Real Men/Women of Genius #105

[Today I have a plumber fixing LEAKS downstairs which naturally, uh, reminded me of this :]

Bud Light presents…

REAL MEN OF GENIUS

{Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss!}

Today we salute you, Mr. NYC Marathon Starter on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge Upper Deck and Pee-er.

{“Ittttt’s like my eeeeeeeeee-mer-gen-cy esssssssssss-scape valve!”}

Relieving yourself, are you? Feelin’ better? Can’t possibly make it to the porta-potties and back in line in time, so you’re DOIN’ IT RIGHT THERE?

{“Therrrrrrrrrre’s nevvvvvvvvvv-er eeeeeeeeee-nough of them an-y-waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!”}

How clever. You and about a thousand other frantic jumper-arounders-and-clutchers-of-crotch. The gun won’t go off for at least another twenty minutes, so in the meantime–as we do suppose–if a man’s gotta go, he’s gotta go.

{“Sommmmmmme-b-b-b-body’s alllllllllllll-ways hog-ging the pot-ty-in-front-of meeeeeeeeeee!”}

We expect it. Your “thousand closest friends” expect it. Maybe even ALL those on the *upper* deck expect it.

{“So wherrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre am I sup-posed to gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo?”}

But those below? Not so much. There may be more than ten thousand of your soon-to-be worst enemies standing in line on the lower deck of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge who might NOT be all that enthused over kinky treats like “golden showers.”

{EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!! That’s sooooooooooooo gross!!!}

And you will be careful–won’t you?–of those VERY expensive shoes on the guy standing next to you. If you have to splash, you’ll try for direct hits only on your own shoes, we’re sure. Or, you could squeeze your way over to the railing and shoot your finest shots right over the side…to all the doubtless countless cheers of those below, standing at *their* railing.

{“Maaaaaaaaaaaaay-beeeeeeeeeee they should run bare-foot?”}

So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light right after your race, O Clever Mister Whizzer, because the “relief” you let fly with…might not actually make it onto those other runners’ shoes. No, it could end up showering the head and shoulders of **SHE** who happens, unfortunately, to be squatting downwind.

{Mis-terrrrrrrrrr N-Y-C Marrr-a-thon Starrrrr-ter on the Ver-ra-zan-o-Nar-rows Bridddddddge Up-perrrrr Deck and Peeeeeeeeee-err!!}

Bud Light beer: we don’t care where they brew it; we just dig their commercials.

( O_O )

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Check out this new outlet:
http://www.trailrunevents.com/ul/stories.asp.

Resource:
http://thefuntimesguide.com/2004/10/bud_light_real.php.

Yankee Folly of The Day:
Waterproofing the basement of your 100-year-old house in the “historic district” costs ten thousand four hundred and zero one-hundredths dollars, plus six-twenty-five for the plumber to rearrange all your drains. This is a public service announcement for y’all to become either Rebels or Rednecks and move your sad and sorry poor butts to Florida, where there are no basements.