I was wondering something about the people who live in the real America, the real America with yards and kiddie pools and stuff, as opposed to apartment America. So when you're outside in Real America, in the back yard with your Grillmaster 9000 or whatever... do you actually go inside to pee, in a real bathroom? Or do you just pee wherever and figure it's good for the trees or the bushes or whatever? This has been keeping me up at night. This question is mainly for dudes but not necessarily.
Monday, March 8, 2010
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I actually pee outside more in Apartment America than I do when visiting Real America. But I think that has more to do with the proliferation of booze in Apartment America.
In NYC, that can land you in Jail America for the night.
nowadays. sadly.
When you want to give the septic tank a break. Don't want me no socialized sewage!
I minored in peeing outside at Florida State. Sometimes I wasn't even drunk, I just liked it. You New York people will never understand.
I grew up in a house with three siblings and one bathroom on nearly five acres, much of it wooded. Of course we went outside. My wife, who grew up in the Bronx, was horrified the first time she saw my brother go outside during some family gathering when the bathroom was taken. And this was in Connecticut--not even real America.
I had a boyfriend who would just pee in the bathroom sink if the proper receptacle was in use while at parties. I have no idea why that relationship didn't work out.
The last time I peed outside was in Harvard Yard, an experience that was just nearly to Permanently Forgotten status but for this post. Thanks for that.
Most of the parties I go to, the question is not "does everyone pee outside, rather than in the bathroom" but "does everyone puke outside, rather than in the bathroom?" Seriously, by the end of the night, getting to your car is like crossing a minefield designed by Jackson Pollock.
Surely Sauer can clear this up.
I can't speak for Real America but in Real Canada (the wild west yeehaaaw etc) you really only pee outside if you are in the woods or at a cabin or whatever.
Or if you are crazy drunk and under 25, but even then you do it in a very polite way - hiding behind a tree, digging a small pit, etc.
A SMALL PIT???? You Canadians are industrious!
Plus, in permafrost! Actually, if they were really industrious they'd dig a big pit.
I await with baited breath today's post about "yobs" on "_____crime Island."
Micturition crime?
I've noticed, outside of NYC, that it usually just depends on the level of alcohol consumption.
I live in Apartment America and have family who live in Real America. Have seen WAY more dudes peeing outside in Apartment America, maybe because even the drunkest suburbanite isn't going to risk creating a brown patch of lawn by which his neighbors will judge him forever.
I can speak for Cottage Canada. Yes. BTW we have a beautiful 100year old cottage for sale on Lake Huron. With a wrap around 2nd floor porch conveniently designed to shield your midnight pps from late night strollers.
G-Bay lake huron or lake huron lake huron?
All of Canada, anywhere outside an urban centre, dudes pee outside. If it's more than 20 minutes walk to the ladies', and said ladies are drinking, then ladies too. That said, I just got a press release for the the cringingly-named "shewee" , which should eliminate even the need for a walk.
And don't pretend like people don't pee outside in the city all the time. The odor of entranceways for every urban apartment I have ever lived in would offer convincing proof, as would the sickly cheap-beer tinted urine scent of every alley behind ever low-rent art opening I ever went to.
I would say that in certain good bits of cottage canada, male indoor pissing is frowned upon.
I'm looking forward to the follow up post on how many of you living in Apartment America pee out the window.
It depends on two variables: 1. who, exactly, is outside at the time, and 2. how hilarious it would be if they got peed on. So the answer is "everyone at my place, all the time."
A friend and I peed off a roof in the East Village at a party a few years back. A few minutes later I turn around because I hear yelling and get smacked hard in face, knocking me down to the ground, by one of four frat-type fellows who were, understandably, upset that someone peed on them. My friend amazingly was able to convince them that the offenders went downstairs to the party--we swear! I still don't know how I didn't get the shit kicked out of me that night. Those few minutes with the four quite large guys surrounding us with the edge of the roof behind us and Avenue A a few stories below were quite scary.
Moral: I will never pee off of any roof ever again.
If you peed streetside, I'm glad to hear you got smacked hard in the face.
Why would a man subject himself to the crushing debt and endless maintenance associated with home ownership if he could not, of an evening, stand at the edge of his patio, gaze up into the night sky, and lay claim to his territory in this fashion?
Because urea kills the grass and is hard on the landscaping. And if you've got a well, especially an older one that might not be well sealed...ewww.
Grass. That's a good one. I rely on seasonal weeds for ground cover, and most of them have proven surprisingly resilient in this department.
