~ Public Pizzer Parade ~   11 comments

 

From the extreme shy guy to the Drunken Shwauncy Shwinger, there’s a place for every man in the Public Pizzer Parade. Don’t bother tryin ta look up ‘shwauncy’, cause I just made it up. If shwauncy were in the dicfictionary, it’s definition would read somethin along the lines ‘a boorishly self-indulgent to the tenth power with a good healthy lot of gorilla thrown into the mix. There’ll be a test later, so try not ta ferget that.

The poor sot whose first choice for a fine dining out experience is at some roadside greasy spoon on account they’s facilities are generally a one man water closet with a locking door. At very least, he can probly jam ‘is boot up agin the door while he takes care ‘a business. He’s the extreme shy guy, and puts you in mind of a character on Bonanza whom no-one ever sees goin fer a pizz. He’s a devout Leafs fan who’s never bin to a hockey game, no wonder why. When with no choice other than a multi stall pizzer, he’ll cross ‘is legs near til the juice is runnin down his thigh afore he slithers along the wall to the first empty crapper stall he sees, duck tapes all ‘a the cracks in the cubical so’s No-One sees his junk. He’s the guy never flushes, nor washes ‘is hands on account every other Dick is touched they’s penis, and may well ‘a pizzed on they’s own fingers right before touchin the flush handle, and faucet. The anxiety is probly such that he subconsciously squeezes the stream off to a painful dawdling dribble keeping him there three, four, mayhap five times longer than need be. There’s no doubt this guy’s looking at his own self while pizzin, telepathically giving his unit a little encouragement. “Come on big fella … let’s get ‘er done so’s we can get the hell out ‘a here!!”  A problem only to his own self, a rapid shake, and he’s out ‘a there.

Yer regular shy guy likes ta keep an eye on the public pizzer door when he feels the urge comin on, and plans his trips to a time when there won’t be many other fellas in there. Certainly a low enough number such that everyone can pizz comfterbly at every other stall. You can near hear an audible sigh of relief if’n he sees, and can beat that other shy guy to a corner stall what he can kind ‘a turn into the corner better keeping his junk concealed from view. He’s mayhap bin to a couple ‘a hockey games, but just as likely to ‘a missed that all important tie breaking goal. He’s no so much afraid someone might reach out ‘n grab his junk, he just don’t like the thought ‘a some guy gettin near enough ta catch a peak at it. A little paranoid, and most probly a wee tad homophobic. He’s probly lookin at a dot on the wall, or checkin out the grout job whilst whistling Dixie in effort to distract attention from his Johnson. Bettin on this guy to wash his hands would be much akin to bettin on the flip of a coin. Although, if’n he distracts his own self more than the onlookers and inadvertently flushes, it’s a safe bet that he will.

 The conscientious, or somewhat germ phobic pizzer reads, and follows all the instructions. He even washes his hands afore goin fer that pizz bein sure to hang on to a piece ‘a paper towel fer when he flushes. A wee mumble of “right on!!” will be heard if’n he haps across one ‘a they public pizzers with they automagic flush actuators. Ya gots ta Love that technology!! He prefers havin an empty stall betwixed he and the fella next, but will be ill at ease with whatever empty stall is available. Three good shakes ta get that last drop ‘a dew off ‘a the end ‘a the lily, and it’s off to the wash basin. Lather rinse and dry, again being sure to hang on to a piece ‘a towel to shut off the faucet, and as well to open the door on the way out. This is another dude you’ll not likely see at a hockey game, cause damn!! Who knows what nature ‘a germs there might be in that pizzer just waitin ta jump out, ‘n have way of ya by the short ‘n curlies.

He’s humble with an equal amount of confidence, and has ta shoot a pizz. No hidden agenda, no fear, and he’s not making a production of it. He’s a man on a mission! He’s yer run ‘a the mill Bill, and is as comfterble in a public pizzer as he is at home. He might wait for the line-up ta dwindle down, but quite comfy pizzin at the hockey game during intermission, and not to likely ta miss any ‘a the action for it. A couple ‘a quick shakes, and will most likely wash his hands unless there’s a line-up at the sinks. He’s the envy of the shy guys and the germ phobics, all of whom wish they could be just like him.

“How about that Leafs game last night” is how this fella generally starts with the small talk, and is the fella I’d most like ta turn towards and say, “yeah … how bout that game!!” whilst pizzin down his leg. This mook is the conversationalist, and figures it’d be productive ta introduce his-self, and engage in a little chit chat while he’s nothing better ta do with his dick in his hands. Ya know that chatty Cathy you can never seem ta get away from til ya’ve said “see ya later” a  trice dozen times?? There ya are getting the denim dragon tucked back into it’s lair, and buddy is worked way wantin ta know “how goes it with the wife ‘n kids??” He’d probly have the entire facility at the arena to his-self ceptin that no-one knew he was there til it was too late. He’s an excessive shaker, and probly only washes his hands if’n there’s someone ta chat with at the next sink.

The trumpeter is a fella what has ta prepare for a trip to the public pizzer. A couple ‘a three chilli dogs, and one ‘a they big gulp mugs ‘a carbonated soda has this fella prepped, and ready ta go. He’s a show-off, so you’ll know when it’s comin cause he always hikes up one azz cheek, curls his lip, and grits his teeth right afore that resounding blast ‘a azz gas escapes engulfing an area six pizzers wide. With a cloud ‘a grey green methane gas enough ta heat a small city, and toxic enough ta send his neighbouring pizzers away choked off half way through they’s task, this dude’s sigh of relief lets all others know, he’s a happy camper. The louder the prouder is this boys motto and he’s probly touched cloth more times than my incontinental father.  For most part when at the game, he does at very least have the decency ta squeeze in betwixed a few fellas sporting the visiting team jerseys. No tellin if’n this fella will wash his hands or not, but he may well need ta wipe his azz before he leaves.

