So I was at my girlfriends apartment in San Francisco one afternoon and she had to leave the house to go to work or something. The problem with this was that her roommate absolutely despises my presence, and hates when I’m around without her. She once since my girl a text message reading: “What about ‘I don’t want Rod here when you’re not here’ do you not understand?” -- cold-blooded to say the least.

Anyways, I decided to stay and take a nap despite the fact that her roommate was home. My girl warned me to stay in the room with the door closed until I left and to not make much noise so that I wouldn’t get her in trouble. I agreed and fell asleep.

I woke up a few hours later and could hear her roommate rumbling the next room. Damn. I would have to put my headphones on and watch a movie on my computer so as to not make a peep. I laid there for quite some time and her roommate kept rumbling in her own room now, with the door open so that if I left the room I was in, I would be seen for sure. Damn.

After another hour or so of hiding in the bedroom, the urge to drain the main vein hit me like a ton of bricks. What was I to do? I couldn’t leave the room, not yet at least. I didn’t have many options. It’s not like I could piss out the window from the fourth floor of a San Francisco building onto a busy street. As time wore on, I tried to hold it, but it became unbearable.

I started to panic. This was gonna be all bad unless I found a solution soon. I have always believed that being able to hold it is mental, meaning you can hold it all day long, but as soon as you get near a toilet, it becomes impossible and you start jumping around like the counter finally hit zero. With that in mind you should always be able to remain composed as long as you keep the mental focus. My mental focus is very strong, but I feel like the fact that the bathroom was seven feet away eroded my mental ability to withstand the pressure. It seemed too close to hold out. I was torturing myself.

Finally, when my bladder countdown turned from minutes to seconds, I made a play. I ran over to what used to be a glass of water and was now empty, stood over it, unzipped, and did my deal. It felt great, truly great.

As soon as I was done, a full glass nearly to the brim, by the way, I said to myself: “Don’t forget to dispose of this glass before you leave.” Can’t just leave piss lying around these days, you know?

Later that day I was walking with my boy Prelle. We had just gotten some Jamba Juice in the marina and were headed to grab some real food somewhere in the area. My phone buzzed. It was a BBM from my girlfriend.

“Is that Urine in a glass on my desk?”

I froze. I yelled. I laughed. I worried, Prelle looked at me like I had gone crazy. He asked me what I was reacting to. I first set up the backstory, then I showed him the BBM.

“Wait, wait, wait. This is the greatest question ever. It has like three parts, each worse than the part before. Is that Urine? In a glass? On my desk?” He exclaimed.

He then spent the rest of the day repeating that same statement. As for my girl, she didn’t even get mad at me. In fact, she said that she at first thought it was apple juice and leaned in for a sniff, getting a little of Benson’s Own on her nose. Even I was grossed out by that. It just made her angry at her roommate, who was such a tyrant that I didn’t feel comfortable walking the seven feet to the real bathroom.

I guess I’ve learned my lesson. If I’m gonna piss in a glass, I need to leave a note saying that it isn’t Martinelli’s, it’s Rod’s.