Apparently I had just passed through the eye of the hurricane. The few moments of time in which all is calm until the storm reappears. This time the storm was not filled with overflowing toilets and doo-doo, but over-reactions, uncomfortable embarrassment, and hilarious innuendos that only I was getting, and no one else was there to laugh with. Here's the second half of that crappy evening.
After all was clean and settled, the house went back to normal. The kids yelling and playing in the back room, the adults awkwardly staring off in space/watching "you bet your life" on DVD, me stuck in the corner playing solitaire again, and Mary-Jane's mom in the kitchen area finishing up some dishes.
This is when everything started to unravel. Mary-Jane's mom began a thought aloud with, "how could this have happened? Travis, what do you think happened?" The volume of her voice was loud enough for all to hear, and the tone was one that gave me the impression that I must have looked to her like someone holding a plunger, pipe wrench, and having my pants sag low enough for my butt to be showing (I know that is all stereotype, but I couldn't resist). I calmly thought for second, and came up with the best answer to put this matter to rest (and I still claim to be correct), "I'm not quite sure, but I think just got a bit clogged and needed to be plunged, but the handle sticking is what caused the water to overflow, and I didn't get it turned off in time." I'm not sure what my mistake was, or if I even made one, but that answer was not good enough. Perhaps it wasn't even heard by the one who asked.
My verbal response opened a floodgate of loud, persistent questioning by Mary-Jane's mom to everyone and no one all at the same time. She questioned everyone in the room, as if they needed to be spoon fed the question, sometime asked it aloud to the ceiling, but no matter the answer, she was not satisfied. This went on and on, sometimes with the mention of "poor Travis" and "Travis' clog" and other things. Finally, when I'm sure I was sweating through my first layer of clothes, she started in on how this had happened to Clyde (MJ's dad) the other day. I'm not sure to what extent the "same thing" happened, but there was at least a clog that needed to be plunged. She now went full on attack on Clyde, demanding answers, and finally frenzying her into the idea that some things needed to be checked outside near their lagoon, and demanded he go out to check. He was so lucky...he got to leave. I wished that I was Clyde right then (sigh).
The hysteria continued with constant pacing back from the bathroom to kitchen by MJ's mom, all the time barraging us with questions. When she started to worry about having to call the plumber, I stepped in and again calmly suggested that maybe the toilet should just be cleaned through, with some Draino, or maybe a plumber's snake. Finally, an idea that she took hold of! She was very adamant now about trying to get the toilet cleared.
(Side note here: The whole scenario now has been going on for about 45 min - 1 hour, and no one was allowed to use the bathroom any longer, so people were stumbling out into the dark to go number one...thankfully no number twos. There is another bathroom in the house, but MJ's mom was so afraid that all the piping was backing up from the lagoon, she didn't want to take any chances of another "waterfall catastrophe".)
Here's where things got very, very funny for me, but no one else picked up on it in the room. As MJ's mom was looking through the yellow pages at the kitchen counter, Clyde walked back in from outside and the first thing she says to him is,
"Clyde, don't you have a little snake?"
My ears perked up and I looked around, and I was apparently the only one whose mind went straight to the gutter, so I chuckled a bit under my breath and kept playing solitaire, but the fun continued. Clyde replied,
"no, I dont' think so."
She said, "Clyde, yes you do, I know you have a little snake."
"No, I don't Linda."
"Clyde, you mean to tell me you don't have a little snake, I was sure you had one! What about the time you used it two years ago."
"That was Jerry's snake, Linda, and it was a big one."
"Clyde, I know you have a little snake, just go out to the garage and find it!"
"I'm telling you I don't have a little snake!" But he trudged back out to the garage anyway and at this point I was very GLAD that I was not Clyde!
