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2003-01-07 9:50 a.m.

My friend Celeste has always seemed proud that she drank her urine each morning when living at a hippie commune in Australia. It made her feel good to know that there was one disgusting act she had committed which I had not yet done—it gave her certain gloating and bragging rights.

Ah, but she can gloat no longer! I drank my own urine at our party Friday night.

I was standing in the kitchen with Adam. He and I were measuring the duration of our farts and trying to see who could stay in the fart–filled chamber the longest before suffocating or suffering major sinus damage.

I had a very full bladder, and I had to pinch the head of my penis to keep my pee from exploding out each time I unclenched my sphincter to release the farts. This was becoming increasingly difficult. The pressure of the pee was becoming too much. I didn't want to leave the room to go pee, though. So, I grabbed a 20 oz. cup and proceeded to fill it up with hot, steamy urine—right there in the kitchen.

Adam laughed, but didn't seem terribly fazed by this. He has known me a good 20 years or more and is quite used to my shenanigans.

He seemed a bit more surprised when I grabbed a straw, unwrapped it, and dropped it into the cup. An impish smile spread across my face.

Without giving it too much thought, I took a sip. My heart sank a little as the warm liquid reached my tongue. You see, it didn't taste terrible. It wasn't disgusting. It didn't even taste bad. The honest truth is that it wasn't nearly as bad as I had hoped. Deep inside I was really hoping that it was going to be this vile, wretched flavor—so bad that I would want to try to sandpaper off my taste buds the second it reached my mouth. The fact that it was quite bearable made the experience anticlimactic.

My pee was hot, semi–salty, and bland. It tasted vaguely of urine, but only vaguely. I decided I would drink the whole cup. At first I casually sipped it through the straw, like it was a soda, only that instead of being cold and fizzy it was hot and salty and came from my penis.

I got impatient with the straw and decided that chugging it frat style was way classier. For an added touch of class, I accidentally spilled a bunch of the warm piss–drink all down the front of my white t–shirt. My friends were appalled. Everyone left the room, disgusted. Andie told me that she wouldn't kiss me for at least three weeks.

"Oh, what is that you spilled all over yourself Justin? Oh, is it just your own disgusting, frothy piss? Well, ok then. Just making sure."

Now, I have been told that hippies and Breatharians imbibe their urine all the time. But, they are messed up in the head and do it because they think it will improve their health, get them into their version of heaven, or earn them cult points. Someone needs to tell them that they are overlooking the best reasons to drink one's own urine.


1) It's warm enough to be comfortable, but not scalding and uncomfortable like coffee or hot tea.

2) Everyone nearby feels nauseated and has to leave the room.

3) It looks good in pictures.

4) Add it as a good final touch to any near–complete resumé.

5) You get to be known forever as "(INSERT YOUR NAME), you know, the one that drank their own urine at that one party."

I am not just content with my decision to drink my own urine. I am downright proud of it. I have wanted to do it for so long—it surprises me that I tool this long to get around to it. I will surely do it again, but next time I will wait until I have eaten asparagus and taken a huge handful of vitamins, that way I get to experience the filthy taste and smell explosion I have been truly longing for all these years.