I’ll get right to it. I could barely pee on my own without shooting a stream like a wild hose was out of control on the bathroom floor.

The problem wasn’t me. The hall commode was a cathedral of tile and fixtures with a throne set almost too high for my tippytoes to help reach.

You see, I was an independent young lad. I could clamber out a bedroom window at three years of age and walk through the dark, out to the edge of Candler Avenue in San Jose, California, and sit on the curb with our dog Candy.

 I’d do that: curb sitting. Just pass the time. Just sit there with our overgrown sheltie dog, watching the clouds, watching people pass in the dark, or during the midday, or whenever.

You’d think that dog could have helped me take a proper piss in the toilet.

I had no problem whipping it out for a leak in the backyard like I was on some great adventure in the outback of my dreams.

Hell, I could drench the side of the house and shoot petals off flowers if I had to. Me and the dog—we pissed together on the apple tree. It was fun. I don’t know why she lifted her leg. But she did.

I gladly pissed in the wild. In fact, I could have been on “Survivor” at age three and won. 

Most challenges of my wayward youth were easy obstacles to defeat.

Getting out of the neighbor’s garage after sneaking in. Simple. That was just a waiting game. He left and turned off the lights. I think I just crawled into a really dark place. I popped out when there was light, terrifying everyone like I was a cat scampering from a tin can.

Once I tried to slither out of a canal as torrents pushed me down its muddy banks, determined to drown me. I escaped. I told my mother I fell into a puddle.

I solved the problem of urgency once by running toward home and pooping in my pants. I hid the evidence in my room. I don’t even think the dog ratted me out.

I found creative ways to turn Tinker Toys into bows and arrows and launched them at my brother’s skull. I could have hunted deer.

But that damned toilet.

The bathroom throne was my greatest challenge at about age three. I’m guessing here since my parents are no longer among the living. Three sounds good. It puts me at that challenging height for a youngster trying to sling his tiny dick into position for a squirt into the commode.

I was proud of myself when I reached such fathomable heights and wasn’t shooting the opposite rim, or firing away at the open door.

I remember pushing up the seat and lid. That was always a minor victory when my pants were around my ankles. Yes, that’s how I peed then. There was no sneaking it out through little portholes. The pants went straight to the ankles just like that one rejected American Idol song: “Pants on the ground, pants on the ground…”

And the dick went on the rim. Barely. That could have been a verse in that song. “Dick on the rim, Dick on the rim! Hat turned sideways, dick on the rim!”

The toilet seat fell in slow motion.

I could have moved. But it took so much energy to yank down my pants, get on my tippytoes, and then try not to shoot the dog that was watching.

I couldn’t react. Little kids can’t react. They just watch. I watched.

I watched the toilet seat smash my tiny wiener.

And then I howled in pain. I howled and did some sort of strange tribal dance, because, well, that’s what you do when your wiener gets crushed.

I howled because I had to pee and I was afraid.

I howled for my mommy. She came running in. She held me as I howled, “I want a Band-aid!”

And then she put one on.

I felt glorious.

I’m guessing it fell off somewhere outside.

TAGS: , , , , , , , , , , ,

NICK BELARDES is illustrator of NYT Best-Selling Novel by Jonathan Evison West of Here (2011), author of Random Obsessions (2009), Lords (2005), and the first literary Twitter novel: Small Places (2010). An author, poet, and screenwriter for Hectic Films, Belardes turned TV/online journalist overnight after blogging his way to success. His articles and essays have appeared on the homepage of CNN.com and other news sites across America. You can find Nick on Facebook and Twitter.

164 responses to “The Toilet Seat Smashed My Wiener”

  1. Zara Potts says:

    oooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwww!
    I’m a girl and this hurt me to read.
    God, Nick -you sounded like a hundred different kinds of trouble when you were a kid!

    • Not even a smash on the wiener could keep me reigned in, Zara. What’s the girl equivalent I wonder? Or maybe I shouldn’t wonder. I’m sure a story or two will come out here.

      • Zara Potts says:

        Well I’m not sure… but I do remember riding a boy’s bike when I was young and I came crashing down onto the bar.. That was some pain that I don’t wish to experience again!

