Approx read time <4 min

I’m legitimately scared. This is a very rare feeling for me. I’m scared of finding out who I really am. What I am capable of.

I’ve spent so much time wishing for things, sitting around and waiting, and now I have a chance to climb the mountain and simply take it all… what if I can’t climb the mountain.

I feel weak. Unprepared. That isn’t good enough to fail, so that isn’t what is feeding my fear.

What. Is. It.

I’m sitting here in an almost shock-like state, numb in several ways. Contradicting experiences throughout the day has left me in an anxious and hopeful sadness.

Wow, what a combination of words. I don’t think I’ve ever felt those words before in that order.

Someone I know had died this morning. You think you can prepare, but you can’t. Death always comes with an internal “shutter” that doesn’t really compare in profoundness with anything else. Death demands respect.

I’ve wanted and tried to die several times in the past. It seems like a lifetime ago. I can barely relate to myself anymore. Those thoughts don’t make sense. Those feelings seem ignorant.

I’m afraid of finding out that I’m not as capable as I had led myself to believe. I’ve just learned tonight that the thing that scares me the most in life, is not measuring up to myself. Of course I’m lazy sometimes, and I forget some things, or I lose my temper and overreact, but those are just “those times” and not who I really am.


What if I am not here for a greater purpose other than hope that some day I’ll have a chance to make an impact on this world. Have I been living in a 28 year delusion that the only thing missing, was opportunity??

Can it be, that I have no idea who I am?


I am so so afraid of finding out. I don’t want to know. I want to stay here, living the day of possibilities. Possibilities of success before they fail. A life ahead of me, that hasn’t yet been proved worthless.

Today feels like it was the last good day. A good that is defined without a real foundation, but an abstract and perhaps imaginary one. Today is good because of ignorance and immaturity. I don’t know any better.

Today is whatever I call it because I can’t be wrong. I can choose my outlook on stepping up to the plate- I could hit a homerun, I could strike out. While I stand hopeful and confident in the batter’s box, feeling “good”, I get a moment closer to actually finding out how things are about to happen.

Can I really hit a homerun? I think I can, right?

I’m up. It’ll be over soon, and I’ll know the real truth, not abstract hope.

I kick the barrel of the bat with my right foot, then my left, and I rock it up above my shoulder into position. I pause my gaze at the dusty home base, stalling, enjoying my last moment ever of possibilities… where it’s possible that I’m about to hit a homerun… it’s possible I am capable… it’s possible things will work out well…

I tear up. I think this feeling is called scared.

I’m afraid I’m about to live in the real truth that I am not good enough. I am afraid of what I’ll do once I discover it. Will I still be breathing? Will breathing hurt?

Will living hurt?

A teardrop falls to the ground. The dry, beige sand turns to a dark brown as it quickly absorbs my teardrop. Oh god, is this my last good memory?

I want to call timeout. I want to find an excuse to leave and postpone. Stop. Stop!

I feel a cold on my cheek where my tear had been. I close my eyes, and breathe… a chill from deep down shook me and I suddenly feel alert. Lucid. Serene.

An oasis of comfort washes over me clearing away the fog created by fear.

There is nothing I can do to change my human potential, either I can or I can’t.

And I’m lucky enough to be able to find out.

Tomorrow, I meet myself for the first time.

Saving my Life.

Approx read time <4 min

Tonight, I want it to just be about me.

Oh, I’ve never noticed this before with the words “time” and “spent”.  Put that way, it’s like you’re spending a currency.  Something that is finite.  What would the value of money be if it were infinite.  Same with life.  There would be no value if we were all immortal and lived forever.

Today is the last day this will happen.  I’ll never be 28 years and 96 days old again.  Just like it’s impossible for me to be 21 again.

Time just seems to move so slowly, that, as children, we don’t see ourselves getting taller.  Or see a wrinkle at first.  We look in the mirror and think we see the exact same thing as we did yesterday and take for granted the facts of life… that we truly are different.  That we truly are older.

That we truly are one day closer to the day we die.  Oh it will happen.  To every motherfuckin living thing on Earth.

Even the people who spend their entire lives taking more and more and wanting it all for themselves- only to die in a moment.  And the ones who spend more time at work than at home with their families.  In the end, no one can take anything with them and will always no longer have what they had worked their whole lives for and perhaps even screwed people over for.  They had sacrificed the wrong thing, their time, and can’t ever get any of it back.

For most people, reading these words should be a bit of a reality check.

