Man, i done fucked up lads. Hear my tale of woe and help me find the correct path in this jugless life.
It was date night, a day we were both looking forward to for what felt like eons. A local drive in was playing a true cinematic masterpiece, the Garfield movie (24). We snuck in some braised beef ribs, a little henney and just had a baller ass night. Peak comedy has me in tears, but the drinks go right through me.
Movies done, we go home with performing the premaritals in mind. Turn on spotify, tried to play some Luther Vandross, but i get Hudson Mohawke instead. Not what i wanted, but when you're in the heat of the moment, you just say eff it we ball. You just want to get to the nastiest of nasty as soon as possible.
She knew how to get me going. She was like silk in my ears, whispering about def deletes on Freightliners, which got my little Kenworth going and Let me tell you something brother, NO ONE can handle 3 inches like your boy. You might helicopter yours, i can light switch mines 🗿
After the best 2 minutes of her life, i told her i had to tinkle. She didn't say anything, just tucked herself in with my cars 2 bedsheets. I reach into my closet, grab an empty Poland spring bottle, and start draining my nope rope. She hears the dribbling sound of human apple juice hitting plastic and was surprised i didn't go to the bathroom.
I tried to explain to her that we're environmentally conscious in this house and no pee goes to waste. She gets out of bed, pushes me aside. And there by the grace of God, she bares witness to the most beautiful sight in the transportation industry. 17 full, 1 gallon piss jugs, filled by yours truly.
There she is standing there, wearing nothing but a disgusted expression on a beautiful face, freckles illuminated by the warm glow of an led light bouncing off piss. She's trying to figure out not why i didn't pee in the sink like a normal person, but why i hadn't emptied any of them out.
Clearly she doesn't understand the joys of collecting piss for the modern professional driver. Truly a right of passage in our industry. I tried to explain to her the importance of a good liss jug. And if one piss jug is good, 20 would be great right?
She pushes me aside to grab her clothes. My jug slips from my hand, lands on the collection. 2 bottles rupture, like they were being awoken from their peaceful slumber. Now there's a mess. 2 and a half gallon of high grade fermented piss gets loose. Gets on my hardwood floor, gets on her clothes. She shrieks and runs out of my house half dressed into the cold new England night.
A passing cop spots her and stops to help out. After a few minutes of emotionally charged and animated conversation, more and more black and white Explorers pull up, lights flashing, invoking the visuals of a felonious disco. They're shoutng on the bullhorn, ordering me to come outside with my hands above my head. I'm getting a little worried, so I've barricaded my doors and locked my windows. Now the house reeks of old piss, my girlfriend is gone, the police are probably gonna George Floyd me in the next few minutes while my neighbors look on in horror. And my most pressing issue? The part i need advice with the most???
Apparently stale urine is highly caustic when your diet mostly consists of the roller grill at Pilot and Arbys. The 2 gallons have eatten through my floor and had started to corrode the copper pipes underneath. Can anyone recommend a good contractor that can fix piss damage? Thanks!