Friday, April 17, 2015

The Turd In The Toilet

We've been summoned by Curly...the blond giant haired former correctional officer.

Curly:  "Follow me" she says in  that stern former correctional officer voice that leaves us no option.

We dutifully get in line behind her as she heads to the bathroom...four ducks in a row led by Curly, who, I notice bounces when she walks.  The Princess, Di, and me.

The bathroom's first four stalls are vacant and Curly pushes the door on the big handicapped stall at the end of the room to make sure nobody's in there either.

Curly:  "How does this happen?" proffering her arm in the "Universal Be My Guest Gesture" directing our attention to the third stall.

Curly:  "How does this happen?  And why is there no paper?"

Immediately sensing the need for photographic evidence I rush back to the office and grab my phone. They're still pondering the poop when I get back a few seconds later.

The Princess:  "Maybe the paper got sucked down but the rest didn't."

Di just shakes her head.

We head back to our office talking poop.

The Princess:  "Maybe it was a clean poop that didn't need paper."

Me:  "But how would you know that unless you used paper?"

The Princess:  No words but with the "Oh Yeah" look on her face as she laughs.

Me:  "If there'd been paper, wouldn't there have been little floater pieces of paper that didn't go down?"

Curly:  "Why would you just leave it?"

The Princess:  "You always look to make sure everything goes down.  I mean if I ever pooped at work...which I don't."

The Princess and I are die hard prim and proper Sneak-a-Poopers who resort to pooping in the public bathroom under only the most dire of circumstances. Curly, on the other hand, doesn't care and will fart out loud and giggle about it in the bathroom...she'll even giggle when other people fart in the bathroom. Much to the shame of the Sneak-a-Pooper in the neighboring stall who is stuck hiding in a claustrophobic cubicle until Curly leaves the bathroom and she can be assured of her Sneak-a-Pooper anonymity.

Di, who is so nice and sweet, went back to her desk.  I don't know what shocked her more, the turd in the toilet or our hysterical reaction to it.  In fact she's soooo nice she probably doesn't ever poop in real life at home, let alone in a public restroom.

We spent the rest of the day off and on discussing the turd in the toilet.  Why? Because nobody would flush it. It sat in there for hours.  Everybody who went in the bathroom studiously avoided the stall.  I think everybody was afraid if they tried to do the right thing and flush it away, the toilet might overflow and then everyone would think they were the one who put it there in the first place. Which is what everyone WOULD think.  I know that's why I didn't flush it.

Being low paid government employees, we try to find humor in our mundane jobs.  Sometimes it's at the expense of others...sometimes it's at our own expense. And sometimes it's just the turd in the's the stoopidist thing.

Here's Wilson!!!


Is there anything cuter than a kitten?  Or a puppy?  Or pretty much any baby animal for that matter?  I don't think so.  Wilson, in all his cuteness, is the newest addition to our menagerie.

The Husband, who tries to tell people he hates all these stinking animals, is completely smitten.  He thinks it's cute when Wilson tries to drink out of a glass. The thing is this is really weird for him.  The Husband I mean, not Wilson. Water's water to Wilson.  Doesn't matter if it's in a glass on the counter or in his bowl on the floor.  It's for drinking.  No big deal to him.  The Husband though, is another matter.

We went to Maui once on a vacation years ago.  Two of The Husband's sisters lived there and one of them moved in with the other one so we could stay at her house and have the place to ourselves.  She left her dog there to keep us company.  A really sweet & big old lug of a dog.

So one night we're watching TV and eating bowls of ice cream and the dog is sitting there right in front of me staring at my bowl of ice cream.  Being the big sap for sad brown eyes that I am, I let the dog lick the last of my ice cream out of the bowl.  The following conversation ensued....

The Husband:  "Don't let him lick that bowl."

Me:  "What difference does it make?  It's gonna be washed with hot soapy water."

The Husband (In the most disgusted voice imaginable...):  "Well if it doesn't matter, why don't I just shit in the bowl?"  

Me:  Unable to respond due to onset of hysterical laughter.

The Husband:  "Well, what difference does it make?  You said it didn't matter."

Me:  Hysterical laughter ensues...

The Husband:  Beginning to catch the hysterical laughter bug..."Well you said it didn't matter."

So it's not like I don't have reason to be a little surprised that he wouldn't mind Wilson drinking out of a glass.  (We actually laughed about the bowl licking/shitting thing all night when it happened.)

We've become those old people who dote on their pets. I blame this on our children for failing to reproduce and give us grandchildren.

It's the stoopidist thing...

P.S. The Adventures Of be continued.