In Response to Madison's Toilet Entry---
I once stayed at a little old art deco joint, adjacent to the Kit Kat Club, in NY, It was nicely restored, though, with a beautifully muralled lobby. We were in town for a Bowie/Phillip Glass show aroun the corner at Carnegie Hall. (Tibet House Fundraiser) Now, understand that these are like, "vintage" crappers in this place. I mean they were miniscule. I am sharing the room, and another friend is over as well. Of course I had to dump...urgently. I go in and sit on this fuckin' tea cup (endearing trait for a little dog; for a toilet-BAD) sized bowl and done in a moment. I'm not one to read the whole 'Times' in order to crap, in fact, I don't get who would want to pick up a paper or mag in a restroom. Eww! So, having shat, I'm ready to flush away, when my relief gives way to horror. That thing was a "bowl winder", you know, it only rotates with each flush; never to find it's way home.
(Because this part is pivotal, I gave it its own paragraph.) Now I'm stuck in this tiny bathroom, with the tea cup toilet, and two people are waiting for me. Now I was in a jam, and certainly someone else was probably was waiting to go in after me or would soon enough. Knowing that I have good problem solving skills, I start to look around to summon a strategy to get out of this fecal debacle. I see nothing that could be of any possible help at all. Then, at a moment of brilliant clarity; I am struck with the perfect plan. You see this old type, had a tank that is common to residential porcelline, rarely in hotels. Stealthfully removing the lid, I reach for my sword of solution; the divinig rod of doo doo. It is the float that I begin to unscrew with the rod to the fill valve attached. Now. I know it looks all brown and nasty, but that is only iron deposits, and as clean as the water from the sink or shower. Once I had my impliment in hand, I proceede to cut the unco-operative turd into three smaller pieces, and finally wipe, rinse, and replace the part. Then I carefully replaced the lid, so as not to bang the porcellain gong, making that loud distinctive sound. Finally, with the last flush, I had "sunk the Bismark", to my relief. However, my shit story readers; I must have been perceived as a madman, because I could not contain my laughter. You see I realized how I had lived through the most improbable McGyver episode ever to not be made, because given the same set of circumstances, he'd have made a bazooka.
*If this story offends you, go yell at Madison, she was my inspiration for the piece.
I once stayed at a little old art deco joint, adjacent to the Kit Kat Club, in NY, It was nicely restored, though, with a beautifully muralled lobby. We were in town for a Bowie/Phillip Glass show aroun the corner at Carnegie Hall. (Tibet House Fundraiser) Now, understand that these are like, "vintage" crappers in this place. I mean they were miniscule. I am sharing the room, and another friend is over as well. Of course I had to dump...urgently. I go in and sit on this fuckin' tea cup (endearing trait for a little dog; for a toilet-BAD) sized bowl and done in a moment. I'm not one to read the whole 'Times' in order to crap, in fact, I don't get who would want to pick up a paper or mag in a restroom. Eww! So, having shat, I'm ready to flush away, when my relief gives way to horror. That thing was a "bowl winder", you know, it only rotates with each flush; never to find it's way home.
(Because this part is pivotal, I gave it its own paragraph.) Now I'm stuck in this tiny bathroom, with the tea cup toilet, and two people are waiting for me. Now I was in a jam, and certainly someone else was probably was waiting to go in after me or would soon enough. Knowing that I have good problem solving skills, I start to look around to summon a strategy to get out of this fecal debacle. I see nothing that could be of any possible help at all. Then, at a moment of brilliant clarity; I am struck with the perfect plan. You see this old type, had a tank that is common to residential porcelline, rarely in hotels. Stealthfully removing the lid, I reach for my sword of solution; the divinig rod of doo doo. It is the float that I begin to unscrew with the rod to the fill valve attached. Now. I know it looks all brown and nasty, but that is only iron deposits, and as clean as the water from the sink or shower. Once I had my impliment in hand, I proceede to cut the unco-operative turd into three smaller pieces, and finally wipe, rinse, and replace the part. Then I carefully replaced the lid, so as not to bang the porcellain gong, making that loud distinctive sound. Finally, with the last flush, I had "sunk the Bismark", to my relief. However, my shit story readers; I must have been perceived as a madman, because I could not contain my laughter. You see I realized how I had lived through the most improbable McGyver episode ever to not be made, because given the same set of circumstances, he'd have made a bazooka.
*If this story offends you, go yell at Madison, she was my inspiration for the piece.
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
trixel:
Hello mr. I hope your weekend went well. 
dropdeadred:
hahahaha Neo that is a riot. Once when I was in high school, I was at a small gathering of friends. I innocenty peed in my friends bathroom, flushed and the horror began. It quickly overflowed and flooded the bathroom. My friends made fun of me and called it "Lake Urineata". Ahhh what wonderful memories.
hahahaha Neo that is a riot. Once when I was in high school, I was at a small gathering of friends. I innocenty peed in my friends bathroom, flushed and the horror began. It quickly overflowed and flooded the bathroom. My friends made fun of me and called it "Lake Urineata". Ahhh what wonderful memories.