Asshole of the Day - My 32 Year Old Bladder

Well, it's Buhster here, and Miss Misc and I decided it was about time we stopped just bitching to each other about the on-going miscellaneousness that continues to strike and start blogging again. 

And so I give you the first Asshole of the Day for 2012 (yes, 2012 is 3/4 of the way over):

My bladder.

I turned 32 this year, and apparently in its 32nd year of existence, my bladder has decided that it can hold about as much liquid as a thimble. Gone are the days when I could pass out in bed at 2:30 a.m. and sleep peacefully until noon after a long night of dodging old men in Cosby sweaters. Instead, I now find myself wide awake in the middle of the night debating whether I can hold it until morning. Why I bother with this debate is self-inflicted misc because my bladder's answer is always a resounding, "No, bitch, get up lest ye be the oldest bed-wetter in America." And that argument is one that I cannot win.

Damn you, aging. Damn you.