m really horrible at every one of them except tee ball. We would also play catch in the basement and I was always the one who would knock a fucking light bulb out. Not to mention the time that I threw a bunch of action figures only to watch them flail down the sump pump area. I also got in trouble one time because I made the babysitters son laugh to hard, making him spit his soda all over the fucking table and himself. She yelled at me! I’m not the one who doesn’t know how to drink a soda like a fucking human! Punish me because I’m funny? wtf?

One of the last babysitter situations I remember dealing with was only a one night deal. I was spending the night at my cousins house and my aunt and uncle wanted to go out so they called a babysitter. They told me she was younger so I was psyched. Finally, a possibly bangable babysitter! Turns out she was in high school! Perfect! Except her face looked like my ass, if my ass skin resembled the surface of the moon.

Regardless, this ugly bitch was apparently decent looking enough to have some desperate and ashamed boyfriend, who came over all hush-hush-like after we were sleeping. Well, I fell asleep during Terminator and the next thing I know I have some long fingernailed finger being inserted into my ear arena. I open my eyes and this crazy whore looks at her boyfriend and says “see, I told you”. See I told you? What the fuck did you just do to my ear you psychotic broad? I was also upset that not even my “Sleeping’s For Loser’s Man” Bart Simpson sleeping bag was enough to protect me.

It was the weirdest fucking thing. I fell asleep and when I awoke the next morning she was gone. I never really told anybody about it, but a little while after that night I got an ear infection. That bitch ear poked my fuck into infection land and I wasn’t happy about it. It was like she was some witch that went around giving children ear syphilis or something.

Tags: babysitter

So lately I feel like my sense of humor has been regressing a bit. It’s not like I giggle every time I hear the word “pencil” because it’s another word for cock, but it’s probably not too far off from going back to that point. I’ll give you a for instance.

Mr. Manhole is a company that advertises with us and I found the name so funny that I had to try to get some sort of paraphernalia with their name on it. Not only that, but I also feel obligated to laugh every time someone says the name around the office and make a manhole related joke at least twice daily. I also try to call someone a “manhole inspector” as often as possible without getting sexual harassments charges pressed on me. It’s really weird though because we also work with a company named Beaver Squeezers and you’d think that’d be funnier, but for some reason to me it isn’t. And yes, that is a Dwight bobblehead from The Office, just to prove that I still have a good, normal sense of humor….

Immature Humor Evidence #2

Yes, that is me with a seemingly huge horse-like cock, or at least that was the joke around the office after this picture was taken. Somehow everyone thought it would be brilliant to make fun of me for having a big penis. Ouch, you got me, guys. Not only does it look like I have a huge penis, but I also think I look terrible in the picture. I pleaded with my boss to let me take the picture with my shirt off so I could feature my two best attributes, my unbelievable pecs and rock hard abs, but sadly she didn’t oblige, so I retaliated by adding a whole new level of sexiness.

At least this isn’t the first time a pants tent has caused problems…

Tags: Manhole, Pants Tent