I hope this came across at least half as funny in writing as it was for me to listen to this dialogue. I was holding in laughs so much I was crying (and thankfully facing the other direction from MJ's parents) I was so glad he left, or I might have burst out laughing if they kept this going. Linda had decided by this time that she was going to call a plumber, but he was not going to be able to make it out until the next morning. He said as long as the water in the clean out was clear, we should be fine to flush the toilet (although MJ's mom hovered around the bathroom anytime someone used it to be sure everything went down fine). However, there was one last humorous moment. Clyde walked back in from the garage, head hung down and Linda approached him...
"Well," she said irritated and impatiently
"You were right, I found my snake, but it's broken"
!!!!!
That did it for me, I was trying so hard to hold back laughs that I had to go to another room where I could let out my laughs and tears. I could not believe that NO ONE ELSE in the entire house was picking up on this! I wished so much that M-J could have been there to witness this hilarious conversation!)
Things finally calmed down, and about 1 hour and a half after this whole thing started, MJ and her sister returned home, and everything was relatively back to normal, until upon being prompted by MJ's sister with the question, "How's everything going?", her mom jumped at the chance to recount the entire evening, along with more phrases such as "Travis' poop" and "stuff all over the floor" that of course made me feel like I needed a hole to crawl in, or an airplane to escape in. Either way, I walked over to Mary-Jane and uttered these few words...
"I've had a bad night."
I recounted the evening and the "snake story" to her before we went to sleep, and I received some sympathy and loads of laughs in return. In the morning, I could not have been more ready to leave, and we took off to see friends in Springfield, MO at about 8 in the morning. The plumber came, and found nothing backed up, only that the lagoon level was a bit high, probably due to an unsual amount of rain...yep, that's right, all the fuss was for nothing, and the rest of the time we spent with MJ's parents, there was ABSOLUTELY NO TROUBLE WITH THE TOILET! Shocking, huh?!?!?
Well, this wraps up this recount, hope you enjoyed reading it a lot more than I enjoyed living it!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Wrong Place at the Wrong Time
In yet another crazy holiday story, the aforementioned title held very true for me. It was the day after Christmas, and Mary-Jane's parents were having their holiday dinner that evening, along with a gift card exchange for all the adults. Dinner had already been eaten, and the house was full with her parents, myself, Mary-Jane, our two nephews, her uncle, her sister, her sister's shack-up, and his two kids...and oh yeah, Frosty too. Needless to say it was a full house, and Mary-Jane and her sister decided to run into town for a couple of hours. Normally I am very comfortable around MJ's parents, and even her nephews, but without her sister there, the man she's living with and his kids and Uncle Harry combined for one of the most uncomfortable stare out into space moments I've ever been a part of. The kids were playing and yelling, the TV was on, but no one had anything to say. I found it best to stay secluded from the occasional redneck comments and set up shop playing solitaire at the dining room table. Six other people in the room, and I opt for solitaire...yeah, it was that kind of crowd.
Anywho, after about four rounds of solitaire, nature called, so I moseyed on over to the bathroom, and upon lifting the lid, I was greeted with the remainder of someone else's business. The whole shabang, as if they didn't even flush. But, being the unsuspecting (and stupid) person I am, I figured "hey, I'll just flush it down, no big deal." Correction: Incredibly Big Deal!
I quickly realized that the twosie was going nowhere, but the water was filling the bowl at an alarming rate. I quickly got the "oh crap" feeling in my stomach and in my mind and did a couple of double take panic-stricken looks around the room for a bright idea. By this time the water was very close to the rim, and I noticed the handle was stuck on the toilet, and I reached and moved it back into position to stop the water flow...but it was too late...the horrid waterfalls de toilette had begun, and not only water was coming rushing down the sides and onto the floor, but a couple of renegade logs as well!
