Boners and the Toilet Bowl: The Education of Steph Shih

I've woken up with Morning Wood every day since I was 13 years old. This has caused several awkwardnesses, raised eyebrows, blows jobs. (Yeah right. I could never lure the dog into the room while I was asleep) Friend's have been delighted to see me awake so early in the morning, thinking they have caused such delights. Others have been less than thrilled to see me at attention at such a tender hour, or rather any hour at all.

Nevertheless, this is a fact of life and has nothing to do with them. It really such means I have to tinkle on the ivories. My mother noticed this when I was around 15.

Mommy Dearest. (she doesn't like my blog)

Waking up in the Woods, always meant that my first activity in the morning was not chocolate syrup covered self-indulgence, but taking a piss. This required a certain, maneuvering, a fancy footwork. For in order not to expose myself to mother who idled in the kitchen next to the bathroom burning my breakfast as I readied for school, I had to obscure my adamantine, usually by walking quickly with a crook in the back and my wang (or is Called General Tso's Chicken) tucked carefully beneath the elastic band of my boxers.

Attention: If you plan on using this strategy, you have to wear a t-shirt. Otherwise mommy will think you have cancer.

But the real snafu was when I had arrived at the pisser.

Let me make an admission: I sit to piss.

In the privacy of my own home, I will relax, take a seat, enjoy Reader's Digest or O Magazine.

But with a protuberance, this can become a fiasco, because the last thing I need is to place my Sesame Chicken on the dirtiest piece of porcelain in the house. So one must adjust to give the breakfast buddy some space, but this can actually create a trajectory that allows one to eject a stream of urine between the toilet seat and the toilet.

Nothing is quite like Mommy Dear banging on the door demanding I clean the yellow off the white wall opposite the shitter as I am preparing to go to school.

Fortunately, a piss is usually a quick affair and I could the pocket the tiger with control.

The real problem was when I had the nocturnal tumescence and I had to drop the Jefferson's off at the lake house. This can be a problem. Not only are the precious wares in an unsanitary place bumpin' on the bowl, but the danger of disease or disfigurement seems accentuated by the discharge. The perils can be further enhanced with the possibility of splash back, yes, a real big one smacking the waves and sending a torrent of fecal fouled fluids on to the Morning Magnificence.

Come on Steph Shih, of course guys drop the deuce with an engorged member: haven't you ever given a blumpkin?