Urinal Cakes.
Seriously.
Not the captured "in a little plastic cage" ones, but the free range ones. The ones that just lie there in the bottom of the urinal. "Why?" you ask? Well, I'll tell you.
You get to piss on them. Like some Thai hooker, you get to pee on them, but you don't have to shell out 500 baht for the pleasure. And you can watch them corrode. Watch the layers being stripped away until finally some little fault line begins to appear. Then you go for it.
"This is it. This the time. I can piss on this thing until it is sundered into two lesser halves! I can destroy matter WITH MY URINE!"
Dude, we all think it. Well, those of us in the "I Pee Standing Up Without making a Serious Mess of Myself" club.
And eventually you wear it down to this little nub of nothing that drifts lazily down the drain. And then... It all begins again. Well, whenever some urinal cake fairy appears and replenishes them...
Or, there is the ever popular "Dude, I have to get rid of all this nasty bar ice... What to do?? A-HA!! Those guys sucked, but they were cool in the 80's! Ah-Ha!! I can throw the ice in the urinal trough thing in the men's room!"
And then we get to piss little caves into it. Watch the steam rise as if my cock was, Pew! Pew!, shooting out some layzor beam to burn holes through the earth's crust. Or the ice, either way.
But, Please. remember You can love your urinal cake... But...
Don't make out with it...