These are real things I’m saying here. Not my opinions or thoughts on life.  You’ve now spent about an entire minute of your life reading this post and you won’t be getting it back.  To me, that deserves some form of gratitude.

I actually do listen, think about what ppl say, and respond accordingly.  I figure, if I am going to be here anyway then goddamit am I going to make whatever it is that I’m doing worthwhile.  I also can’t get myself to save my energy and not pay attention.  If I say a bland comment, or succumb to worthless small talk, I start to feel bad about myself.  I just can’t stand wasting my time.  If right now isn’t worth it, and I can’t find interest in any of it no matter what, then I’d rather die.

There will be nothing in the world that can get in my way of leaving a situation.  I refuse to have my time forced to be worthless.  To volunteer for a moment that is for sure going to be forgotten, and for sure doesn’t fucking matter, then I will simply walk away.  Awkward as fuck, or rude, or whatever, I do not care.

I find it more offensive for whoever it is to want to keep me in that situation, whether they understand or not.  I do not respect the person who gets mad at me for refusing to waste life for even a few minutes.

Fuck them, the more mad they get, the more confident I am that I’ll never see them again.

I hate wasted time so much that I’ve become incredible – and quite creative – at finding interest in other people or whatever mundane situation I might find myself in.  I utterly loath the thoughts “when is this going to be over”, “when are they leaving”, or just spending anxious moments waiting for a day to be a part of the past.  Shame on all of that.

I mean, why would someone want to be a part of a moment that is absolutely pointless.  They must not have the wherewithal to be deeply honest with themselves, but I can’t take on their flaws and participate in that ultimate ignorance.  Something or someone simply IS worth your life and time, or it simply ISN’T.  And hangin in there, perhaps to prevent from hurting someone else’s feelings, is not a noble act.  Find a way to leave the situation, and if you care enough, find a way to do it nicely.  But definitely… definitely… get yourself out of there.

That said, those thoughts do cross my mind, but I do not give them much mental energy.  I acknowledge and move on.  Repeating those phrases too many times perpetuates a cycle of hypocrisy.  Before you even begin to realize it, you’ll be immersed in a pointless life.  And you’ll hate everything…. Everything you do from the job you work at all day long, to the house you live at day after day, to the ones you choose to live the rest of your days with.

Rude, blunt, awkward, embarrassing, it’ll be over soon.  And everyone will be better off, not just you.

The easier way to do all this of course, is to become good with communication and reading people, so you know what they need to hear in order to not have them get their feelings hurt or take offense in some way.  There is always more than one way to deal with something.  Emotions sometimes push us into only seeing one side of the spectrum of what’s possible, or what can be expected in the future.  But yes, many ways good, bad, and otherwise are always available to us when dealing with people or in situations of any kind.  Really.  The ones that don’t fall in line with your feelings are just harder to see and believe- but they are always there.

Just do it anyways and try.  Perhaps you’ll be better at it next time.  You’ll never regret dealing with something and removing yourself from the situation that, again, is wasting your precious days and time.  Life really really is too damn short.  And that’s exactly what you’ll be saving… Life.

Monopoly Thoughts…

Monopoly Thoughts…

approx.  2 min

Don’t prejudge, this is more positive a message than its introduction makes it seem…


Dying hurts.  Not me dying, but someone else… it always surprises me how it never gets easier the more it happens.  Each death accumulates, even if you bottle a few up without grieving too hard.

I can’t think of anything else that stays hard, or even gets harder like that.

How it kind of shatters your current way of life, or cracks the lenses through which life is being viewed forever seeing things differently.

How it makes me re-evaluate what’s really important by involuntarily thrusting your soul into a deeper understanding of what mortality truly is…

Moreso, that I’m on my very own train of mortality.

It’s hard to get through my head that everyone around me is on the same mortal train.


Harder still, that everything, and I mean every thing¸ has to face mortality as well.  The stuff I own, the house I live in, landscapes like waterfalls, and even the sun rising has a clock.

To find meaning under these limiting fundamental laws of being alive it becomes a sort of twisted Monopoly game of players all on different levels… all trying to “win”, and most suffering through losing slowly.

Sometimes very slowly.

Except in Life Monopoly everyone is starting out with different banks and real estate levels, physical and mental abilities, environments, etc.

With the Game Monopoly, the best player is always the last one around.  And by themselves.

e43e41_7c4bf12be9acc697c81f11185c8e1a2b.jpg_1024The reward for being better than everyone else is being alone?!

