SCENARIO: Your girlfriend dumped you two months ago, the Victoria's Secret catalog just arrived in the mail, your next-door neighbor—Marisa Miller—is washing her car in a bikini again, and the Hooters Swimsuit Pageant has been running on a continuous TV loop for the last two days. It's. Just. Too. Much. Pressure! You look for some private time to choke the bishop, cuff the carrot, buff the banana (shall we go on?), flog the log, paint the pickle, tickle the toy (we totally just made that last one up). So you're going at it like a meth addict in the finals of a paddleball competition...And then the door swings open.
HOW IT GOES DOWN: The startled person offers up a bloodcurdling scream that simultaneously says: "What are you doing?!" and "Why are you doing it?!" You freak out, and before you know it Mr. Johnson is caught in a web of zippered fury. Now you're screaming. The dog starts howling, and someone has called the cops.
SMOOTH MOVE: Remain calm. Slow down, but do not stop. Look the person in the eye...or don't. Now simply explain that you're just following doctor's orders. You have a rare condition known as Chokeous le Chickenous. It's not fatal, but it must be treated with great urgency. Finish up, and leave. You have about 10 minutes before the person Googles "Chokeous Le Chickenous" and realizes you're full of crap.
(Editor's Note: This doesn't work for shit if an actual doctor catches you. In that instance, just slowly put it away.)
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