        • Yowwwch! Boy or girl that hurts like the dickens. In an unrelated note, last night I was watching TV when the animal show I was watching talked about a rare NZ owl-parrot that couldn’t fly. You have some bizarre animals over there. And bats that act like mice and scurry on the ground!

        • Ouch, I’ve never crushed my weiner or had a bike incident like that, but I used to skateboard, and I once had the board hit my right in the nuts… There is nothing else in life quite like it – the most physically, mentally distressing event… I puked and puked and puked… Blah.

  2. Ahhhhhh….aahhhhh… I could see that big, giant, crushing toilet seat coming down hard & I felt a phantom twinge of pain for you.. Y-ow-uch!

  3. Seven Bates says:

    That made me smile – I got the zipper treatment about age 4.

  4. Christina says:

    Laugh out loud material! Hat turned sideways, dick on the rim is hilarious!

  5. Connie says:

    OUCH!! even a girl can have sympathy pain .

  6. Matt says:

    Oof. I am now going to be walking around cringing for the rest of the day.

    I never had the toilet lid encounter, but I’ve managed to zip myself a couple of times.

  7. KayK says:

    Haha! Not to your pain but the way you kept talking about swinging your little dagger around. A friend of mine fell once riding her brother’s bike, she had to go to the hospital, actually did some damage that had to repaired!

    • I remember going to Dagny’s coffeehouse once and the worker couldn’t stop talking about her boyfriend broke his dick while skateboarding. She looked just like Winona Ryder.

  8. Rebecca Erwin says:

    It reminds me of when Zachary was 4 and pretened he was putting out a fire in the bathroom. I stepped on little dots of pee in my bare feet. He cleaned walls for an hour and then Scott taught him how to use a carpet cleaner. Little boys and peeing crack me up!

  9. Gloria says:

    Ah, Nick. You give me hope!! My twins are Trouble – one of them went through an entire year of busting out of the house and being brought home by the cops at midnight on random Tuesdays. And he was four! We’ve had him tested for Autism Spectrum and everything else, but it sounds like he might just be a genius! (Which, to be honest, is the “problem” both of the boys face.) Who knows – maybe he’s a writer?

    Sorry to hear about your wiener.

    “Dick on the rim…” will be playing in my head for the rest of the day. Thanks for that. 🙂

    • Wonder if he has Asperger’s like one of my boys. I was never tested. Kids are great, and adventurous, and make us worry.

      “Turn my hat sideways….dick on the rim!”

      • Gloria says:

        Final reports indicate that Tolkien has ADHD/OCD – which, to exist in the same little body, creates worlds of trouble. Indigo, however, was not diagnosed with anything specific just a generalized “mood disorder,” which is just another way of saying, “Yeah, there’s something going on but we’re not smart enough to figure it out.” Tolkien (the one that used to run away) has had an IEP in place since Kindergarten and is doing fabulously in second grade. Indigo is in trouble all the time – he was just suspended last week. I’m sticking with smart. Smart I understand. Beautiful, sweet, lovely, funny little boys who threaten to throw chairs at their teachers because of “generalized mood disorders” – I don’t get that at all. I know, though, that they will grow into strong, solid men. Like yourself. I have to keep this faith.

        • Yes, do keep the faith and keep being a great parent. I used to hate some of those IEP meetings. I could have strangled some of the dim-witted admin who just didn’t get it. My boys are pretty cool dudes. They didn’t turn out half bad. I mean, I turned out half bad, but they didn’t.

  10. Angela Tung says:

    ow! ah, the hazards of being a boy. . .

  11. Sammie KnJoi says:

    Once again, Nick Belardes my ass is gone…Laughed off in a fit you-induced hilarity. And eventhough it is disturbing for a former Preschool teacher to think of a 3yr old as having a “dick”, only you could convey young dickdom with such full size humor. Like the lovely Ms. Potts, I too succumbed to the bike bar at the tender age of nine. I crashed onto its steelness and in cry of agony, I shouted out to my friend, some neighborhood boys, and a responsible adult, “My leg, my leg!!” Fortunately, I did have a leg cut or two to cover the fact that it was my throbbing pelvic bone and its protector, my labia (the right one) that would later turn purplish-black and swell to three times its size over the next week…so there we have it. My “lip on the bar” trumps your “dick on the rim”…

  12. Landen Belardes says:

    Thus why he has to stand sideways while peeing now at age 41 due to his crooked aim…

  13. Haha, how could something so painful be so funny?

  14. Maura says:

    Awwwwwwwwwww Reading all of these makes me realize what a joy it is to be a girl! If I was your mother, I would have cried just seeing you in that situation ,My poor baby Nicky’s dicky ! I had ony one “female”experience and never again ! I was really careful riding the boy’s bikes after that !