So I do believe wanting to win is something a majority seeks, because only a minority achieves.  And it’s rarity is what makes it curious.

Or perhaps it’s simply the label of “winner” that is sought after, not necessarily what might be next.

It seems silly to have a drive to be worse off than others with such ferocity as people do with winning. To be better than others, who wouldn’t want that.

Winning in the traditional sense, and having the “stuff” to prove it, is not a good way to ride the mortal train of life.

Winning has a different definition when the game doesn’t last forever.

Even though real Monopoly games sometimes feel like they last forever… you’re still suffering through to be the best-alone person in the room.

It’s the one’s who did their best while not overly screwing over their fellow players or taking things too seriously.  They had the best time.  And they’re the ones with the most friends when the game is over too.

Double win.



Pursuit of Optimism…

approx read time:  4 min

I’m a little cold… theatrem

I’m not complaining; I get to feel my skin in a unique way.

Goose bumps… Yes.

Not that I like them,  I don’t.  But I feel something.  I mean I always do, but Goose bumps feel different… or more [of whatever].

I find myself, as years add up, making an effort in taking the high road in all situations I find myself in.  Perhaps from sheer curiosity, I at least try very hard to see what could possibly be positive and optimistic.

I objectify myself from the situation, and delve into deep thought on whether or not it is my poor perspective, or pessimism, that is creating my shitty circumstance…

Which would mean I am creating my own shitty situation and bad feelings, not so much  what is actually happening.

Bad things happen, I get curious…  because I do believe words like “bad” and “wrong” is a choice of perspective.

Life is not good nor bad, those are simply labels we choose to use.

How we interpret and label what happens to us, happens in our minds.

When things seem really bad, and I’m having trouble seeing how it can be twisted into something good, neutral, or otherwise, I am afraid that I am at the brink of my philosophical depth.  And I may not be aware enough to know what the high road is.

I ask…

What is the good from this?

If optimism exists, then what would (or could) it look like?

What other ways can this be interpreted?

How might other’s interpret the things that have happened?

If there’s something good to find, then what??


Perhaps, I do not bare the awareness of consciousness or the depth of soul to answer those questions at all times, and I get distracted and succumb to the heat of the moment.

In most situations, optimism is there if you look.  I guess my point is that sometimes you can look and look but you may not be physically able to see far enough in front of you where the optimism plainly lies in a field full of shit.

If you don’t know it’s there, then it essentially does not exist as a reality.

I fear my ignorance narrows my optimistic potential.  That’s what I’m trying to say.

May sound stupid to you, but it’s profound to me…

To have a problem that has an answer— you just have to find it—- them’s comfort words to me.  If there is a good and bad side (and many others), then what and where are the good ones hiding?

But just having a problem doesn’t mean an answer is guaranteed, or that I am guaranteed to find it, or are guaranteed that I will even know that I’ve found it and should stop searching.

So this can be quite discouraging, to search and not really know when to stop searching.

Right and wrong are words of the future.  They have no present tense definition

Let me explain…

I’ve made a “bad” decision and it turned out good, or I was better off from it.

And I’ve made “good” decisions that landed me in terrible situations.

The words are diluted with interpretations that it sometimes feels like both are happening at the same time.

Am I supposed to feel comfort in what the transient definition of right and wrong are… at this moment??

Is it something to grasp onto for dignity, possibly perpetuating victimized mindsets, when something does not go my way???!

Should I just say,

“Well,  I did what I thought was right.”

…. and surrender all future control I might’ve had?!


The answer is no.


I have been, but I will no longer.


Right and wrong, are not the only classes of thought when you are living in the moment.

There’s maybe, sometimes, except, and besides.

There’s politics and gray area.

There’s loyalty and trust, promises and pinky promises, alliances and pacts.

And of course there’s the words lying and deceit for when promises are not kept and when loyalty is misrepresented.

The words right and wrong are mere minorities in a world full of words made to express excuses and justifications.

Or again, maybe “right” and “wrong” are simply not appropriate for use in the present tense.

I shant achieve any level of comfort on the basis that right and wrong does not exist universally; both across cultures, and across time.

The words Right and Wrong are mirages that cloud our judgement; a heavy fog on the road to self actualization and congruency.

It’s like trying to hit a moving target by classifying everything I see and do with just 2 words. 

It would be God’s greatest gift to me to relieve my mind of the words “right” and “wrong”. 