Thinking as fast as I could, I picked up the rugs on the floor and stealthily slipped out of the bathroom and as luck would have it, Mary-Jane's dad was right outside the door (this really was a good thing; he was seriously the ONLY person I wanted to see right then, because I knew he wouldn't make a big deal). I leaned over to him and said under my breath, 'I need a plunger in here.' No questions asked, he said okay, and went to find it. Unfortunately, he did not know where it was, so he had to asked Mary-Jane's mom, the one person I DID NOT want to know. I knew she wouldn't be upset, but I knew that now everyone else would know, and she would remind us all that it happened for quite some time after. And this wasn't even MY doing!
She now began to consistently ask, "What! A plunger, what do you need a plunger for, Clyde! What's happening in there?!?!" She said all this, not in an angry voice, but an over-dramatic, panic-stricken way (which of course brought me LOADS of comfort). Now that everyone was abreast of the situation at hand, the real culprit had their chance to come forth and admit their mistake, but NOOOOO, that did not happen, and since this was a family gathering, I was not going to be one to shout out, "It wasn't my poop! Someone else did it, someone else dropped a deuce and left it plugging up the toilet causing the mass hysteria that now ensues." Instead I just held my tongue, not admitting anything, but not denying it either. I knew at this point, it was just better to let everyone think it was my fault, because it would get the uncomfortable situation over with faster.
Anyway, back to the problem at hand...the waterfalls had ended, but there was now a small lake in the bathroom and MJ's dad came in and began plunging while I mopped/toweled/scooped up the water/debris from the whole ordeal. About five to ten minutes later, all was normal again, and we got everything sanitized and cleaned, and the toilet was clear. For now, the storm had ended, and everything was cleaned up, and the remaining household, even though aware, was content with the whole situation being over (even though SOMEONE in this pack of people was the real culprit of the unflushable twosie).
Well, of course the story doesn't end here, but I'll do a second post to follow it up.
Anywho, after about four rounds of solitaire, nature called, so I moseyed on over to the bathroom, and upon lifting the lid, I was greeted with the remainder of someone else's business. The whole shabang, as if they didn't even flush. But, being the unsuspecting (and stupid) person I am, I figured "hey, I'll just flush it down, no big deal." Correction: Incredibly Big Deal!
I quickly realized that the twosie was going nowhere, but the water was filling the bowl at an alarming rate. I quickly got the "oh crap" feeling in my stomach and in my mind and did a couple of double take panic-stricken looks around the room for a bright idea. By this time the water was very close to the rim, and I noticed the handle was stuck on the toilet, and I reached and moved it back into position to stop the water flow...but it was too late...the horrid waterfalls de toilette had begun, and not only water was coming rushing down the sides and onto the floor, but a couple of renegade logs as well!
Thinking as fast as I could, I picked up the rugs on the floor and stealthily slipped out of the bathroom and as luck would have it, Mary-Jane's dad was right outside the door (this really was a good thing; he was seriously the ONLY person I wanted to see right then, because I knew he wouldn't make a big deal). I leaned over to him and said under my breath, 'I need a plunger in here.' No questions asked, he said okay, and went to find it. Unfortunately, he did not know where it was, so he had to asked Mary-Jane's mom, the one person I DID NOT want to know. I knew she wouldn't be upset, but I knew that now everyone else would know, and she would remind us all that it happened for quite some time after. And this wasn't even MY doing!
She now began to consistently ask, "What! A plunger, what do you need a plunger for, Clyde! What's happening in there?!?!" She said all this, not in an angry voice, but an over-dramatic, panic-stricken way (which of course brought me LOADS of comfort). Now that everyone was abreast of the situation at hand, the real culprit had their chance to come forth and admit their mistake, but NOOOOO, that did not happen, and since this was a family gathering, I was not going to be one to shout out, "It wasn't my poop! Someone else did it, someone else dropped a deuce and left it plugging up the toilet causing the mass hysteria that now ensues." Instead I just held my tongue, not admitting anything, but not denying it either. I knew at this point, it was just better to let everyone think it was my fault, because it would get the uncomfortable situation over with faster.
