In college, I used to DJ at my fraternity’s parties. I would sit
in the corner with the sound system, a microphone and a stack of
cold beers. Since I didn’t trust anyone with my CD’s and the
fact that girls would dance on a platform directly over my head,
I found it increasingly difficult to leave the DJ booth. I
eventually became so attached to that spot that I didn’t even
leave to pee. I would just duck down and drain my main vein into
a plastic cup. Sometimes girls would come to the booth to make
requests, and I would poke my head up to talk to them while I
was doing the deed below.
After one particularly long leak, I managed to fill up three
cups with warm fluid. I set them on the windowsill and continued
to party. At the end of the night, after the crowd had
dispersed, I went onto the dance floor to retrieve my CD cases.
To my surprise and amusement, the three cups of piss were
nowhere to be found!
Later that week, I heard rumors that some freshmen were bitching
about the warm Coors Light at our party that weekend.