What….  Oh what…  Would I do without those words.

How things go.

How things go.

approx read time:  3 min

The pictures on the wall are full of smiling faces.  Everyone was all so happy then. 

Obviously, right?

It would be quite outside the norm to take pictures of non happy people.

I grew fascinated by them.  Each picture was a glimpse into a past reality, allowing me to see just how much things and people have changed.

What was once new and recent, is now old and out dated. 

I’ll never share the same household as my brother and parents, like we were in that photo. Now my brother and I have more robust individual lives of our own, making it hard to see each other nowadays.

Here’s the first time I held my niece in the hospital, barely opening her eyes. 

I remember looking down upon her, in awe of holding this fragile new addition to our family.  But now I’m facing a wall, glaring at a scene of myself holding her from across the room, where the camera was when the picture was taken. 

I’m here as a viewer this time, not the main character.

I browse the other now “old’ pictures…  All of them, people smiling at the camera unaware of what happens next.  

I’ll probably never run into that dude again; I’ll never be in that country again (I hope); they’re divorced;  she had a bunch of kids; he’s got a beard now… and I have a new scar on my face.

And here’s my best friend who is no longer with me today. 

We were happy that day. 

Yeesh.  How about another shot.

I bought this bottle as a gift for a good friend of mine (different friend); who’s no longer a good friend of mine… hence the scar on my face.

Too bad for him.  Good bottle.

I cheers to these memories all the same. Two dimensional, happy glimpses of my life as it once was; regardless of whatever happened afterward. 

Some haven’t changed much. 

I’m still engaged to the beautiful girl in that picture, and my niece is still brightening up rooms with every little laugh she makes.

Some have changed the most.

That last day with my best friend was a good day. 

So what now…

Good things.  Bad things.  It all collects into an ever massive pile as we grow older.

I got a phone call the other day from my mother, after I had just received some good news that had me feeling pretty good.

Of course, I answered as I always do with her- in a hurry.  As if I’m too self-absorbed and busy for a few minutes of my own mother’s life.

Apparently that’s exactly what I am.

My grandmother passed 3 years ago that same day.  She had to remind me. 

Humility struck me quick and it was revealed to me that I will probably never forget her “death-date”, nor my father’s.  So this day, that I so carelessly treated, is probably quite significant to my mother still.

Guilt-trip aside…

I thought, things may change for better or for worse. But in this picture, both of my parents will still be happy and smiling, long after their deaths, for me to fondly reminisce. 

There’s one thing in common about all of these pictures… something has changed since each of them was taken.

Here’s a good one of my high school buddies, tight knit group we had.  To none of our faults, the changes that took place after that picture drifted us all on different paths.  Still love those guys over a decade later.

A sandy Iraq photo with a few Marines I spent every hour of every day with- playing spades and smoking hookah, laughing, arguing, fighting, filling sandbags…

To none of our faults, I’ll probably never see a few of them for the rest of my life.

I feel fine, however.  Content if anything. 

I used to long for these old times and feel a bit of inner turmoil that I couldn’t go back.  A past I was once immersed in with all my senses, has now been diminished to a flat, 4 by 6 picture.  I didn’t trust that my brain would harbor enough of the once reality, and I wanted more to hold on to.

What happens when you forget the “thousand words” contained in a picture?

I used to feel like I would diminish as well, forgetting what was once lived.

Perhaps that’s why I hated having pictures of faces on my walls and refrigerator.  They were distracting from my living in the present, compelling me to dwell on the things that have changed and to exhaustively try to remember every detail of the past.

Good and bad happens.

Yes you can deal with things properly, but you can’t forget about them.  Just gets thrown atop the ever growing pile of things that happen to us, in the form of memories- both good and bad.

Honestly, I find the extremes a little numbing.  Sometimes I am unsure of whether I’m supposed to feel happy or sad, being pulled in both directions of two best friends smiling to one of them not being here today.

Both thoughts come to mind, and I often struggle to feel anything at all.

Perhaps it’s that “numb” feeling that is the “content-ness” I feel.  Fooled by thinking I’m more resilient than I am by not dwelling as I used to.

Or it could be the beginning of acceptance and taking ownership of those changes.  And owning them as my new present reality.

Maybe then pictures won’t be so distracting.


But I’m good, though.  I realized that’s just how things go. 



Men’s Locker Room Etiquette

Continued from…    Men’s Room Etiquette

I’ve been exposed to some alarming habits that take place in Men’s Locker Rooms.  

