Let's get this over with right off the bat--today, we're going to be talking about pissing our pants.
Technically, underpants. Technically, just women. And technically, I think we're talking less about full stream activity and more about the occasional tinkle.
My wife recently forwarded me the web site for a product that falls under the official Dave Barry "I Am Not Making This Up" category: underpants designed to handle peeing your pants a little.
Of course, you can't just tiptoe around such a sensitive subject; the web site is loaded with urine-based puns (sign up to be a VIPee!) and indirect yet obvious references to the unfortunate vagaries that are the stuff of women's inside piping, which as far as I'm concerned is a mystery wrapped in a riddle.
Here's the thing: I get it. There is a market for this sort of thing, and the internet in particular is a fantastic place to be able to produce these things if you want to be discreet about it--or have it plastered on every single ad space you have for all to see on your personal computer, as it did for me when I visited the web site and got to see those banners above for like three weeks afterwards. But the web site treats the issue with just the right balance of whimsical aww-shucks-ness, Serious Business, and attractive design to make you want to buy potty pants.
(More to the point, the pants are designed to help a specific condition, fistula, which sounds like a kinky vampire but is really an actual concern for women who have given birth. So, yeah, I'm making fun of it, but I get the point.)
My main gripe is that it's marketed for women. How about us guys? Sure, we don't have as much of...a biological issue as women do, but for those women readers who aren't aware...well, have you ever kinked a garden hose? And has said kinked garden hose ever really stopped all the water at once?
But there's also other reasons why we might get a little drip here and there:
1. We might be too lazy to get up to piss when watching six episodes of Better Call Saul and an unexpected cough arrives.
2. We might have just drank 40 ounces of Diet Dr Pepper and shortly thereafter get a surprising push on the gut by a small child or a large dog.
3. We might be watching Russel Wilson throw to Ricardo Lockette instead of pass to Lynch for WHO KNOWS WHAT REASON YOU SON OF A BITCH.
So good for you, Icon, for filling a market need and doing it with style, sprinkly though it may be.