When a man wants what he can't have, he isn't much of a man...especially in the shower.

Sometimes, a man doesn't act much like a man. In my case, that would be majority of the time. When a man wants something he can't have he tends to act a fool. For example: I want to be able to eat in the shower, but no! I can't due to the problems that will arise if attempted; however I tried anyway and needless to say it was a disaster of great proportions.

                It all started while I was watching television the other day and “Seinfeld” came on.  It was the episode where George decided to implement food into the bedroom, meaning he wanted to eat while having sex.  This gave me an idea.  What if I could incorporate food into something I love?  I happen to love taking showers; it’s quite relaxing.  I want to eat in the shower!           Is it possible to pull off?  I wanted this more than anything.

I began planning.  I thought that Lean Pockets would be the best choice of food as they’re delicious and easy to make.  Attempt number one was about to take place!  I cooked two lean pockets and went into my bathroom.  I started running the water and waited for the mirrors to steam to make sure the water was nice and hot before I went in.  I slowly removed my clothes, only for the purposes of a sexy/traumatizing description I could later write down in blog format.  I stepped in and operation shower eater was a go!

As soon as I stepped in, the lean pocket began to get soggy and gross.  I attempted to take a bite out of it and it slipped from my hand and into the water below (as there’s always a clog since I don’t clean my tub often).  Attempt one had failed.  No matter, I can always try again right?

I cooked two more lean pockets.  I decided to try and cover them with a plastic grocery bag in order to keep them from getting soggy.  The idea was to stick my head into the bag and eat them.  I did just that and the water from the shower head caused the bag to collapse as it’s a high pressure head, then the bag filled with water and the lean pockets were destroyed.  I was upset, very upset.

I left the shower and walked into the kitchen.  There, at the table, was my Mother eating a lean pocket with ease.  I got extremely jealous and upset.  I grabbed her plate and began to yell at the food: “Fuck you!!  After I’ll I’ve done for you this is how you repay me??  I’m always there for you and you can’t even allow yourself to be eaten in the shower!  You’re ugly and stupid and you don’t deserve a man as good as me!”  Tears began to spill from my eyes as I instantly regretted what I had said to my microwavable companion.  “I’m sorry!” I said, “I just got a little crazy, please forgive me.  It won’t happen again I promise, I’m just not myself right now.”  I was hoping the lean pocket would forgive me for my behavior; all the while my Mother was staring at me in horror as I cried and begged to the the meat filled, low calorie pastry. 

I took the half eaten lean pocket back into the shower with me so I could smooth things over, however it did not go as planned.  The processed turkey and broccoli slipped from the bread crust and onto the bathtub floor then washed down the drain…I was alone.

The lean pocket had left me, and who could blame it?  Not only was I going to eat it and digest it into pure liquid, uncomfortable fecal matter, but I had exhibited unwarranted jealous and irrational behavior.  I wanted something I couldn’t have, and unfortunately could not accept that.  That’s what men do; we act like maniacs when we are denied what we believe should be ours.  In reality, I should give up my pursuit of lean pocket shower bliss and move on, but I won’t.  “Why?” you may ask yourselves; because I am a man, and because I am a man I do indeed…suck.

Ohhhh...yep....that was my penis.

      

                I hate being in this situation.  It’s happened before, and the result is always the same; it hurts.  This time however something different happened…I had a great epiphany.

                It all started when my bladder was full.  I made haste to the restroom in order to relieve myself.  I was in such a hurry that I paid little attention as to where certain things were placed, and zipped up quite quickly.  That’s when it happened.  I had done the unthinkable.  I zipped my penis into my pant zipper.  Needless to say, I was in a predicament of great proportion (no pun intended). 

                As I stood there in agonizing pain, staring down at my pathetically injured man hood, things began to rush into my head a million miles an hour; experiences I had that may have led to this very moment of self doubt and loathing.

                “Look at yourself”, I said allowed, ”You spend the majority of your time daydreaming of a fantasy that someday you’ll have the one you love yet you can’t even take a proper piss without getting your tally whacker caught in your trousers!” I couldn’t help but agree with myself.  I know that if I were a woman I would not want to invest in a man who cannot even go to the bathroom without causing serious injury.  Even Benjamin Button could go pee pee like a normal person, and he was, for all intensive purposes, a fucking freak.

                “Shouldn’t you be on stage tonight practicing rather than messing about with that pathetic little termite you call a cock?” I said to me.  I was right again, though I could not understand why I was yelling at me in such a hard manner when I could have really used some support right about then.  Never the less, I was right.  Why on Earth am I not in downtown Salt Lake City right now performing and getting stage time?  The epiphany was beginning to come to fruition.

                I remembered an experience I had at a bar months earlier.  I was sitting on the back patio smoking a cigarette.  I man was setting up his guitar getting ready to play.  His dog was laying down beside him in the shade.  When the man sat on the stool, guitar in hand, and approached the microphone, my eyes were amazed!  This man was blind.  His eyes were pure white with scars around them and it was obvious by the harness on his canine companion that this was his helper.  The man began to play his guitar flawlessly, better than I could have ever hoped to play.  The most amazing part was not his ability to play, however it was his smile.  This man did not break smile once.  He was happy, and so was his dog.  They did not have any cares in the world.  It was as if nothing else existed to this man other than music and his dog.  He was having a transcendental experience, like Thoreau floating along Walden Pond, or Siddhartha climbing from Samsara and reaching nirvana.  This man and his dog were at peace, and I now think back on it in envy.  Here I am walking around with a pseudo intellectual ruse, wanting a woman I can’t have, drinking profusely and throwing up in peoples lawns, bitching about how the world owes me just because I can’t afford the new apple product this month, not finishing my homework because I played way too much world of warcraft and thinking it’s not my fault, yelling at myself in my bathroom in a British accent for some fucked up reason, and getting my penis caught in my own zipper…yet this blind man was just happy to be alive!

                As I stared at my sad, injured member looking back on these things the epiphany came.  It wasn’t some philosophical revelation that I need to change, or an "I found God because I almost lost my penis to a prison of copper and denim" type of moment. No.  It was a simple fact that at that very moment I came to except.  I, Brian Nathaniel Pope, do indeed….suck.

“Zzzzzzzzzzziiiiiiiiiiiippppppp!”