And no, Gentlemen. Using the Locker Room benches to stretch while nude is not a good time have a political discussion.

This guide is meant to ensure a non offensive, non obtrusive, and private way of carrying yourself.

…even if the guy in the locker room is letting his junk air dry.

General Rule:

It is the Man’s responsibility to show consideration and awareness when entering a Men’s Locker Room. 

The Man is not to impose on another Man in any way, unless absolutely necessary.


Do’s and Don’ts

You May:  

  • Share a locker with a buddy.
  • Have a fellow Man look over your fully-clothed body for flawed appearance, such as missing a button on a shirt, problem with a tie, etc.  [see note below]
  • Have a conversation while changing.  To stop dressing/undressing to talk while nude for more than a half a second is a violation.

Note:  Lint Roller’s 

Lint Roller assistance is fine.  Take pride in a Man’s trust in you to help him look his best.    However…

Lint Rolling your fellow Man will have a strict focus on the job at hand. 

For those few seconds, you are an acting dry cleaner only paying attention to fabric. 

If there’s areas of the fabric that the Man can reach/see, he can Roll those areas himself. 

Even if he insists, you insist back saying you’re not his b****  

[mens locker room talk, see last section for more on Locker Room talk].

You May Not!

  • Borrow another dudes deodorant, unless it is a spray.
  • Ask for help in any way until you have shielded your genitals from natural sight, unless of course there’s a medical emergency.
  • Stretch while nude and toweless.  Use either Icy Hot or get dressed again and stretch in the appropriate calisthenics area.

Proper Shower Etiquette:

There are several shower set ups I’ve seen; the single shower with flimsy curtain, and the “community” shower room.  Both share a pre-shower checklist.

The Pre-shower checklist…

  1. Strip down to boxers, briefs, or underwear of choice.
  2. Wrap towel around your waste.
  3. Underneath the towel, take off your underwear of choice.
  4. Stay Tidy.
    • Locker- put everything in it or neatly in front.
    • No locker- fold/roll clothes up and stack on top of shoes, and placed under a bench discretely out of the way
  5. Remember your shower shoes!  Trust that you don’t want to find out why.

You may ask another guy for shower gel or maybe- just maybe- a towel or some types of lotions, but keep these sort of favors to an absolute necessity.

You’re ready.  Continue to the Shower.

Single Shower Procedure…

The Man will…

  • Wait until he is completely in the shower hang up towel.
  • Dry off in the shower, wrapping the towel around waste before exiting
  • Make sure he has all of his ‘stuff’.  Once Man leave’s area and it’s occupied again, there’s no going back for forgotten items.  The Man will accept that they are gone forever…

Special Considerations…

Note 1- Water may be turned on ahead of time and tested as long as there isn’t any drawn out lengths of time or awkward reaching for anything.

Note 2- Conversations between Men that are in separate individual showers are acceptable once curtain has been closed for at least one of the Men involved in the conversation.

Community Shower Procedure…

Relevant Terms…

Meat Gazing  –  When a Man is caught looking in the general direction of another Man’s genitals.  He is said to be “gazing meat”.

The Man will…

  • Ensure full adherence to the Pre-shower checklist above
  • Face the wall while showering
    • If turning around is necessary, line of sight is not to go below 45 degrees towards the floor.
  • Use a towel if not alone.  Air dry at home.  Men are getting all too comfortable conversing in the nude.

Honestly, that’s it, Community Showering is simple.  And sharing shower soap/gel is more acceptable in these situations.

Conversations and jokes can be had, but again, extremely limited eye contact if any.

Listen.  We all know what a dick looks like. 

None of this is to say looking at dicks is a problem, I know and highly respect some gay guys. 

But to get back to the general rule, consideration and awareness should be exercised to the point where it would take effort and positioning for another dude to check out the package on another dude. 

That way there was a conscious choice to view the naked Man, as oppose to a shocking surprise

Whether the Man being “checked out” cares is up to his efforts to reduce occasions where his package is exposed. 

A great philosopher once said:

“Public places require private practices; the responsibility lies with the Nude Man to protect his innocence.”

There’s no ADD when you are naked, getting distracted shouldn’t be happening.  Stay focused on the task at hand.

I’ve seen more un-welcomed dicks in my life from community showers and locker rooms than I would like to admit.  This sort of thing is simply a part of dealing with community showers in the military, gyms, pools, or the like. 

