Prior to my years as an undergrad, I had never known sleep-peeing was even a thing. But I had attended a party school, and here, it was a fairly common occurrence. For example:
- There was my friend’s little brother who, in his drunken slumber, stood up on his knees, whipped it out and whizzed on the top bunk of her bunk bed while she slept underneath.
- Then there was my friend’s roommate, who unconsciously got up in the middle of the night, opened the cover of her scrapbook, sat on it, and pissed all over her high school memories.
- My least favorite was the neighbor who crashed in my bed one night when I was out and left a yellow puddle the size of two, count ‘em, two Kardashian asses.
But my favorite is a story involving my old roommate Annie. Annie was a dear friend who I lost touch with years ago. I really miss Annie. We always had a roaring good time together and she made me laugh so hard I would – almost – pee my pants.
If Annie knew I was telling this story she would hunt me down, suffocate me in my sleep and make it look like autoerotic asphyxiation. But it’s too good not to tell. I’m sorry, Annie. I changed your name. 🙂
At the time, Annie and I were juniors and she was dating a much older man of 27. Tony was an officer in the Navy and rented a house on the beach with two other guys. A house, not an apartment. In our eyes, these men were the pinnacle of sophistication.
One night in the spring, Tony and his roommates threw a party. It was the most glamorous gathering Annie and I had ever attended. Meaning they served cocktails in glasses of actual glass.
We had classed it up by donning our brand new frocks from Charlotte Russe and layered on three different shades of eye shadow so we would blend in with the highfalutin crowd.
And that’s about where the class ended.
Just a Little Drunkie
At this soiree, they served the “high-end” vodka (Absolut), and naturally, we took full advantage. We were accustomed to downing shots of Sauza Gold chased by Natty Light in a can, so having free-for-all access to the good stuff made us giddier than a tranny with an unlimited gift card to Sephora.
Now, when I get loaded, I dance on tables and make unfortunate choices in sexual partners. But Annie is what I call a sloppy drunk. She stumbles around like a baby penguin and inadvertently mows down all objects obstructing her path like a monster truck.
At this point in the evening, Annie had shattered two of the glass glasses, knocked over a torchiere lamp and was well on her way to face planting straight into the five-layer dip. (Yeah, there was food there, too. Toldja it was classy.)
Fortunately, Tony squired Annie to bed where she could sleep it off and avoid causing injury to the other guests. The party was winding down anyway and he would soon join her.
Once Upon a Mattress
Later than night, after everyone had passed out, Tony’s roommate Caleb had been fast asleep in his feather bed when he awoke to the distinct sound of “pssssssssssssssssssssss.”
He sat up to find a big white ass squatting over the foot of the bed, releasing a heavy stream of urine. The ass belonged to Annie, who, after the stream dwindled down to a trickle, pulled up her thong then crawled under the covers with Caleb and started snoring.
Not knowing what else to do, Caleb gallantly picked her up and carried her back to Tony’s room, then went back to sleep on the pee-doused feathers.
The next morning, Annie didn’t recall any of it. She walked into the living room, cracked open a Diet Coke and said, “Man! That was one fun party!”
Three miles away, I was snoozing in my own bed when I heard a distant shriek so loud and long I thought Mariah Carey caught Nick Cannon in the sack with Celine Dion.
Of course, it was Annie, responding to Tony’s recounting of the previous night’s waterworks spectacular. Annie was so mortifed, she bailed out of there on the double and never called Tony again.
If you are attending college, or dating someone who is, or live with someone dating someone who is, I strongly suggest you invest in one of those plastic mattress covers — stat. I promise you, it will be worth its weight in golden showers.
Got any stories about wayward wee? Do tell!
Categories: True Story