Tuesday, March 04, 2008

KITTIES AND PISS SHEEN; We advise a sexy scientist

Veronica writes:

Yea, I like flipping off. And not only people, but inanimate objects as well. Like when I am at work, boiling samples down, sometimes they start to look like piss or motor oil. Then they get down to their proper volume, and they smell like piss and tar. I like flipping those friggers off.

And what about the clients that send them to us. What in the hell is this shit and where did it come from? They also get the finger. Oh, and try adding sulfuric acid to these oily, pissy samples. Sometimes they boil right over. Just what I wanted, sulfuric acid all over my lab coat, gloves, and work surface, not to mention another hour's worth of work to fix this mess. Another finger emerges.

Love and kisses,

Dear Veronica:

My assessment is that of all the difficulties you face in your everyday life as a Sexy Scientist, your most serious seem to be associated with the general hatred of "Piss"; which leads me to this bit of priceless advice: Don't live with men or cats. They both reek of it, and you will too if you keep their company long enough. I (Pamela) will comment on the "Men & Piss" situation, while Ruby will grace you with her booze-driven advice regarding Cat's urinary issues.

All right Veronica, you can quit yer bitchin, cause Ruby's here with a solution for all things related to Felines and Pee. Read it. Take my advice, or you'll be sorry.
Yes, cats. I know their shit stinks, but they usually confine those kitty colonics for their litter boxes and our flower-beds. The real problem with cats as I see it is that they piss on everything. A cat can piss in just about any position imaginable, which makes it one hell of a pissing master. (Imagine a feline on the spacestation...floating about in zero-gravity, pissing in all directions, sharpening it's stupid claws on the thin outer membrane of the space-stations walls.) NASA needs a memo on this pronto:

ATTN SPACE COMMAND: No Cats in Space. REPEAT MESSAGE: No Cats in Space.

Okay, let me illustrate my point about cats and their piss. You walk into a home where a cat resides, or rather "Rules", and what do you notice straight away? Not the pretty new Sofa, the imported Italian marble floor, or the shiny 90" Flat-Screen Telly hanging on the wall, no no no! You get hit full in the olfactory's by the oxygen-sucking whiff of Cat Piss! Cat piss that begins the fermentation process long before it exits the cat's bladder and blesses some random surface of the cat's choosing.

The smell of cat piss elicits strong emotions in some persons, like myself. Emotions like rage, directed at cats and cat people. That rage is quickly brought on when I arrive in a home resided in by cat people. The acrid odor of fermented Cat Piss that someone's precious kitty has lovingly deposited on their: plants, carpets, furniture, clothing, countertops, pianos, curtains, toasters, children, fellow pets, and on rare occasions, the sodding litter box the filthy animal is supposed to be using in the first g.d. place!!!

If you get a cat, people will eventually know that you have one of the evil little shits just by walking past your home on the sidewalk. A cat's personal perfume travels far to assault unfortunate noses. This is the sole mission of cat piss, to insult the nasal sensibilities of other beings.

Life is short. Don't get a cat. Cat's suck ass. If you're reading this and you love cats, I don't want to know you.

Oh yeah, and the good folks over at PETA who take umbrage with my cat-bashing: Go lick a litterbox.

Now take my imperial wisdom and be gone. Ruby is craving hard likker and the El Camino needs to have the dust blown out of her.

Love me in spite of yourself,

Ruby Blathergab

Pamela's P.O.V.:
Men think they have to stand up to pee. Or as they refer to it: "Take a leak", "Check the Water Tempurature/Depth", "Water the Horse", "Make the Snake Hiss", etc., etc. ad-naseum. There seems to be some link to the caveman-brain in this behavior; something that turns a switch on in their primitive little melons when they unzip their fly--for any reason. Seems to make them feel all manly and Caveman-ish. "Grockk hungry! Grockk kill Boar! Woman cook me Boar! Man piss on cave wall! Woman smell piss! Grockk piss everywhere! Grockk love hold piss snake draw saber tooth tiger on wall!"

What is the true allure of standing up, holding The Johnson, peeing all over hell, shakin' it and putting it away damp? (That whole stuffing the Twinkie back in the pants half wet thing really grosses me out.) What the hell is really going on in those tiny little man-brains while they're writing their names in the snow with their 'Wee Yellow Hi-Lighters?' What's floatin' around in those empty male heads while they're re-decorating our powder rooms with Piss Sheen?

Personally I think the man in my house daydreams about Fran Dresher and Camilla Parker-Bowles during his pee-splattering parties. I can't be sure, but I suspect it's true. Many of these questions have haunted me for years, then one day I set out to do something about it this shit.
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I bought 2 dozen tiny cameras and placed them in toilets--both public and private--and even put one in one of those construction site Johnny Stands. The footage was amazing, and if edited well could easily win me an award in the Documentary Category of the Cannes Film Festival.

On one splice of film I saw a hard-hat in a Johnny Stand peeing while at the same time scrawling something on the wall. I went to the Johnny Stand and this is what the half-wit wrote:
"MY DIXIE WRECKED! HA HA IF YOU READ THIS YOU ARE A GAY! HA HA YOU HOMO ASS LOVER!" Men in hard-hats; what a bunch of fucking baboons. I should know; I live with one.

Why the hell doesn't some forward-thinking woman invent a toilet that forces the ingrates to SIT THE FUCK DOWN for fucks sake! Picture it: Man walks into bathroom, lifts both lid and seat, unzips fly, pulls out his twanger, and then a womans voice says clearly and calmly:
"It puts the seat down, it sits upon the seat, and it urinates into the water." The man hesitates. He's never heard this before. He looks around wondering if he's being had by a prankster, and once again the female voice speaks, but a little more sternly;
"It puts the seat down, it sits upon the seat, and it urinates directly into the water." Without thinking he exclaims; "I will not!" at which time the toilet seat drops; smacking the knob-end of his tiny tool on it's way to the bowl. "OWWWWW! God Damnit! What the Hell!?" the man screams in agony. The toilet lady speaks again, in a much firmer tone;
"It SITS it's bottom ON the seat and it urinates DIRECTLY into the water!"

How many times do you think a fella could take having his knob-end fwapped by a toilet seat before he just sat his ass down and peed like a civilized human being? Not long I dare say, not long. At this point in my scenario, the man never has to be asked to sit down again.

~And there would be much rejoicing amongst all Woman-Kind the world over.~

I think it's an invention with great promise. Someone with an engineering brain cell send me a schematic on the thing and let's get a prototype mocked up for the Chinese so we can sell millions of them on info-mercials. We'll find a great name for it. Maybe:

"Silence of the Glans" or

"To Pee or Not to Pee"

That's all I have to offer you today Beaker-Babe. Hope that helped!

xo Pamela

P.N.N. (C) Copyright 2008