Was at a hipster bar many moons ago (King Tuts Wah-Wah Hut in the East Village). At the bar, talking to some actress/writer/artist chick, misjudged my fart, filled my shorts. Discretely sashayed into the men's room, did my best to wipe my shitty ass cheeks and left my undies inside the toilet tank. Was a hot summer's night and, later, flies were flying around my jeans as I walked home. It's a good life.