  15. Ducky Wilson says:

    Hysterical! Thanks for letting me laugh at your expense.

  16. Oh, man… I can see that slow-mo action of the toilet seat coming down…

  17. If it makes you feel better, I once fell in the toilet (around age 3)–or my tiny bottom fell in the toilet–and I couldn’t get out. A friend’s older brother had to rescue me.

    I never quite got over that.

    Toilet stories are perennial classics.

  18. Slade Ham says:

    Ouch. Just, ouch. And ouch again.

  19. chingpea says:

    this had me laughing! i wonder how many other lil’ boys out there had the same encounter. might explain the whole “why men can’t lift the toilet seat when they pee then put it back down…” thing. hahaha…

  20. D.R. Haney says:

    I never experienced The Lid, thank God, but I’ve had mishaps with zippers, as I suspect we all have. No. Fun. At. All.

    I’ve also had soiling mishaps in emergency situations, one not so long ago. Something about the way the boxers were arranged. Large dark spots on my trousers. I wasn’t close to home and had to meet people. I tried to solve the problem by taking off my jacket and tying it around my waist, turning the jacket around so that the bulkier part hopefully hid the stains. It probably didn’t work.

  21. Tod says:

    I laughed my ass off! Mostly because I immediately believed I was Nick accomplishing great urinating feats at the age of 3. Hilarious!

    The only thing Nick forgot to mention was growing up enough to realize you could write your name in snow or dirt…cursive is easier!

    Thanks for the laugh!

  22. Toilet seats are the anti-christ. Yet somehow they make for hilarious stories.

    I feel guilty for laughing, but I can’t help myself.

    • I laughed for several weeks with the title in mind before I ever wrote it. Every time I brought the title up to a friend, we would laugh for an hour it seemed. It’s all about that title and the event, which used to embarrass me a lot, but now just makes me laugh.

  23. First off, I’m so glad you were only three when this happened. I was genuinely worried about you when I read the title. (I mean, that’s an important body part, is it not?)

    The Band-aid was my favorite part. Everything can be fixed with a Band-aid. (I imagine you probably ran off like nothing had ever happened after that, back into the neighbor’s garage or to the curb again with your dog, Candy.) My girls were the same way about kisses. I think we could have kissed a gash the size of an uneaten biter biscuit and they would have run off happily to play, oblivious to squirting everywhere. (Okay, I *may* be exaggerating a bit about the blood.)

    Reading this made me appreciate having girls. It also made me feel sorry for your three year-old self.

    (Let me know if you need a theme song. I came up with one just in case. “My wiener has a first name, it’s O U C H – ouch!”) 😉

    • Oh! hahaha! Now I have another song in my head!

      I know what you mean about kids and wounds. I used to say “Slap it off!” and my boys would slap their skinned knees instead of crying.

      And yes, Band-aids do fix everything. They can heal the world if we just put them everywhere with a few smooches.

  24. Jessica Blau says:

    “Dick on the Rim,” is the best new song I’ve heard in a loooong time! Very funny.

    You know I’d never heard of seat-to-dick damage until my ex-husband was visiting with his three-year-old last spring. The little guy had the exact same mishap on my toilet. It was awful to see him cry like that, but I have to admit, it was pretty dang funny.

    • I just bonded with that kid. And for every one like him is 100 guys who won’t admit the childhood carnage they endured. I admit the hilarity. As long as nothing was flattened too much.

  25. Crap. I ruined that one. Was supposed to say “oblivious to *blood* squirting everywhere”. *sigh*

  26. Phat B says:

    Christ. Childhood penis trauma. Nobody wins. My brother and I used to have distance contests when we were kids, seeing how far out you could hit the bowl with the stream of piss. The secret was a nice 45 degree arc. It thrilled my mother to no end.

