So, I'm at work right? It's a Fortune 100 company for chrissakes! You’d think they could fix their $200 toilet seat. Peter Dolan, our CEO, got two and an eighth million dollars for his fucking bonus last year and they can’t even keep the bathrooms safe?

So like I’m saying, I’m sitting there, and I’ve mostly finished up taking a shit. I’ve pulled off three or four wads of toilet paper and I do that little scoot where you shift your ass forward on the seat so you can get back there to wipe. As I do this butt-lunge, the toilet seat which isn’t really as firmly attached to the throne as it ought to be, slides sideways a little -- just enough to drop off those little plastic discs that keeps it a quarter inch off the porcelain. No problem, right? Wrong! See, my scrotum was apparently swinging with the scoot and a little wrinkly flap of the damn thing got pinched between the plastic seat and the porcelain stool. Damn that hurts. I mean, it’s not like my nut was cracked, it was just the skin there, but my vision went all red as I shot off the seat, just long enough to wrest my weight from the alarming new center of the universe.

There I am, sitting there again, mastering the pain so I don’t start whimpering like a girl in the stall, with my coworkers all around. It’s funny how important bathroom etiquette is. And I hear a drip. Holy shit! I’m bleeding. No wonder it hurts. Maybe I’m not the toughest guy in the world, but I’m no sissy either -- but damn it’s disconcerting to have you balls bleeding. That just ain’t right!

After a while I get it to stop bleeding with pressure and TP and get back to cleaning myself, this time with a very ginger scoot. But it looks like someone gutted a possum. Now what do I do? I could leave it for humorous effect, but I don’t. I do my best to clean it up. On the way back to my cave I start wondering about infection. I don’t use those big paper rings and I don’t worry much about dirt and infection, but I just ripped my scrotum open on the inside of a toilet. This can’t be a good thing!

If I’m dead in two weeks, you know what happened.