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Poop with purchase

24 Nov

Yesterday, while scrabbling over a small mountain of displaced concrete, hands stuffed into ski gloves, stuffed into pockets, walking toward the mini mart on a mission for gummi worms, a gruff man whose gaze I was trying to avoid stepped into my path.

“Hey, want a toilet?” he asked, pointing toward a cracked porcelain heap lying crumpled in a muddy, grassless yard.

The desire for gummi worms,
like The Force, is strong in this one.

“No thanks,” I replied, attempting to navigate around him.

“What about this kitchen sink?” he tried. “It’s high-quality.” He made a sweeping, Vanna White gesture in the direction of another pile of porcelain, complete with a rainbow of mineral stains: brown iron puddles, streaks of bright green copper, and what’s that poking up from the drain? A tuft of someone’s … hair?

“It’s free!” he beamed.

This overall-wearing salesman was clearly not to be dissuaded with a simple no.

“Maybe I’ll pick it up on my way back,” I lied, and maneuvered successfully around him.

I secured the gummy worms, stuffed half of them in my face, and carefully plotted a new route home that would take me far from Free Toilet Guy. On my way back, much to my dismay, what did I see but this:

What, if any, lesson is to be learned from this? The only thing I can think of is:

All ye who need toilets, kitchen sinks, and possibly on a good day, bathtubs, get thee to my neighborhood posthaste, as there is no dearth of crappers free for the taking.

Having puppy = having baby

22 Nov

A little Monday levity for all y’all with twisted senses of humor out there:

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=2042969&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=1&color=&fullscreen=1&autoplay=0&loop=0
Baby HD from summer of tears on Vimeo.

Can’t watch this ‘cuz you’re at work or you’re visually impaired or you just hate web video? It’s cool, here’s a synopsis for you:

White middle class couple sits on couch smugly discussing how their lives changed post-baby. They gloat about how they were more prepared than your average couple to have a baby, since they already had a dog. “Raising a baby is just like raising a dog!”

Cue scenes of baby eating food out of a dog bowl, mom yelling at baby not to poop on the floor and rubbing its nose in it, mom swatting baby off the furniture with a rolled-up newspaper, baby being packed off in a kennel carrier, dad making jokes about baby humping a guest’s leg: “He must smell your baby!”

OK, so the ending is kinda weird, and they totally could’ve moved their lighting setup out of the last shot, but the whole thing is worth it for the shot of the baby in a kennel. For some reason that probably signals deep psychological issues, I laughed like a crazy hyena.

To the crazy person in the ladies room

26 Jan

She lies in wait until I arrive at the office in the mornings. She lurks in the hallway, waiting for me to go to the office bathroom. She waits until I’m all settled in in the corner stall, then she bursts in, slamming her way into the stall RIGHT NEXT TO MINE. Then she remains there for as long as possible, rattling the sanitary napkin disposal box, collecting what must surely be reams of toilet paper, flushing, zipping, unzipping, rustling, throat-clearing, nose-blowing, and all manner of strange noise-making.

To you, strange morning bathroom lady, I have but one thing to say:
There are three stalls in the bathroom. Why do you always pick the one right next to me? I always pick one by the wall, that way, when you come in, you can easily place a comfortable distance of one stall between us. But no. You consciously choose to put your little feeties right where I can see them beneath the door. I for one am tired of seeing your orthopedic footwear so up close and personal every day. Please, for the love of all things scatological, choose Door No. 3!

For more on the perils of the ladies room, visit this clever lady’s bloggie.

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