Thursday, September 18, 2008

Lesson Learned The Hard Way

Ok, work sucks. It's that time of year where I am chained to the desk for long days and nights, no breaks for the weekend, no rest for the weary. Unfortunately, this current work hell has been, somehow, even more harsh thanks to my wife also being mired in long ass days and nights. Normally, the sitter would stay later with the kids each night but her mom is sick so she must leave and, since I have no boss to report to, I can come home early to deal with the kids. Sure I have clients who are going to dump me if I don't get their shit done on time but I will still have a job so I have a touch of flexibility. Anyway, after one day of dealing with my kids, having them in the office etc, I realized this was not going to work. So, we hired another sitter to deal with the days and nights. She's in need of work, she knows our kids and she is available for as long as we need her. Done. She worked one day and the regular sitter calls to say things are better, she can come during the day but she can't stay late and she can't help out on the weekend. So, I went and hired the other woman to work nights until I come home and weekends until things are more normal regarding my wife's schedule. Two sitters. Basically, double the price of the one I was paying. Cash, of course.

So, Floogin, what's the lesson you ask.

Well, I hit the bank to get cash for the two women and I came back to the office, my pocket fat with money. Normally, my money is neatly folded over my credit cards and held in place with a nice rubber band. Since the bank was crowded, I opted to stuff the money in my pocket and deal with sorting and organizing later. Well, later came as I was in the men's room on my floor. I'm standing there, dick out, pissing, and the thought hit's me - "Floogin, take out the money and straighten it out, and put it back in your pocket."

So, just as the stream peaks, I pull out this big ole wad of hundreds and twenties and then it happens. My brain decides to fuck with me and my fingers release their grip and then, over the course of what seemed like an hour, I reached and grabbed and tried to catch those bills as they fluttered into the piss pot.

Now, since I was already pissing, I had to contend with my nice fat stream of warm yellow pee. I'm twisting my hips, aiming one way, reaching the other and I manage to grab none of the bills. None of the credit cards either.

so, there's my "wallet" sitting at the bottom of the urinal. Do I continue to pee? Do I stop and take the stuff out and toss it in the sink first? What if I do that and someone walks in? Will they try and steal my pissmoney?

So I continue peeing. All over my stuff.

Then I have the horrific task of picking the stuff up and rinsing it off so it doesn't stink like pee when I give the ladies their money. I can't put it in my pocket or I'll have a big wet spot on my pants and, odds are, it will still stink like piss and I'll walk around feeling and smelling like I can't hold my water.

So I wrap it up in paper towels and blot it dry and it is now spread out around my office being guarding by my Pleo. Yes, I got me a pleo. Well, my dad got one for my son but he wanted it in the office for the one day a year when they are both here and I set it up to see if it was cool. It is. Real cool. Except for the big giant steaming pleo shit it left under my desk. I'm kidding, pleo's can't shit. Or can they. for those that are interested.

Anyway, what's the lesson? Well, handling your money and your cock at the same time should be reserved for when you are paying someone to service said cock. Otherwise, you're going to wind up with a pocket full of pissmoney.

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