Our upstairs toilet is sealed-off tighter than the USS Skipjack fighter sub. We’re going on Day Three, I believe, and can’t break through whatever is plugging it up. We’ve plunged and prodded, and even poured hot water into the bowl. But nothing can penetrate the turd wall.
One of our boys was the last to use it, of course. Whenever a toilet overflows in this house, it has their fingerprints all over it… so to speak. I don’t know what it is about teenagers, but they can apparently unleash eliminations like something out of the ham case at Wegmans. Good god! Have a glass of water every once in a while…
Anyway, I’m about ready to give up and call a plumber. The upstairs catcher has been out of commission since Friday, I think, and we’re not able to fix the problem.
We even went out and bought a ludicrous “eel,” equipped with a crank and shit auger. Yeah, and what a waste of money that turned out to be… We also purchased some idiotic-looking super-plunger. Ha! Might as well flush those twelve dollars down the… ah hell, I can’t even do that! Man, I’m starting to get whipped-up over here!!
I know some of you will advise me to remove the entire toilet, go out and buy a Watson 257-E something or other, perform the double-flowback procedure, etc. etc. And that ain’t gonna happen. I mean, seriously. I have trouble changing the ink cartridges in my printer.
No, I’m gonna have to call the man. We wanted to avoid it, because he charges $75.00 just to walk through the front door, then starts adding from there. And right now is not the time to be throwing money around. Sheesh. It never stops.
Hey, wonder if I could have an industrial paper shredder customized and attached below the seat of the toilet, so it would act almost like a wood-chipper and cut down on the trauma being loosed on our plumbing system every day? Is that feasible? Please let me know your thoughts.
And since we’re on the subject, kinda sorta, I know a guy who went to TGI Friday’s on Friday night, ordered boneless chicken wings, tossed the leftovers into the backseat of his car… and ate them while driving to work yesterday.
“They were warm from the sun,” he said. “I didn’t even have to heat them up!”
Heh. Predictably, he spent the rest of the night near or atop a toilet. It’s a wonder they didn’t have to LifeFlight his ass to the Warren G. Harding Food Poisoning Clinic. Crazy.
I know I’m probably jinxing myself, big time, but I’ve never had food poisoning. Even after eating roughly a million restaurant meals during my life… Apparently I’ve been lucky, because almost everybody I know has a horror story or two.
Toney, for instance, had shrimp at a restaurant in Valencia years ago (a place called Sisley), and was sick for a week. It was around the time Princess Diana died, and she still groans when she sees footage of the funeral.
And I know this one is kinda short, but that’s the way it goes sometimes. For a Question, predictably enough, please tell us your personal stories about food poisoning, as well as any stopped-up, overflowing toilet tales you might know. Use the comments link below.
And finally, to get all PBS ‘n’ shit with ya, I’m going to occasionally update you guys on the progress of Yurtathon 2010. I’m going to need to raise a certain amount of money (not all that much, actually), to go back to the yurt village and finish my book, sometime in September. And every shirt sale, and beer contribution, will go toward that goal.
And right now we’re at 10% of the target. So, please buy yourself a shirt or three, and help me get back to the ridiculous roundhouse in the woods.
Thanks for your continued support!
I’ll see you again tomorrow.