Anyway, back to the problem at hand...the waterfalls had ended, but there was now a small lake in the bathroom and MJ's dad came in and began plunging while I mopped/toweled/scooped up the water/debris from the whole ordeal. About five to ten minutes later, all was normal again, and we got everything sanitized and cleaned, and the toilet was clear. For now, the storm had ended, and everything was cleaned up, and the remaining household, even though aware, was content with the whole situation being over (even though SOMEONE in this pack of people was the real culprit of the unflushable twosie).
Well, of course the story doesn't end here, but I'll do a second post to follow it up.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Dog vs. Listerine
Well, M-J and I have recently returned from a crazy whirlwind "Tour of Missouri" as I have continuously dubbed our holiday travels. And there is no way we can spend that much time with our family and friends without a dozen or so oddball events occurring. This first one chronicles an evening at Mary-Jane's parents and a some miniature chaos brought on by our dog...
...On the way back from a walk with Frosty, I decided I could let him off the leash as we approached the fenced yard of Mary-Jane's parents. Without any trouble Frosty whooshed through the gate to check on his previously left bone in the front yard. I followed behind, and about the time I walked over to him, he was content with the bone's locale, and he trotted around to the back patio and porch to get into the house. When I made it around the corner I saw him sniffing in the bushes, most likely finding another item to "mark" as his in the yard. Peculiarly, he scratched at the bed of leaves beneath the bush, and picked up something in his mouth. Whatever it was, I know he wasn't supposed to have it, and I made my way over to investigate. Before I could get there, he spit it out, looked very perturbed, and ran past me to the door. As he passed I caught a whiff of what only could have been the worst smell next to death itself...I imagine if Death was to unload a "twosie" and light it ablaze, than this would be what it smelled like...and I only caught a whiff. Fighting the darkness of the evening with my LED headlamp, I noticed a moist leaf-shaped item on the ground where Frosty spat out his mouth voyager. I saw and determined it to be a practical joke put on by M-J's parent's cat, Miss Kitty (who is a boy) in which it pooped on a leaf and spread it around to make it appealing for the non-suspecting Frosty...but I can't believe the cat was that smart or cunning...point is, Frosty had poop (or worse) in his mouth.
I examined his mouth outside, and after not finding any physical evidence (other than the wretched smell described earlier) I of course did the logical thing and let him in the house to share the unique fragrance with Mary-Jane and her parents. In an instant the smell filled the room, and I exclaimed I didn't have any idea it would be that bad, that fast and M-J and I ushered Frosty into the bathroom and tub, thinking we could wash his mouth out (with what I did not know at the time, but we had to contain the smell).
Frosty happily jumped in the tub after we turned the frightening bathroom fan off, and stood there ready for whatever we were going to dish out. We figured we could at least wash his face to get any "outlying odor emitters" off his lips, and spray his mouth out with the detachable shower head. Well, the washing of the face with a rag went fine, but there was no way Frosty was going to let us storm his mouth castle. His lips were shut tight as could be, and nothing, no way, no how was getting in there (I imagine the vault at Fort Knox and Frosty must be related somehow).
After some pondering, my wife had the most splendid of "eureka!" moments. Frosty will lick anything off his face that he doesn't want there. After some debate on whether or not dogs could handle mouthwash, and then after near hurling after a waft of Frosty's breath hit us quickly ended the debate, Mary-Jane tracked down some citrus flavored listerine mouthwash, poured it in my hands, and I did the kind thing first and "offered" it to Frosty. He sniffed, and appeared uninterested, so my kindness turned to haste, and I splashed and rubbed that orangey-minty miracle juice all over his snout. Frosty did just as we planned, and his tongue scoured every inch of his muzzle, sopping up the astringing liquid. After a few unplanned sneezes, and some follow up water to drink, he emerged with fresh breath! The power of listerine not only covered up, but neutralized the nasty cat poop inferno breath.
