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Wednesday, June 15, 2011


"Kids, Do Not Fuck That Shit.  That Shit is GROSS!!!"  - Bob Saget 

the poo gods must HATE me this week.

we (the shit gods and i, i mean) got off on bad footing on saturday, when i had a hideously horribly embarrassing experience AT A WEDDING GIG, the TMI awfulness of which is to such an extent that even I am not gonna go there unless copiously begged and even then i'm emailing people the story, at my discretion, if i can even trust them never ever ever ever to repeat it, and YES IT WAS THAT BAD.

tonight, while having the least amount of "gastric distress" since this weekend, i was feelin' pretty good about my damn self.  i was eating some of my contraband froyo, that i got to take home from my gig, when i was like, "okay, cool, goin to the bathroom now."  i went, and brought my book, cuz i roll like that.  i do.  me = shameless.

we all shit.   

don't know about y'all, but i think poo humor can be lifted to a high art.  (if y'all don't go read that short story, and it is REALLY short, then i will DISOWN you as Minions.  READ IT.  it's hysterical.  take the time.
i might be immature, but i love humor of pretty much all stripes.  hell, i spent copious amounts of my time at a previous law office job (where they were presumably paying me to be "respectable"), reading this website.  shit?  it's funny.  funnier than hell. (i'm twelve, and i LIKE it!!!)

so, back to my night.  i had the first non-shitty (heheheh) merde i'd had all week, and went to flush. 

of course it didn't flush. 

our toilet does that all the time.  it doesn't really get stopped up, so much as sometimes we just need to flush it twice to get the bowl to empty completely. 

annoying?  certainly, but no big deal.  our house is OOOLLLDDDD.  so is the toilet.

nuh-uh, not this night.  couldn't have happened that easily, NOOOO. 
i waited around, flushed the second time. 
the water rose ominously.

well, that happens sometimes too, here.  it usually goes down quickly, no worries, right?

but no.  oh, no.  nononononononoooo! 

water kept rising.  i started panicking.  then it hit the top of the toilet seat.  i didn't wait around.  i did what every single idiot has done in the history of ever, and beat it into the kitchen, screaming "MATT MATT MATT MATT!!!  EMERGENCY!  EMERGENCY INVOLVING THE TOILLLLEEEETTTTT!!!!" 

i know, i'm classy.

Matt comes screaming through the house from the living room, skidding around the corner and miraculously not tripping over anything.  possibly because he's thinking i'm dying, or flushing myself, or whatever else that could go horribly wrong with me in a room alone (read:  a LOT).

of course, the second i left the bathroom, the rat fink bastard motherfucking toilet finally flushed.  finally. 
but not before spewing dirty poo water ALL THE FUCK OVER my entire fucking tile bathroom floor.  i can only be grateful it was tile, and not, say, wood.  or carpet. 

Matt and i just sat there, staring at it for a second (and it's very hard to get two of us in our bathroom period, much less with the poo water puddle on the floor).  we didn't even know what the hell to do.  (this actually hasn't happened to me before, believe it or not, in spite of my incredibly  bad luck with weird incidents.  guess it had to happen sometime.)

then, turning to look at each other with EEEEEWWWW faces squarely on, we looked in the direction of the bath towels. 

things i can be grateful for: 
  • no one tracked poo water through the kitchen with their shoes.
  • no one *coughMEcough* dripped shit water through the house as she carried incredibly filthy towels straight to the washer and turned that fucker straight on.
  • i did not get shit on my hands this evening.  

so, cinderella signing off tonight, with two things for you: 

a quote of mine, to Matt, as he laughed at me:  "no! do not kiss me for that! this isn't funny, this is a poo-filled catastrophe!!!"

and this:

proof that my bathroom is not a disgusting hellhole anymore.  (seeee how tiny that fucker is?!?!??!?)

 now, i am going to go eat some more fucking frozen yogurt and glare menacingly at my toilet every time i walk into the kitchen. 

yes, the bathroom is off the kitchen.  it's a shotgun house, and the floor plan looks like this:

UPDATE:  Matt just told me i missed a spot while cleaning. 

i missed the underside of the toilet seat.  it wasn't a "spot" so much as the entire fucking toilet bowl rim.  GAH.

his words?  "it was SCARRING."

oh yeah, that reminds me.  i need to go wash the towels, again.  twice.


tara said...

Oh I am so sorry, but so laughing. You poor thing. I hope your poo is behaving now. I'm dying to know your story and yet I sort of like not knowing so that I can make up something spectacular.

Sara said...

Andy gets so mad at me, because I refuse to even plunge the toilet. Every time I try to fix a clogged toilet, it begins FUCKING NASTYville in the bathroom. So rather than fix anything myself, I'm just like, "Um, Andy? That toilet is clogged. I have no clue how it happened, but I'm pretty sure it was you." Works every time.

critterblogs said...

Apparently there is some disorder where a person's poops are so huge you cannot ever hope to flush them and you have to break them up with a broomstick or something before flushing.

Lilscorpiosweetie said...

I feel your pain.. seriously.. my house isn't old enough to act like that yet it does.

I was gonna start this comment off with "OMG" but felt it might be sacrilegious and so refrained from doing it. But I had to tell you because it's insanely hilarious to me.

Better luck next time with the bathroom from hell.

chemgirljaime said...

oh dear lord the horror... I don't deal well in situations like that.. I probably would have ran to the bedroom and cried in a corner hugging myself while leaving the mess entirely to the bf to clean up.