April 6, 2009
Would you keep all your urine in sealed glass jars, Howard Hughes style, for a year?
Who’s to say I don’t already? Maybe I’m one of those
eccentric millionairesses batshit crazy indigent shut-ins who just loves spending rainy Sundays counting my many, many mason jars full of sweet, sweet honey-colored urine – my very own urine! Maybe, you only think my fridge is full of jars of beer and sweet tea but, really, those are actually jars of my urine. Maybe, I’m really proud of everything I’ve ever made — not just the stuff I built with my own two hands* — and I like to look around me and also see all the wonderful things I’ve created with my bladder. And my kidneys and my urethra. And my ureters, too. Maybe I like to look at each of those jars of pee and think, I made that, and remember a simpler time — a time when I peed into a jar.
But maybe not. Because, actually, I think that shit (or urine — get it?) is pretty gross. So, no, I have not been collecting my pee, but that’s only because I’m not the kind of person who would collect pee for free. I am, however, the kind of person who would collect pee for money. For one million dollars, I would be more than happy to only pee into glass jars and then seal those jars tight and then use them to build a wall of liquid amber in my apartment. For a million dollars? Easy, peesy.
* Just kidding. I’ve never built anything with my hands.