    • I hope you didn’t accidentally lose your stream and soak your brother. But that happens. It’s all part of childhood wee warfare. You’re right. In the wiener trauma center no one wins.

      • Phat B says:

        We only soaked each other playing “Swords” which is where we each peed from a different side of the toilet trying to cross the streams and soak the other brother. This is all normal right? Why do I hear Lenore clicking a pen?

        • That would just be like Lenore to psychoanalyze us and then top our story with one of her own crazy story that far outdoes ours is better written as well! Darn that Lenore!!

          For some reason your story reminded me of a lady who once told me she was at the zoo and a rhino started peeing on her and some others. Talk about aim.

        • Phat B says:

          I think 90% of a zoo animals thoughts relate to seeking revenge on their human captors.

        • My thoughts would. I would pee on everyone. Especially if I were a hedgehog.

  27. Oh and I did the same thing as Zara when I was a kid – I was riding a boy’s bike and crashed into a fence. Flew right off the seat and onto the bar. Talk about impact.

  28. jonathan evison says:

    . . . i wondered why your schlong was so flat when i gave you that reach-around last summer . . .

  29. I cannot even begin to explain the bruising. And it was my grandpa’s bike, so I was so far off the ground the only thing I could do was hold on for dear life… (which I now know was so, so stupid).

    • Might have saved you from broken wrists. Although I hope you didn’t end up like the one lady with the swollen purple labia who had a similar incident as noted in the comments. YOWWWCH! But sounds like you did. Not sure if Band-aids could even help…

      I personally can’t remember any bruising.

      Little boy wieners are like gummy worms I’m guessing.

  30. Dan Fugate says:

    So you were the kid waddling like a penguin to the urinal in elementary school? Sigh. Everyone knew at least one penguin.

    Fortunately, I never experienced the toilet seat in that way. My brain only let me catch myself in the zipper once.

  31. Oh
    My
    God!
    Owwwwwwwwwwwww!
    I was laughing the entire time I was reading this… waiting…waiting… for the toilet seat to come crashing down. I knew it was coming but I just couldn’t stop reading!

    I too had a biking accident similar to the ones Zara and Sammie described… I ended up on the sofa with a strategically placed bag of ice. All this time, I thought I was the only girl to ever get racked!

    • Your comment was funnier than the story! hahahahaha.

      And what’s up with this comment thread? Must be a bunch of crazy bike riders in this group.

      Ice. It’s our salvation at times. But not to get confused with icy hot. That’s an entirely different post…

  32. That should be the title to your next short story, Nick. I’m laughing so hard over here right now. “Little boy wieners are like gummy worms.” HA HA HA HA!!!!!

  33. Irene Zion says:

    Oh, poor Nicky wiener!
    It probably frightened you away from porcelain fixtures for months!
    Poor Nicky wiener!

    • Irene, I can’t stop laughing.

      BTW, I still keep reading your card to me in the mirror. How the heckadoodle did you learn to write like that? It’s badass. I would write an entire book that way if I were you. Someone would publish it I swear!! Call it “The Backwards Story,” and have everything in it happen in reverse!

      My wiener says thanks.

  34. Caryscia says:

    Well it seems that weiner smashing toilet seats are an epidemic among male youths. I’m certainthis has happened to my male relatives atleast once. I remember it happening to my brother when he was learning to use the potty. It was after that incident that he more firmly insisted that he be let to pee in the backyard as he pleased. I just hope this no longer happens to you or any male taller than the average three year old.

    • I agree! I just hope there aren’t any giant toilets around. The urinals are pretty high at Maya Cinemas in Bakersfield for some odd reason. But luckily no lids are involved. 😀

  35. Brent says:

    Is there anything a band aid can’t fix?

  36. HLindskold says:

    Oh, Nick. OUCH. I realized after reading this that I had been holding on to my crotch like I was the one who had the squooshed wiener. Holy kamoly. (Oh… and LOVE that you incorporated “pants on the ground” into this. WIN!)

  37. gina says:

    Ouch! Very discriptive. Sounds like you were as mischievious as my little one. Hmmm since I’m starting to potty train him do you have any pointers to keep him accident free or should I just invest in some cute bandaids for his winky?

  38. Robin says:

    You, my friend, are the strangest, most interesting man I know.

