I have a much better story to tell than this one. It's called "The Night of Quick Escalation in Kansas City" but for now I have been asked not to put that one in written form, but I gotta tell a frickin' story so here is one...
When I was in college I had this acquaintance. For argument's sake, we'll call him Jeremy. Jeremy was one of those kids who hadn't completely finished going through puberty when he got to college, so he was a gangly mess of arms and legs, kind of like a newborn deer. As time went on though, he eventually grew into his body a little and developed a little confidence and starting trying to mack on girls and stuff.
Anyway, one night I was out at the bar with friends, enjoying a few refreshments, and then a few more, and even a few more and pretty soon I really had to take a whiz. I was disappointed to notice that all the bathrooms were in use. This sucked. I thought about peeing outside, but didn't want to get arrested for public urination, so I pee-pee danced over to this little used bathroom in the other room of the bar. When I busted in, penis already out of my pants, there was Jeremy making out with a really unattractive girl. He was not pleased to see me.
Him: Jensen, go find another bathroom!
Me: No way, I'm whizzin' now. Go french that girl someplace else.
Him: Jensen, dude, why you gotta PH me man? Why you gotta PH me?
In this case "PH" stood for "Player Hate", which was one of those stupid phrases that stupid people used back in the stupid late 90's.
He was a lot more upset than I had anticipated, and unleashed a string of profanities at me, and some more references to PH'ing. I just shook my head and peed. All this hubbub over an ugly girl.
About 2 weeks later Jeremy had a party over at his house. His house was about 200 feet away from mine, and it was South Dakota, so really, what else was there to do, so I went to the party. I walked in rather inconspicuously with about 3 other guys, but I must have set off his PH radar because he yelled (from a different room)
"Hey, look who's here. You gonna PH me again tonight, you fucking PH'er!" I realize how absurd what he said sounded, but for some reason, that night it made me really angry. So I sat over by the keg and drank beer and silently fumed for a while. I also stared at some girl butts, because that's kind of my M.O.
After about 45 minutes of angry drinking, I had to go to the bathroom. I passed by Jeremy as I headed towards the bathroom and he was chatting up some dorks and talking about the relentless PH'ing he faced on a daily basis. When I got in the bathroom, I noticed a pile of his dirty clothes laying in a bin on the floor, so I did the most logical thing I could think of. I peed all over his clothes.
During a night of consistent beer drinking, I had to pee approximately every 18 minutes. (I knew this because I had timed it several times, and it was pretty much like clockwork.) I was at the party for about 3 more hours, so in total, I probably peed on his clothes 11 times. By the end the clothes were totally saturated and there was visible standing urine in there. It was kind of gross.
So, I guess he was right. I was PH'ing him, if PH'ing means "peeing" in his "hamper". Repeatedly. I'm not really proud of this, but I can't change the past, so be it. The next afternoon he walked over to our house and was lamenting about the fact that someone had urinated all over his dirty clothes.
I just shook my head. Stupid PH'ers.
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