AUSTIN, Tex. — In a move that most industry experts have dismissed as a blatant and ill-conceived attempt to piggyback on the success of humor Web site TextsFromLastNight.com, Macrohard, a fledgling startup company, is funding a high-profile rollout of two new sites, SMSMessagesSentDuringThePast24Hours.com and TweetsPostedSinceThisTimeYesterday-ish.com.
“You do what?” She asked me, suddenly ignoring the white noise of the party and concentrating on me for the first time. Trouble was, she was trying to contain a look of disgust.
“I pee in my wetsuit,” I told her, matter-of-factly, as if describing an obvious everyday ritual, like procrastinating on facebook or counting down the minutes until 5 p.m’s first drink. Sure, it might not be something to take pride in, but it’s totally normal…right?
Think about it for a second. She did. It turned out that although she looked like a sexy coffee shop barista, she was in fact a sexy psychologist, who spent a good portion of her day treating sickos with behavior disorders and perverted sexual fetishes. Judging by the clinical, pitying look she gave me, peeing in my wetsuit indicated that I was mentally ill.
“Everyone does it,” I told her reassuringly. “It helps keep you warm. It feels…” I stopped myself short. I thought better of finishing my thought as I was now as self-conscious about peeing in my wetsuit as if it were the first time. I realized if I told her the whole truth, it would not go over well.
The truth was this, during some marathon sessions, I pee in my wetsuit upward of five times. It feels absolutely wonderful to marinate in the temporary warmth of your own 98.6 degree urine. Not to mention the sensation of release is indescribably satisfying. I’d like to tell you thie piss quickly drips out of my wetsuit, and that I rinse out the rest with an invigorating flush of cold water. But the truth is, I never flush out the piss anymore. Why let a little flood of ice water down your back when you’re happily basking in your own urine? To make matters worse, wetsuit technology has gotten so good that the piss never seems to go anywhere. It just stays around your midriff, cooling slowly. By the end of a session, after sloshing around in my own diluted urine, I smell like a hipster hobo. No matter how many times I wash off my leash strap, it still smells like smegma from Bigfoot’s dick. I am not exaggerating. That is how my leash strap smells.
Even without hearing the whole story, she had come to the conclusion that I was now a curiosity. “It’s interesting, really,” she thought aloud while giving me that clinical, sterile look. “Incontinence is a terrible condition. But incontinence suggests a lack of bladder control. You’re urinating on yourself on purpose, yes?”
“Yes,” I replied with a squeak in my voice and taking a nervous gulp of my vodka soda.
“So this isn’t really incontinence- it’s closer to enuresis- that’s the technical term for bet-wetting. But that’s not right either. Because enuresis happens in your sleep, unconsciously. I suppose it’s closer to Paraphalic Infantalism.”
That didn’t sound good, but I rolled the dice and asked her for a definition.
“It’s commonly referred to as Adult Baby Syndrome. In some cases a sexual fetish where sufferers feel the need to defecate in adult diapers and pretend to be infants. They’re stuck in the Anal Stage- struggling to gain control of the most basic bodily functions.
Ughh, Burnt. Even worse than I expected. I scrambled to formulate a reasonable defense. “Well, um it’s really not so different than what astronauts do. It’s not like they’re going to take off their spacesuit just to go pee, right? That’s what it’s like going surfing. I’m on an important mission, and if that means peeing in the suit then so be it.”
“Right…” The look she gave me now was worse than the clinical pitying look I’d received earlier. I’d just gone from being infantile to space-cadet.
“Occupational hazard,” I said, faking confidence as I tried to take a deep swig of my long-gone vodka. Then we stared at each other blankly, both unsure which occupation I was referring to- surfer, astronaut, or psychologist.
Two-time Cy Young recepient Tim Lincecum has entered the most significant slump of his young career. His last four starts have been mediocre at best, leaving sports writers scratching their heads. Well, scratch your heads no more, sports writers. And cite our blog as a credible source, as we reveal the top five most likely reasons (reasons may be based solely on speculation)… Read the rest of this entry »
Live blogging is unbelievably stupid. So is the amount of fanfare surrounding LeBron James’ announcement of his free agent intentions. And though two stupids don’t make a smart, they sure do make for a good way to kill a rainy Thursday night. So, without further ado, I bring you the Bubble Factory’s first live blog, wherein I will share insipid insights until ESPN’s made-for-LBJ one-hour special is complete or I fall asleep. Here’s hoping the latter comes first.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but no team in the NBA has cap space to give max contracts to all of LBJ's alter-egos.
By my estimation, the World Cup gives me carte blanche to be rabidly and unapologetically jingoistic. So I’m using the occasion of the United States-England game as an excuse to toot America’s vuvuzela and bash the Brits.
From Rooney to Hayward, the sun never sets on detestable deeds perpetrated by the British Empire.
Twenty-one year old Shooting Guard Stephen Curry has certainly not disappointed in his first NBA season, and many say they have yet to see the best of him. He was the 7th overall draft choice by the Golden State Warriors after playing three seasons for the Wildcats of Davidson College, in which he was a Read the rest of this entry »
Imagine you are a kid in a kindergarten.
You’ve got nice clothes. New Sneakers. Lots of friends.
Imagine that you get A+’s consistently.
And imagine that your parents give you a quarter for every A. Read the rest of this entry »
Hello, Steven
OMAHA- Citing a combination of boredom and an interest in the study of classical conditioning, the Conagra Intern Coordinator, Jim Kaponski, recently released a report (again) validating Pavlov’s theory. Bubblefactory.org staff was able to gain exclusive rights to his meticulous journal records. Over the course of 2 months, Jim conducted a series of secret tests on an unsuspecting intern. The intern was given a typical working environment and the usual menial intern tasks to fulfill. The following unedited notes chart the daily progress of Jim’s summer research: Read the rest of this entry »
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