    I’m a bit impressed that you remember that from such a young age. But then again — how could you not remember such a horrible thing, right?

    When you had this posted on Facebook and Twitter, I kept wondering how it was possible for you to do such a thing. I hadn’t thought about how young boys might have that problem. I’d have to consider myself lucky that I hadn’t thought about something like that, because I’d be a bit worried about myself if I was thinking about such things.

    Great story, Nick. I really ought to take writing lessons from you.

  39. jmblaine says:

    Dont let Nick fool you
    this is an existential metaphor
    ripe with red herring

  40. Matt says:

    3 years old? Were you an ancient Peruvian re-incarnated in the body of a small Mexican child? I’m blank until 6 years.

    Your poor lil’ chorizo!

  41. Jude says:

    Thanks for my ‘laugh aloud’ moment today..! Great story.

  42. Richard Cox says:

    Yeah, the title makes it. Ha.

  43. Joseph says:

    Wow, I laughed my ass off too. What a great read! It brings back painful memories from about the same age…umm happened more than once. OUCH!
    Yeah i’m going to retweet this, i hope more people read and comment. 🙂

  44. More than once? Oh man. I can’t bear the wiener trauma. I hope you had a steady supply of Band-aids. Thanks for the RTs.

  45. matildakay says:

    I don’t know what’s funnier the little boy wiener getting smashed by the toilet seat or all the peeing antics of a little boy and his dog! I never knew little boys were so obsessed with whipping out their little dicks and peeing on anything and everything in sight.

    There might be a correlation between little boys fascination with aiming their little dicks and peeing and grown men’s fascination/obsession with well their dicks. lol. And chingpea might be onto something. Perhaps the toilet seat smashing incidents of little boys wieners does have something to do with why men can’t put the toilet seat down!

    But what amazes me about this story is how adventurous a little boy you were. Curb sitting should be a requirement for all kids… ah to be young again in a time before internet and video games when kids actually went outside, played, explored and used their imaginations!

    I have to ask, did you scare the neighbors to death when you came scampering out of the darkness in their garage?

    Well done… thanks for the laughs.

    • Yes, I did scare the neighbors. That was quite the incident. I don’t remember my parents freaking out too much. Those weren’t times when parents worried about abductions. They sort of knew I would turn up somewhere. I always did. I was like this little Don Quixote, always in search of something greater than myself. I never strayed past the corner of my street and the VERY busy street of, I think oddly enough it was called STORY ROAD. Kind of fitting for an author, don’t you think?

      It did almost get me killed in that creek. But it also makes me who I am today as someone who likes to explore.

      Me and that old dog. We sure went places.

  46. Katerina Witt says:

    I am legitimately disturbed by the prospect of weiner banging…at least on commodes. Muy bien hecho, Senor Belardes.

  47. So…about the shit you hid in your room that your dog didn’t rat you out on. What became of it? I ask because at the late age of seven, faced with a similar predicament, I hurled the incriminating drawers from a fourth-story window onto the Viennese sidewalk. The folks were none the wiser ’til I fessed up sometime in my late teens…Thanks for jarring those memories loose!

    • I’m guessing my mom found all the evidence and disposed of accordingly. I never got in trouble though, which was odd.

      I like your story better: hurling onto a Viennese sidewalk. Sounds sort of romantic… hahaha.

      Glad I could jar loose those memories!

    • Your art is amazing, Dmitry. Truly. I’m going to look at it a lot more in depth in the morning.

  48. Thanks…We were in Vienna for only ten days, waiting to immigrate to the U.S., so I’m glad to’ve left my mark so to speak…

  49. Simone says:

    Nick, this was really amusing, and cringeworthy. Being a girl I can only imagine how painful that must have been.

    “I want a Band-aid!” … Classic!

    I couldn’t help but think of my 4 year old nephew. My sister has a flower bed near her front door. On one of my visits whilst on the way out, my nephew decided that he needed a pee. His pants went down to his ankles and he watered each little flower, pengiun-walking from one to the other. Needless to say, those flowers are blooming like there’s no tomorrow! He’s also a fearless little critter and blames everything on his dog, Shiloh.

  50. Pissing trauma, few things are worse, except perhaps, Haitian earthquakes. Such things shape us, who knows how history may have been changed by falling toilet lids.

