¡Viva Clitoro!

As I am a hermaphrodite, I have the luxury of being able to check both restrooms for open stalls.

Earlier today, I had to pee reeel bad and decided to urinate using my penis as all of the stalls in the women's restroom were occupied (I check there first because they're usually cleaner and free of pee-dribblings...usually).

Now for you bitches ladies out there (hi mom), using a urinal is not as simple a task as it may seem. There are rules that must be followed involving split-second decisions. Walking into a men's restroom and faltering or showing any sign of indecision will forever label you as a retard who likes to watch other men pee. This is not a good thing.

So in I go, through the door, past the open stall, straight toward the last open urinal as prescribed by Law:

Section 3.1-B: Only the untrained or pussy-whipped shall urinate sitting.

I assumed a proper Splash-Back-Safe™ stance and unzipped, keeping the non-dominant hand safely akimbo on the hip (in compliance with the Gay Signals Act of 1983 [the 1994 official revision, which stipulates the Non-Gay Signals clause]).

Now you must know a bit of history regarding my choice of undergarments. First there were unisex undies (my mom never did decide what I was), then tightie-whities (or is that whitie-tighties), then crotchless panties, then baby shorts, and now boxers. Okay, so maybe you didn't need to know that, but it makes me feel pretty when I tell the story. Now back to my little ditty.

I unzipped my slacks and went to shake hands with Clitoro (like the bull). Then a wonderful thing happened: Lefty and Scrote came out as well! The freedom was astonishing. Maybe it was the surprise, maybe it was the cool air drying them off, I can't say. But now I look forward to my next urinal visit, which should be in about 20 minutes...