It’s peripheral vision and sudden uncontrollable – and regretful– glances. 

Any Man who says this has never happened to him, is a Meat Gazing liar. 

Exceptions to Meat Gazing: 

Example… if a black guy turns too quickly and knocks a soap dispenser off the wall, it would be rude of me not to be able to repeat that story with accurate details.

Locker Room Talk

Oh yeah.  Sorry but Trump was spot on with the “Locker Room” talk.  Surprising to most Women, Men talk A LOT in Men’s Locker Rooms. 

This is where some Men get advice on life; anywhere from  medical questions, life lessons learned, news and current events, how to meet Women, or even pharmaceutical biology.

I’ve seen the dumbest ass hole know more about how L-Arginine dilates the blood vessels allowing more oxygen to enter your muscle cells, encouraging faster mitochondrial activity- ergo more energy for more reps bro! 

A sore muscle or weird foot problem or even an unidentified burning sensation can all be diagnosed with treatment recommendations; there’s plenty of ‘Men’-dical experts. [ha. couldn’t help myself.]

That being said, Men’s Locker Room Talk is as credible as wikipedia.  You can always expect opinionated-facts, exaggerations, or inflated stories of the past. 

For example, the “10” he got with last night was probably a “6-pack” kind of “10”.  Or perhaps he didn’t get laid at all.

It could even be past fights that they notoriously won, great feats against the odds, or accomplishments they were either a part of or viewed from afar but somehow influenced.

Somehow, none of this is considered to be a lie if spoken in a Men’s Locker Room.

If you’re a Man reading this, you might be giggling from something you’ve once heard.  For the women, just be glad you don’t have to listen to it.

View Men’s Room Etiquette

Or Move on to:  Anecdote and Conclusion of Men’s Room/Locker Room Etiquette (Link coming soon…)

Men’s Room Etiquette

So there I was minding my own business when I realized some “unspoken” rules should, in fact, be spoken after all.

I’ve recently come across some confusion with Men’s Room Etiquette, and I wasn’t sure how to react.

I am not the one to discuss game stats or weather trends while standing next to another dude during the sacred flow.  Remember:

 Silence is as golden as the flow of urine.

Needless to say, I felt compelled to clear up discrepancies in a public and shareable format and cease any further debate.

General Rule:

It is the Man’s responsibility to show consideration and awareness when entering a Men’s Room.  The Man is not to impose on another Man in any way, unless absolutely necessary.


Common and Acceptable Phrases:

  • Shake hands with the President
  • Drop the Browns off at the Super Bowl
  • See a man about a horse
  • Skip to the loo
  • Put out a fire
  • Drain the vein (or main vein)
  • Drop the kids off at the pool
  • Head, John, or Can
  • More will be added in the comments section!


A Man is found to be in violation if He…

  • Shake hands with another Man for any reason.  Introductions and respectful greetings can – and will – wait until after the Men have rested; hence Restroom.
  • Sparks conversation.  The Man should wait 30 to 45 seconds until the snake is back in its cage, and then state his incredible insights about the weather that couldn’t wait.
    • Or if a Man takes offense to a guy not carrying the conversation, regardless of importance of topic- especially while you are both putting out urinal fires.
  • Brings food into a Men’s Room.  Drinks are ok.
  • Shakes more than twice.  Means your playing with it. In which case, head to the nearest stall.
  • Splashes water.  When a Man leaves the sink area, there shouldn’t be puddles of water everywhere.
  • Misses the urinal.  Stand closer, or get hand warmers for your human thermometer before you make your fellow Man have to wash his shoes.  Worst case, throw some brown paper towels on top of it and kick it around with your own shoes.
    • Minor transgressions of the occasional side of the urinal splashing, are not considered a “miss”.
  • Miss the trash can with a basketball-style toss.  This is when a Man tosses out trash from a distance greater than 3 feet, misses, and does not pick it up and try again.
  • Make eye contact.  In almost all other cases except a Men’s Room, eye contact is a sign of respect and attentiveness…  In the Men’s Room, any eye contact beyond an occasional glance – maybe – is a sign of disrespect, and attentiveness is a poor Restroom trait.

Proper Urinal Etiquette:

Relevant Terms… [does not apply to urinals with the short privacy walls separating them.]

Parallel Parking  –  occurs when a Man  “parallel parks” himself between two urinals being used.  See #4 in below example.

Every Other Rule  – there will be 1 urinal of space between urinal users.