  51. Actually, Nick, I found that Band-Aid while you were playing outside. And one of these days, when the time is right, I’m gonna sell it on eBay and make bank. Kaching!

  52. Quenby Moone says:

    Omigod. I remember watching with curious terror those first couple of years of my son next to the pot. He was also a mighty savage in the wild, marking his territory with glee–the potty was always just a little risky, and now I know why! You’ve cracked the case wide open, and I’m glad he didn’t meet a similar fate.

    I, for my part, remember my ass dropping in the bowl. That’s no picnic either, though not perhaps as soul scarring.

  53. I never had the toilet seat smash my ding-a-ling but I do have a short urinary story. I wasn’t three either. I was 15.

    I was at my girlfriend’s house. I had to piss like a Russian racehorse. I was also experiencing my first case of blue balls that day. They were extremely tender and ached with a dull pain.

    Gingerly, I got up from the bed taking care not to squish my nuts as I moved forward.

    The toilet was directly in front of me. My kidneys felt like they were going to burst. My girlfriend had a basket full of Cosmopolitan and Seventeen magazines to the left of the toilet. To the right was the shower curtain. As soon as the urine hit the air, one stream shot to the left and the other to the right. Absolutely zero ounces of pee went in the toilet.

    It was unbelievable.

    I had never experienced urinating with blue balls before until that moment and had no idea what the backed up sperm did to your pipes. It was like a horrible traffic backup and my urine was taking the detour, the scenic route.

    I drenched my girlfriend’s Cosmo and Seventeen magazines to the point of no return but tried to salvage them nonetheless by dapping them with toilet paper. It was useless. Katie Holmes had just experienced her first golden shower and her face was crinkled as a result.

    I wasn’t really worried about the shower curtain. It was used to getting wet.

    The end.

    • Oh man, Jeffrey, now that was hilarious!! That could have been my next post: “Double Stream Paranoia.” Cause once it happens you always wonder when the double stream will strike again…

  54. Joyce Kane says:

    What a wonderful visual storyteller you are! Thanks for sharing that! I laughed several times, and I loved the ending where the Band-Aid solved your pain and allowed you to go off hunting and playing again in your back yard “like I was on some great adventure in the outback of my dreams.” What poetry! Your piece was so visually and emotionally detailed, I felt for a short time like I was a little boy, too. But thank HEAVENS I’m not–OUCH!
    I loved the way you incorporated the rap song by “General” Larry Platt (a civil rights activist–he marched w/ MLK–can you believe it?:) and also the way you respond to all these posts. I’m a screenwriting instructor living in Lake Isabella and a member of WOK (the California Writers Club branch Writers of Kern), are you a member as well? I wonder what brought you from San Jose to Bakersfield?
    The exchange between you and Jonathan about your flat dick and being able to scoop dirt at General Sherman tree was absolutely hysterical. LOL indeed!
    🙂

    • Joyce: Thanks so much! I sure am glad to have gotten you in touch with boyhood, even for a fleeting comical, squishy moment.

      Platt, in my meager opinion is one of the most honest TV-made moments to have come out of the dishonest practice of reality TV. There are certainly more silly gems like him out there.

      I don’t belong to the Writers of Kern, though I have spoken to them once, and keep meaning to attend. I started the Random Writers Workshop in Bakersfield. We meet on Wednesday nights at Russo’s Books. We have been averaging around 15 folks per workshop. Here’s some info, including a link to our Facebook fan page: http://www.bakotopia.com/home/ViewPost/121264

      This week, one of the authors/screenwriters from The Nervous Breakdown is coming up to speak as we discuss setting in film, nonfiction and novels.

      Jonathan Evison is a hoot. He won the Washington State Book Award last year. We went up to the giant sequoias in a madcap adventure, but didn’t pee on any of them, unfortunately.

  55. Erika Rae says:

    Oh, Nick. OW! What came to mind reading this (other than the fact that this was the last story I expected to read from you today) was the toilet seat story Megan D told – about how she got two black eyes from being bashed not once but TWICE while puking her guts out by her toilet seat. The two of you…man.