After beating the death breath, I was inspired to wash Frosty with some waterless shampoo and spray doggie cologne on him to complete the fresh-smelling ensemble. Mary-Jane and I were so pleased at the results, we feel led to write a letter to Listerine to let them know of this story...not exactly sure how it would go, but I definitely could see a new advertising slogan or tagline - "Not even cat poop can stand up against the germ-fighting, odor-quenching power of citrus listerine! (spoken in my cool announcer voice of course)
Hope you enjoyed this holiday anecdote. There are many more to share...
...On the way back from a walk with Frosty, I decided I could let him off the leash as we approached the fenced yard of Mary-Jane's parents. Without any trouble Frosty whooshed through the gate to check on his previously left bone in the front yard. I followed behind, and about the time I walked over to him, he was content with the bone's locale, and he trotted around to the back patio and porch to get into the house. When I made it around the corner I saw him sniffing in the bushes, most likely finding another item to "mark" as his in the yard. Peculiarly, he scratched at the bed of leaves beneath the bush, and picked up something in his mouth. Whatever it was, I know he wasn't supposed to have it, and I made my way over to investigate. Before I could get there, he spit it out, looked very perturbed, and ran past me to the door. As he passed I caught a whiff of what only could have been the worst smell next to death itself...I imagine if Death was to unload a "twosie" and light it ablaze, than this would be what it smelled like...and I only caught a whiff. Fighting the darkness of the evening with my LED headlamp, I noticed a moist leaf-shaped item on the ground where Frosty spat out his mouth voyager. I saw and determined it to be a practical joke put on by M-J's parent's cat, Miss Kitty (who is a boy) in which it pooped on a leaf and spread it around to make it appealing for the non-suspecting Frosty...but I can't believe the cat was that smart or cunning...point is, Frosty had poop (or worse) in his mouth.
I examined his mouth outside, and after not finding any physical evidence (other than the wretched smell described earlier) I of course did the logical thing and let him in the house to share the unique fragrance with Mary-Jane and her parents. In an instant the smell filled the room, and I exclaimed I didn't have any idea it would be that bad, that fast and M-J and I ushered Frosty into the bathroom and tub, thinking we could wash his mouth out (with what I did not know at the time, but we had to contain the smell).
Frosty happily jumped in the tub after we turned the frightening bathroom fan off, and stood there ready for whatever we were going to dish out. We figured we could at least wash his face to get any "outlying odor emitters" off his lips, and spray his mouth out with the detachable shower head. Well, the washing of the face with a rag went fine, but there was no way Frosty was going to let us storm his mouth castle. His lips were shut tight as could be, and nothing, no way, no how was getting in there (I imagine the vault at Fort Knox and Frosty must be related somehow).
After some pondering, my wife had the most splendid of "eureka!" moments. Frosty will lick anything off his face that he doesn't want there. After some debate on whether or not dogs could handle mouthwash, and then after near hurling after a waft of Frosty's breath hit us quickly ended the debate, Mary-Jane tracked down some citrus flavored listerine mouthwash, poured it in my hands, and I did the kind thing first and "offered" it to Frosty. He sniffed, and appeared uninterested, so my kindness turned to haste, and I splashed and rubbed that orangey-minty miracle juice all over his snout. Frosty did just as we planned, and his tongue scoured every inch of his muzzle, sopping up the astringing liquid. After a few unplanned sneezes, and some follow up water to drink, he emerged with fresh breath! The power of listerine not only covered up, but neutralized the nasty cat poop inferno breath.
After beating the death breath, I was inspired to wash Frosty with some waterless shampoo and spray doggie cologne on him to complete the fresh-smelling ensemble. Mary-Jane and I were so pleased at the results, we feel led to write a letter to Listerine to let them know of this story...not exactly sure how it would go, but I definitely could see a new advertising slogan or tagline - "Not even cat poop can stand up against the germ-fighting, odor-quenching power of citrus listerine! (spoken in my cool announcer voice of course)
Hope you enjoyed this holiday anecdote. There are many more to share...
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