Situational Example…

If there are 5 urinals next to each other (labeled 1 through 5 respectively), this means there are 3 usable urinals available.  2 are reserved for times of high demand.

This is the correct procedure:

  1. First Man will choose an odd number of either urinals 1, 3, or 5, but never 2 or 4 as it limits the options of other Men that may enter after.
  2. Second Man will choose his urinal using the Every Other Rule, leaving at least 1 urinal of space between them.

    You’re an ass hole if…

    Say the First Man chose Urinal 1.  It’s an ass hole move to choose urinal 4 because if a Third Man were to walk in, he would have no viable urinal options with the required 1 urinal space of separation, set forth by the Every Other Rule.

    Whatever the Third Man chooses, he will be wrong.  In this case, the stall or simply waiting are his options.

  1. Third Man will choose the last available urinal upholding the Every Other Rule.
  2. Fourth Man… now this Fourth Man is at high risk for violating the Parallel Parking Rule.

This creates chaos and should be avoided except for extreme wait lines, in which case Men’s Room Etiquette adjusts to the situation.

The Fourth Man will have to wait the 30-45 seconds, or use a stall.

Parallel Parking is especially awkward when, out of 5 urinals, 3 in a row are being used, leaving two lone urinals dry with confusion.

Don’t be the one to choose urinal 2, when 1 and 3 are in use.

If a Man were to mess up the rotation and choose an even number of 2 or 4, the Every Other Rule still applies.

Proper Stall Etiquette:

Relevant Terms…   3 Methods of Protection

  1. Hover Method*–  Make a fist and place it on the wall behind you, giving you stability and leverage to relieve yourself a few inches above the seat.
  2. TPS Methodor “Toilet Paper the Seat” – lining the rim of the seat with carefully placed strips of toilet paper, creating ample protection from whatever horrible history the public porcelain seat has been through.  A minimum of one-ply should be good enough.
  3. FIIG Method**or the “Fuck It I’m Going” – taking a risk by sitting down without seat protection.

*Great for porta johns.

**Not recommended for porta johns.

Stall Etiquette :

Stalls are not meant to be places of comfort while publicly shitting.

It is where Men can seek refuge in dangerously close circumstances they may find themselves in.

Women use stalls every time for both things, but when a Man walks into a stall, it’s safe to assume what kind of “shit” he’ll be tending to.

  1. Keep things brief.  As soon as the emergency is over, get out of there. Don’t take phone calls or watch too many YouTube videos.  The Man can take his time when he gets home.
  2. Be considerate.  If a Man is knowingly in a stall when you walk in, and there is not a sound in the whole room, flush the urinal out of consideration to break the silence.

Stay brief as well, because chances are he’s clenching back a losing battle and time is running out.  He is clenching for your sake, show your appreciation by drowning out the silence.

3.        Express yourself.  You may draw/write on the stall doors, regardless of how nice the rest of the building is.  It gives Men a good laugh in when they find themselves in shitty situations.


It’s important not to forget about the Up-Splash.  This can often be remedied by preventative toilet paper layer placed on the surface of the water.

If you are a victim, contact your primary care physician.

Post-Relief Etiquette:

It is mandatory to wash hands thoroughly after visiting a stall, or touching any handles.

Exception…  Automatic flushing urinals allow for a “no hand wash” option.  Men do not have to touch anything at all to take a piss at a urinal except a zipper, everything else is experienced and precise finagling.

Next up:  Men’s Locker Room Etiquette

Matador… that’s the word.

I have a painting on my wall of a – shit, can’t remember what the word is- but the guy that fucks with Bulls and flaps his flimsy red napkin in an arena.  

They taunt the Bulls and everyone cheers.

The dude shakes out a red rug in front of thousands of people and let’s a 1 ton bull sprint towards him trying to end his life.

I mean, I stop shitting when just ONE person walks into the men’s room.

He has lead cannon balls for testicles compared to me and I walk past a picture of him without a thought.

Well here’s your damn kudos.

[The featured image is the exact painting I have]

Killing with Kindness

Killing with Kindness

Oh, that feeling I get when a sarcastic fucking ass hole gives me the ol’…

“Have a great day!!”

Complete with an exaggerated friendly nod like we were best friends from childhood.  He had to pass me 3 times, and said it loud with a stupid grin on his face each time.

Fucking. Ass hole.

It was apparent he was proud of himself for thinking up this witty comeback to our little disagreement, assuming he could beckon a rise out of me.