    Now, did your toilet seat at least have those little stopper knob thingies which keep it from smashing flat? If yes, those things may have saved your little (circa 3-years-old, of course – no offense to the current state of things) wiener’s life. Just think! That COULD have been, like, a wiener GUILLOTINE.

    And now I’m thinking of a horrible (yet hilarious) movie called “Teeth”.

    Kryke, Nick. Just…kryke.

    • I don’t remember stoppers. But I do remember my little gummy bear getting splatted.

      Weenie guillotines are the worst. I imagine most dungeons have those by the handful. Anyone who is a weenie executioner is just too horrible for words and probably has a secret Ken doll collection.

    • Anon says:

      At no point in my life did I think I’d hear someone else reference that movie. I briefly considered using it to dissuade my daughter’s eventual suitors. I mean, sure, she’s only four now but I’m a planner. Nicely done.

      Nick, my fourteen-month-old son is in the process of potty training and I will now inwardly cringe every time he approaches that sadistic porcelin mohel.

  56. TammyAllen says:

    Wow, I’m a mom and I would’ve cried for you.

    I walked into a wall last night.
    totally sober.
    turned around when someone called me and bam. I planted my face into the wall.
    I didn’t put a band-aid on it.

  57. Ryan L. says:

    Haha that was funny man! i’m sorry i didn’t see your tweet saying for me to comment on this page. I think this is good stuff you should make a book about funny stuff like this I would buy it! Of course all men like us have had a childhood experience similar to this. I’ve had some trouble with the zipper once before too hurts like crazy thats for sure! I couldn’t stop laughing when I read this it just seems to connect with us guys having childhood experiences like this.

  58. Joanne aka soulsprite says:

    Oh my….

    I hope your reaction time improved after that incident.

  59. laughing, but cringing in solidarity for your 3 year-old self. i’ve done the bike thing, but i think the worst was watching a second grade classmate fall on a jungle gym, one leg on each side. she wasn’t back in school for awhile … that must have been some kind of hurt.

    • Ooof. That’s all I can say. Ooof for that jungle gym incident. :/

      WHY HAVE ALL GIRLS DONE THE BIKE THING???

      OK, I’m calm. Just wondering.

      • Ooof. Yes.

        Bike thing? Hypothesis: Might have to do with young girls borrowing boys’ bikes that are too big for them (’cause it’s cool and all) and, being accustomed to having a nice space in which to rest when stopping, are not as careful as boys in avoiding the evil bar.

        In my case, I am entirely lacking in grace. It is preordained that stuff like that will happen.

  60. Autumn says:

    Ouch! Total sympathy pain.

    I remember camping with my best friend when I was about 7.
    BF was a boy.
    We both snuck out to pee in the middle of the night.
    We heard a noise that scared us, and we both zipped up to flee….Poor kid.

  61. […] Another time, his…how shall we put this elegantly?…his wiener was smashed by a toilet seat. […]

  62. Lorna says:

    Let’s see I have a childhood female equivalent injury story…..only I wasn’t peeing at the time. I was sliding down the banister of the stairs, slipped off and me and my pubic bone bounced off the corner edge of our old antique Singer sewing machine. Those things were built solid. My brothers laughed, at first, then realized when I could not walk for ten minutes that I was in severe pain. I, however, did not require a band aide.

    I’m not sure why, but I now have the Oscar Mayer Wiener song running through my head.

    • Carl D'Agostino says:

      Eat 12 hot dogs at one sitting. It will go away. Then pray the hamburger “Have it your way!” does not replace it. ooops. Sorry.

  63. Carl D'Agostino says:

    Freud would suggest that your aiming dysfunction may have something to do with an identity problem in that the subconscious was telling you to sit down as is customary with the girl species. In most cases Freud’s sexual related diagnosis would be dismissed by current psychiatrists. However, there are indications that this is true, Mr. Belardes, because female dogs don’t lift their legs to pee as you indicated in paragraph six. Modern psychiatric thought would postulate that your reluctance to just sit down was a refusal to compromise your manhood or that this behavior indicated a refusal to adapt as in the cliche “doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.” I do commensurate. I am 60 and still have the aim problems from time to time. At least I have learned to reduce the frequency of the dysfunction by peeing only on Mondays and Fridays and don’t drink beer anymore. May I suggest this as a remedy. Hey, it works for me.

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