But point taken about the well.
I love me some good ground cover. Except for crab grass, which is the ass crack of the plant world and must be destroyed at every opportunity.
I didn't realize everyone did this. I thought it was just learned behavior from my dad, who spent his childhood years without indoor plumbing. (My grandparents finally got a toilet in 1957.)
I helped a good friend run a political campaign on the platform of peeing outside. In our conservative hometown, he would challenge all the other candidates on their conservative credibility: If you were really a conservative, you'd pee outside! It conserves the water supply! "Still, no single candidate is supporting the tangible conservative issues I've promoted for months: Increasing outside urination among male homeowners, phasing out the federal Department of Education by first repealling No Child Left Behind, and improving the quality of country music played on our nation's airwaves." Ultimately he didn't get elected, but as it turns out we weren't running for any particular office so it was just as well.
Where there is a backyard, and at the same time also booze, there will be peeing outside. This is an indisputable fact.
How to fucking piss outside.
Sometimes you're caught outside your place and you gotta' go. Here's how it's fucking done.
First of all, it's not "pee" you nancy. It's piss. Men piss. Little girls pee. Maybe you're a little girl in which case, go inside.
Ok, look around. Are you by yourself? Good. Are you in your own back yard? Better still. Take another look around, are there any windows and anyone standing in them? If so, don't piss. If not, proceed.
But don't just spray that arc anywhere you thoughtless fucking animal. Kids play in this back yard. Dogs too. Just because dogs are ridiculous messes doesn't mean you should be too. Find a fucking secluded area. The base of a tree is perfect. A corner of the fenced in yard is okay too. If you're outsie your own yard then try to find a place protected on at least two sides.
BEFORE you unzip, make that second check. Look at those fucking windows. Is Grandma suddenly there checking the weather? Good thing you looked again, isn't it?
Unbutton that fly ad get it out. What's that, you have a zipper? Fine Mr. Clooney, unzip your fancy zipper pants. Get it out and aim it down and fucking go go go.
No, don't spray it all around like a fucking Vegas casino fountain show. Put it in one fucking spot. And not on any plants you nimrod. Human urine isn't good for plants. That's shit. Shit's good for plants.
No, don't shit outside.
Ok, don't fucking dawdle. Move fast, man; be a piss ninja.
While you're pissing don't look to see if anyone's watching. What the fuck are you going to do if you're seen anyway? Wave? You don't want to know if they saw and they don;t want you to fucking know. Like telling your wife she isn't always that fragrant, some things are better taken to the grave. Get the piss over with. Now squeeze that hose off and give it a shake. Tuck it away. This isn't a chance to air out your junk like some pervert. That's how people end up having to fucking register wherever they live for the rest of their lives.
You got fucking caught? *Sigh* And you're being confronted about it? Just say you're saving water and the fucking earth. If your accuser isn't into the "green" excuse he or she probably doesn't give a shit that you;re pissing outside anyway.
Pissing outside is utilitarian. Don't be fucking embarrassed about it but don't enjoy it too much either. A proper American despises his bodily functions.
"Move fast, man; be a piss ninja."
Now THAT is a motto for the ages.
This is correct.
I love you, Abe.
What's this doing in comments? This should be a new post!
This is all proper and correct and I don't know if I should be ashamed or proud that I read it thinking "yes, that's how you do it"
Can't...stop...laughing...at...'piss ninja.' *gurgle*
The last time I took the Apex Bus to Philly as we pulled into the lot a guy from the club down the block was pissing against the wall and decided to turn around to start waving at the bus to stop with both hands - hilarity/mortification ensued. Unless someone is about to rob you do not turn around.
pee is great for lemon trees and tomatoes. piss on them.
My brother basically sent out a press release when his eldest son decided that pissing outside was better than inside. The kid has a future.
When my roommate in college, who hailed from Real America found out that I, from Fake America, had never peed outside (except in the ocean, but that obviously doesn't count), she teased me about it for ages.
I never have and don't plan to in the future. I'm from the mid west and have lived on both coasts.
Apart from some sort of post-Apocalypic future(which I think is sort of likely!), I don't plan on peeing outside either.
Wow. Have you ever slept in a tent? It's almost always ugly to marvel at the 'normal' things that others haven't done, but I honestly find this baffling.
This is reason #476 for always carrying fresh Kleenex in my pocket.
The one time in my life I went camping was at a camp ground with showers and toilets.