He almost did, but he’ll never know that.

I tricked the outside of my body to do the exact opposite of what the inside felt like doing.  And while this bought me several minutes to talk myself down to serenity

Some notable thoughts crossed my mind…


Mostly because I needed to reassure my ego [so it can let go of its hold on me] I recognized that if I unleashed myself, there’s no doubt I’d have a choice on the level of pain I wanted him to feel until I felt an internal sense of Justice being served.

Thus relief from the fury.

Being a Sergeant in the Marines, I’ve been in enough ‘altercations’ in my life where it was clear to me this dude had no idea what animal he was poking a stick at.

Just thinking about that made me feel better momentarily.


He drove a shitty car, wore shitty clothes, overall unkempt appearance, I judged him to have a more pathetic life than me; and with less opportunity. 

Assuming my judgments were close to truth, he had a dead end job making just enough money to get by, with inadequate retirement funds, and will have a shitty life until he dies.

And because I’ve proved myself to be superior to him in my head, he became less of a “threat” to be taken seriously. 


Still angry but moving towards reason, my next thought…

Even though he’s being an ass hole today – and to ‘super important me’doesn’t mean he needs to be taught a lesson. 

And I certainly don’t need to be the teacher.

I barely have time for my family, I’m not about to spend more time teaching this piece of shit when to shut his mouth.

Thought #4!

This thought was a bit calmer…  It didn’t go as far as remorse or guilt, but I concluded that I was being an ignorant douche bag for thinking his clothes and shoes were shitty.  And that I shouldn’t assume he had a shitty job, shitty future, and shitty life altogether; just by how I see him today.

Even if I was correct, I began to feel awkward about having felt the need to belittle and insult him in my head.

Do I really need to criticize someone’s appearance and life choices in order to calm down and make myself feel better?

I expect that’s what a shitty person would do.

Thought #5

This thought made me suddenly realize what was actually going on…

He was just being “nice” to me.  No actual threat was happening.  He had already chosen his weapon of being super duper kind, and was not going to escalate further.

He had passed the ball to me, and I generously caught it.  And responded with 3 variations of, “Thanks, you too, brother.”

At first, I wasn’t sure if it actually was as genuine as it sounded.  Either I’m a terrific actor, or I’m growing up.

Thought #6

My next thought made me realize that the powerful emotional cocktail that flowed through my veins was the main source of my inner turmoil; not even that ass hole.

The intense emotions made me feel like a balloon packed tight with air, ever more pushing the limits of the cheap latex material, and awaiting explosion any moment. 

My emotions literally blinded my logic and objectivity of the situation.

So a sarcastic fucking ass hole taught me a good lesson.  He allowed me to see a flawed part of me that I wanted to overcome.

I would hope that I can be a person that overcomes tearing people down [whether in my head or not] to make myself feel better about bad situations.

I don’t need to prove myself superior, because I’m really not superior to anyone or anything. 

We are all on the same level, just walking different paths.

I want to be someone who respects others and accepts everyone as they are.  The most I feel is acceptable behavior is to influence others by holding myself to a high standard and living by example; even if its as simple as admitting when I’m wrong when interacting with others or picking up trash on the street.

In conclusion…

Even though my thoughts are my own, I didn’t want to enable myself by justifying my terrible thoughts because he “deserved” it.  As if I were God and get to decide what’s just and fair.

After all, I don’t want to be a shitty person.  And I don’t want to justify being a shitty person because other people are shitty to me.

All that leads to is everyone getting doused in shit.


I’m by no means a poet (And I know it). Still, read on. This one is as Live and raw as it gets.

Tick, Tock

Go on time. Keep passing, keep passing.

I find myself paralyzed. Staring.

I can’t move, and I can’t think. Tick.

Another second, another minute… Panic.


Stay calm. This will pass, this will pass.

A prison cell with 4 walls. Collapse.

Oblivion, it’s pulling me in. Relinquish.

Locked up by seconds, prisoner to minutes. Until I diminish.


Consumed. The world is vast. It’s so vast.

All the things that were and was. Create the past.

Accumulating as I hopelessly watch. In pain.

Bound by ticks, restrained by tocks. Am I still sane?


So go ahead.  Tick, tock.  Tick, tock.

You’ve ticked before me, you’ll tock after, fucking clock.

Never early, and never late. Quick as a blink.

Ticking perfectly, tocking persistently. Keeping all of life in sync.