It’s a fair question considering I just realized I’m too lazy to get up to go to the bathroom. It’s not enough that I have a remote control sitting in my lap. It’s not enough that I have beers, bread and cigarettes are all within reach. It’s not enough that I’m reclining on the couch we found by the dumpster and rigged up with a new canned-pears-leg. No, I’m too lazy even to get up to go to the bathroom.

And now I’m faced with an even more vexing question, "Did I just urinate into that Corona bottle?" The answer is a resounding yes, as made evident by the bottle of Corona resting on the floor next to me. But the eternal optimist, I recognize that while the bottle isn’t full of beer, it’s still full. There’s also a bottle of Merlot, or perhaps it’s more accurate to say, "A Merlot bottle". It’s half full. Then again maybe that’s the pessimistic side of the coin. Less capacity for future bladder management.

I suppose it’s not a good thing that I’m impressed with my ingenuity.

I think I may be alienating three distinct and important groups of potential readers: my parents, my roommates and any woman I may have had a chance with up until three paragraphs ago. Sad really. This is just a guess, but the most tangible repercussions to this essay will come from my roommates. Especially if I don’t dispose of those bottles properly.

Excuse me while I extinguish my cigarette in the bowl of salsa. And please don’t misinterpret this latest action as more grotesque behavior. Granted, common courtesy dictates that I should walk outside onto the balcony to smoke so as not to offend my nonsmoking roommate. But by putting out the butt on a wet piece of spicy tomato, the cigarette releases a not unpleasant aroma that covers up most of the smoke.

Urinating into a bottle is easy. Urinating into a bottle without spilling is pretty easy too. Urinating into a bottle without spilling while sitting down is a skill I plan to tackle shortly. I tried to skip a grade once and urinate into a bottle without spilling while sitting down in a moving car. It didn’t go well. Actually now that I think about it, that was a can, not a bottle, so it doesn’t really have any bearing on the current situation. Apples and oranges.

Language is an odd thing. If someone says, "That’s like comparing oranges and apples," you knee him in the groin for getting it out of order. "Apples first, you moron! Take that elbow to the eye socket!" But be careful not to do permanent damage. It’s not like he said, "To be or not to be, that’s what I’m wondering."

Why does a fit of uncontrollable hacking make me think of smoking another cigarette? Speaking of which, there is no such thing as "smoking the last cigarette," especially if it’s the last cigarette ever. In other words, if someone pulls out another cig, pops it into their mouth and then makes the solemn vow that its the last one, they’re full of shit. Shit like tar and smoke and cancer. Shit.... what happens if I continue on this path and become too lazy to get up to defecate. I swear on this next cigarette that that will never happen.

And why the hell does that Corona bottle full of piss make me thirsty?