Alrighty then.
What really happened:
It was 7th grade (that's back 5 years if you were wondering), and I was an awkaward (more awkward) skinny white guy with a really perverted new friend at the lunch table. Now, I bring my lunch to school (and still talk to cheerleaders so get off my case!), and I bring wayy too much OJ (the beverage...believe me, any of the other OJ is too much) for a normal human to withstand everyday, but I digress slightly. As I am indulging in my crunk juice, this friend told a joke oozing with the stench of society's filth, but I laughed my head off.
As I laughed, I was attempting to take a drink simultaneously (yeah you guessed it...), and my laughter kinda won the battle for control of my hand temporarily. I spilled the orange juice onto my lap.
OF COURSE when he sees this, my friend begins to poke at me. This leads to the eventual name-calling of Dr Peepee, which almost wasn't as bad as having to explain to other immature 7th graders that I did not piss myself.
It was a good day.
Now then, this friend came up with this story should I ever be asked and didn't want to tell the true story (much shorter cuz he hates to do these believe it or not).
I received my degree in testicology at the local Chip N Dale after completing my internship as a fluffer (I'm not explaining that word lol).
The end.