Look out kiddies, cause here he comes. He’s the Shwauncy Shwinger!! He’s loud, he’s proud, and everybody knows he’s there. Generally he’s a large lad thinks he’s hung like a moose, and he’s full ‘a juice. He’s not a show-off by intent or design, just a boorish lout by nature. As a tot, he probly twisted all the arms off ‘a his sister’s Barbie dolls just cause he could. He smells like a locker room, is a puck hog, and thinks that somehow the word team is spelled with an capital “I”. In his defence, there is indeed an “M” and an “E” in team, so he’s got it covered whichever way ya looks at it. This is the guy who’s undoing his fly as he passes through the public pizzer door announcing “Stand Aside Lads … Tanker Load, Comin Through!!”, and is shwingin his manly manhood in hand halfway to the urinal. Heaven forbid you should be in front ‘a this Neanderthal should there be a line-up on account he’d be just as likely ta pizz in yer pocket. The shwauncy shwinger don’t shake it when he’s done, he just gives it a crack agin the side ‘a the urinal to the tune of a resounding THUD!!! His idea of washing hands is pizzin on his fingers, and wiping ‘em on some unsuspecting germ phobic’s shirttails. Just cause he can!! The shwauncy shwinger has season tickets, never misses a game, and still misses the old trough he so loved at the Gardens. Ah yes … The good ole days.

This dear folk, brings us to the Sandy Clause float of the Public Pizzer Parade. The one ya all bin waitin on the side ‘a the road for. … You guessed it!! The Drunken Shwauncy Shwinger. This guy is all over the board, he’s rude, crude, drunk as the proverbial skunk, and could be anyone from the extreme shy guy, big or small, right the way through to the Shwauncy Shwinger with a blood alcohol level higher than his shoe size. This drunken lout is an entire truck-load ‘a unpredictability, and should be kept an eye on at all times. He’s got four blurry eyed doors ta choose from, so gals … don’t be surprised if’n ya catches ‘im in the woMen’s facilities. He’s no doubt got his zipper lizard in hand afore even getting to the door, and after busting through the door giving his self a big ole goose egg on his forehead, there’s no tellin what this fool might do with his tool. He may indeed make it to the urinal where he’s just as likely ta be hangin on to his own shirttail while pizzin his pants, could be pizzin in someone’s pocket, or admiring his self in a mirror thinkin … “Hey!!! What a great idea puttin a mirror right there above the pizzer!!”  He’s the coolest bloke on the block, and believes everybody loves ‘im. He’s talkin up a storm, doin his very best ta outdo the trumpeter (generally resulting in a pant-load), and is even bin known ta mistake the urinal fer a shyter. This drunken dolt never washes his hands, and a night out to the Leafs game is never complete lest he wakes up the next mornin in soiled trousers with a black eye and a bloody fat lip. “Wow!! Must ‘a bin a great night last night.” Unlike the extreme shy guy who’s a problem to no-one but his own self, this Drunken Shwauncy Shwinger is everybody’s problem.

There’s only one rule at da’Bunker …

Rule (1) – If’n ya has ta pee, pee on a tree. If’n ya has ta poo, take it with you.

Bin a splash kiddies. Now, if’n ya’ll will escuse me, I’ve ta go fer a pizz.

 

                         dog_dakota_his_duty_fire_hydrant_hg_clr

Catch me later

Ciao Fer Now …

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11 responses to “~ Public Pizzer Parade ~

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  1. didnt know you could write so much about a netty visit lol i dont know why you have open places why not just have a loo anyway you dont all sit together for big jobs lol although that would be a funny scene i think men have it a lot easier when caught short a tree a stone hardly any adjusting us females well thats another matter i cannot believe im talking toilet or another word that sounds like sh ugger lol funny read xxjen

    • I do believe the reason for the crappers bein separate from the urinals is so’s the toilet seats don’t get showered upon on a regular basis. Besides, what would the shwauncy shwinger smack his jack agin if’n there weren’t that big porcelain pizzer right there within easy reach??
      We do definitely have it easier than women folk when it comes to relieving ourselves, no question ‘a that.

  2. Elaine Says Through E-mail:

    I loved your latest post in da Bunker – did not know you could write so much about the subject – I have traumatized folks all over North America – exposing way more than anyone should when facilities were lacking and have been told to expect the same in South America as the great outdoors is often preferable to the facilities on our tour!! Brilliant writing – commentary! very entertaining!

  3. Shy guys can be great friends, lovers and eventual mates. They just lack that overabundance of confidence some guys have. Take a chance, appraise your next near encounter and, if he seems to a shy guy, go for it.

  4. Hilarioius. I think I’ve met them all from Shy Guy to Schwancy Schwinger. You are an artist Archie. Love it!!

    • Oops I spelled the Shwinger guys name wrong. Too hasty to push the enter button, I’s supposin’…..

    • Careful Ingrid, lest you’ll have the spelling Nazi climbing all up and down ya azz 😉
      What, ya never met the “Drunken” shwauncy shwinger?? Lucky You!!
      Thanks Hon … x

      • Oh, I’ve seen a few of the drunken Shwauncy Shwingers in my life, as well as the rest. Its funny, I was telling my elderly lady here about your story, and I said to her “did you know there’s at least 4 types of men that use the public restroom?”, and I told her in words she could relate to. WELL! She laughed so hard. It was great. Love when the love goes round! Keep up the GREAT writing.

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