The one time I slept in a tent, it was at a Girl Scout camp in the Hamptons (no, really) and there were toilets.
And possibly hired help.
Upon turning 18 I had had enough of living with my family, so I moved into the garage. It was a long and laborious process of shoveling rat shit and cat piss soggy boxes out of my new bedroom, but once it was done, freedom was achieved. It was 20x20 feet with cracked, unfinished concrete floors, topped with an awkwardly placed bed, a roll top desk and a sofa that should have been left in the alley where I found it. Life was good.
Life was good until the first night I came home drunk and found myself locked out of the house separated from the toilet that had been there for me so many times before. So that's how it is. I turn my back on you and you lock your doors on me? Fine. In my stupor, I trampled into the flower bed that lined the front porch and let it ride. Vomit coating soft-petaled flowers and tainting them forevermore. I went to bed that night hungry and enthralled with the possibilities that lay ahead.
When I awoke in the early afternoon, my swollen and pulsating bladder was scratching at my gut like a puppy left in the cold. Dazed, but in remembrance of last nights revelations, I stumbled into the front yard, turned my back to the street and pissed all over the same flowers I befriended before sunrise. What a relief. A glorious and purposeful relief that cleansed my insides and the petals that had now been eaten away by bile and acid-laced bean dip. I shook the last bit of boyhood out and proclaimed to my parents, gawking at me through the window, "Lock me out again and I'll shit in the pool. I'm a man."
At the time I wasn't sure why I added the last part, about me being a man, it just seemed natural. Carnal almost, to mark my territory and then assure onlookers of my masculinity. I am a man, I am an American and I piss in front yards, sleep in garages and ask my mom to fold my laundry.
I once pissed all over a friend of mine who was lying passed-out drunk on the lawn in the back garden at a party.
In my defense he had been a bit of a dick that night and he was lying right next to the bushes where everyone else (the men, anyway) was relieving themselves.
Nearly 30 years later he still has no idea I did that.
Never the less, you should still work out an apology.
It's the bry thing to do.
I would dearly love to be able to pee outside. I'm on a little over an acre, but my lot was a pasture up until the 80's and all my neighbor's kitchen windows face onto my yard. It's like an arena for vegetable gardening.
I would WAY rather pee outside than in some icky gas station bathroom. Cottonelle wipes, individually packaged. Woman's best friend.
Mr. Teautally also likes to go out in the backyard and pee when the dog goes out to pee. Maybe men really are closer to being dogs in more ways than one?
In college, my roommate got a public urination for pissing in the bushes outside the Cadillac Ranch (a bar). The Lawrence Police Department had stationed an undercover officer outside the bar in order to catch people pissing in the bushes (the neighbors had complained).
Pissing outside is great. I'm from Apartment America but used to live in Real America and I miss the fuck out of pissing outside. Also everything else you get to do in Real America, such as drink on the floodplain with the nudists in the middle of the day, and not have a job.
In Rowhouse Norway you go downtown to piss outside. The yards are too small to piss in. Of course you can hang it out your window and piss into a meter of several-times-refrozen snow, which will then bear the color-coded traces of your offense until May.
Misread a portion of this "pee wherever and figure it's good for your dresser."
Which I do, Subconscious Choire. I do.
I'm pee-shy, and only a few years ago was able to start using urinals instead of always using a stall, so peeing outside makes me break out in sweats.
I live in Real Bohemia America and am an avid gardener. As anyone in the great Outside knows, deer are the great enemy of gardeners, treating my garden as a drive-by MacSaladBar.
When I had a boyfriend, I would often ask him to pee around the perimeter of my garden. And he did so gladly. I figure, if coyote pee works, why shouldn't man pee?
And he often peed outside anyway. Have acreage, will pee.
Also fun: slathering on the mud and hanging out outside nude and mud-covered.
Also fun: fucking outdoors. Will you be doing a post on that, too? (Abe could provide a How To?)
The answer:
16 ounce GATORADE (wide mouth) bottle. Big enough to fit your junk in, fill it up, hold with left hand, and pick flowers or point at jet trails in the sky
with the other hand. Distract. Wave to friends. Cap, and dispose of properly.
also if your junk is firmly inserted into a Gatorade bottle, there is no chance
of 'indecent exposure" by overzealous bar-cops, methinks.
and whose junk is too big to fit into a wide mouth Gatorade bottle?
(Email me, please)
I grew up in New York City and it's all about peeing and walking when you have to 'go' outside after a night of drinking. No Public Urination tickets here! Just keep it moving...