NEWS: True Stories by Rob Corddry: Urine Trouble

CULTURE: True Stories by Rob Corddry: Urine Trouble

I get real depressed every time I wet my pants. It's textbook. I stay in bed all day, cut off all my friends, eat nothing but ice cream, and write bad poetry. My wife dreads these spells.



Normally I'm a fully functioning human person: I go to work, I eat pasta, I read trade paperbacks. But the second a drop of urine touches my man-panties? I'm freefalling down the rabbit-hole. And I DON"T mean that literally! Read a book!



For those of you who don't know, I AM ON TELEVISION. This means that I am periodically called upon to elevate the minds of the masses via comedic and/or trageo-realistic scenarios. This requires that my mind stay fresh, my body conditioned and that my undies absorb nothing urine-like. Once, in college, I was doing Shakespeare (heard of him?) and my college buddies put yellow stains in all of my under-drawers with magic marker. This innocent prank landed me in health services with a Valium addiction to rival that of any Mid-western housewife. I almost manslaughtered the fuck out of those douches! Their names were Fitzy, Sully, Little Sully, Herdo, Beerchuggingmaster, John C. Reilly and Black Sully. I wonder what happened to those guys?



Presently I'm doing a show on Fox called The Winner. It comes out in January and it's guaranteed to trigger a massive cultural shift. The other night (I am NOT telling you which one, you'll blab it to everybody) I was preparing for a scene in which I had to walk down some fake stairs and perform a fake situation with a person. That's when my bladder told my brain-ball that I had to tinkle. I ran to my dressing room (you know, the one with the huge star on the door) and humiliated the toilet with a stream of gorgeous liquid body-filth. I shook my penis with a vigor required of those in my profession and forced the damn thing back into my khakis. Guess what happened then? The last drop ended up in my pants. It always does, doesn't it?



When the Fire Department finally broke through my dressing room door I was tucked up inside the oven I had built for just such occasions. It took the Jaws of Life just to get me out of the fetal position (Gross!). My costars had probably gone on without me or had postponed the show or were just waiting to see what would happen or played cards or gotten something to eat or read a newspaper or went over their lines or made phone calls or checked their email or took a power nap or did something else or just talked to each other. You know how actors can be!



With my pants now dry I somehow made it home to the loving arms of my wife. It was crowded in there because she was holding our selfish selfish selfish baby. I took a nap for a few weeks but somehow managed to keep up on "Lost" without using my Tivo. I hope someday, after they get off that crazy island, they'll have reunion shows where they perhaps sing songs or do comedy routines. Except for Michelle Rodriguez's character. If you die in the show you can't do the reunion specials! That's a hard and fast rule. Have you seen Heroes? That's a pretty good show.



Manic depression runs in my family and can be triggered by anything, specifically things that are reminiscent of traumatic events from your childhood. I've interviewed my parents and, to my horror, found out that they used to make me wear a diaper. And when I wet my diaper I would cry! Think about it! Paging Doctor Freud!



In conclusion, John C. Reilly went on to become a very successful actor.



Rob Corddry is an actor. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife and daughter.

Penises can be such high maintenance. Out of all the body parts, they get the most attention. They've got their cozy little homes. And they want to play with everybody, all the time! You think after all that, and you've taken the time to make sure they're all dry and comfortable, they'd treat their areas, their HOMES with respect. But no...

I wonder if those vaginas treat their homes any better.

The apex of Reilly's career is Never Been Kissed. Successful? Give us a break.

So the point of this was what exactly?

Self-promotion? That you still don't know how to pee? That you like 'Lost'? That you're mentally unstable?

PS - Watch "The Winner" on FOX this winter. Catch it quick because it'll probably only be around for a few weeks.

dude, wtf? magnolia, chicago, hard eight.....

Yeah, I think he's got to be kidding, because if you're talking success as far as money, then Days of Thunder, Perfect Storm, and Chicago all made a ton of cash, and if you're talking awards/accolades then his Oscar nomination for Chicago or being in three of that year's Best Picture contenders should count for something.

Acting in about 40 films in 20 years screams success to me.

Seriously. Not to mention Boogie Nights, Gangs of New York, and The Hours.

It happens to me all the fricken time. Doesn't it suck being a member of the big boy club?

WOOOOOOOOSHHHHH

Guess what that is the onomatopoeia of?

You're huge inflated sense of self-importance farting on your head?

omg u sure got me with what was OBVIOUSLY sarcasm, i have no idea how i possibly could have misconstrued it. wat a n00b i am!!!

d00d, A/S/L?

um, i dont get it.....

Yeah, neither do I. Uh, I mean whoooooooooooooooosh!

Um, the article was good but this shit is fucking hilarious

So...you grasped the sarcasm, yet responded in a defensive manner. Interesting.

At any rate I blame myself for my subpar sarcasm and the whole "internet" thing.

I do grasp JC's sweetness.

So sorry to offend all of you. (By fake insulting some guy who none of you personally know.) Especially you, Bastard, who felt personal insult was the "awesome" route to take!

F*cking babies. Always taking up space

luv me

I guess it wasn't the Tempest then it might have been appropriate.

If men were only so worried about that last bit of pee-----> they'd get a lot more blow jobs------>World Peace.

There might be a missing link in there somewhere. I haven't worked out all the details. The point is, shake, dab, repeat if necessary, fellas.

hahahhahaha FOR THE WIN!

That's why I jar 'em.

Use a blender, then mason jars. That way you just rip open a bag of nachos and go at 'er, right from the jar. It's convenient for those lazy Sundays where just wanna sit and snack.

I am sorry to hear this.

Best of luck with the new show and the overcoming of boomerang whiz.

P.S. Can you get me a job? Thanks. Your pal, Surly.

i don't know why i read that...the pic of the guy snorting all that blow looked cool though.