After a second two hour wade through building permit bureaucracy, following immediately on the heals of our tax preparation appointment, it was determined that we need to have the septic system inspected (Verified) which of course opens fate to a wide range of possibilites. Fortunately, I KNOW that it is a concrete tank (no falling though rotten tanks tops here!) But more plans need to be drawn, permits applied for, and appointments made. And, considering the tank hasn't been pumped in maybe 25 years, a pump out. (This also means I will call in professionals, and not be tempted to do it myself.)
In hindsight, to make this a truly wonderful day I should have had a dentist appt, but that's not until the 30th.
Showing posts with label Poop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poop. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Friday, January 19, 2007
Poop stories
One of my new favorite blogs made the point that basically poop stories are popular. Then at another new favorite site, "Norman" had a pretty good body fluid story. Both of which reminded me of a Fire department poop story.
Background- Most departments work a 24 hour shift, changing at about 8am. The oncoming shift, after coffee and conversations spends an hour or two cleaning the station. So you're cleaning someone else's mess. There is pressure to NOT leave too much of a mess, The alternative, always threatened, is to get up extra early and clean the station before you leave.
At some point, the waking shifts began finding the primary toilet unflushed every morning. Nobody seems to have said anything, but certainly there must have been suspects. (Since it wasn't being talked about, nobody realized it was happening on ALL three shifts. One morning, a shift awoke to find a runny pool of excrement IN FRONT of the toilet, with shitty footprints leading to a shower stall. So NOW they're ALL talking about it. WHO DID IT! And nobody was going to clean it up, because that would be confessing! 8am is approaching, the oncoming shift hears about it, "well somebody damn sure better clean it up, we're not going to do it!"
Finally, Ed, one of the best, most consciencious guys I ever worked with, who also had cooked a very spicy meal the evening before, cleaned it up using the bath towels provided by a towel service. The "used" towels were put in the hamper by the back door for pick up.
The story has two lines at this point.
First part, the oncoming shift had a "Good Ol' Boy" captain who liked to work on his car after hours. Typically, when called for dinner, he would walk in the back door, grab a used towel to wipe his face and then his hands so he didn't soil the bathroom sink too badly with grease etc.
Need I say more? I would would have been off on stress disability. As it was, I almost had to go home because my sides hurt so much from laughing.
Second Part, Now that we're all talking, it becomes apparent that "The Mad Shitter" is not from within. Suspicious looking feces have been found outside on nights when the front door was locked. (It was a simpler time) The captain, now highly motivated to capture the fiend, sets a trap. He goes to Radio Shack, and get a motion detector and rigs the alarm to a light by his bed. The front door is left unlocked, at about 5am, the motion detector is tripped. Forces are gathered, a little time passes. The assembled firefighters rush into the bathroom and find the paperboy, with his pants down, taking a dump. It seems the lad had issues. He was hauled away by the PD. We had a new paperdelivery person after that.
Background- Most departments work a 24 hour shift, changing at about 8am. The oncoming shift, after coffee and conversations spends an hour or two cleaning the station. So you're cleaning someone else's mess. There is pressure to NOT leave too much of a mess, The alternative, always threatened, is to get up extra early and clean the station before you leave.
At some point, the waking shifts began finding the primary toilet unflushed every morning. Nobody seems to have said anything, but certainly there must have been suspects. (Since it wasn't being talked about, nobody realized it was happening on ALL three shifts. One morning, a shift awoke to find a runny pool of excrement IN FRONT of the toilet, with shitty footprints leading to a shower stall. So NOW they're ALL talking about it. WHO DID IT! And nobody was going to clean it up, because that would be confessing! 8am is approaching, the oncoming shift hears about it, "well somebody damn sure better clean it up, we're not going to do it!"
Finally, Ed, one of the best, most consciencious guys I ever worked with, who also had cooked a very spicy meal the evening before, cleaned it up using the bath towels provided by a towel service. The "used" towels were put in the hamper by the back door for pick up.
The story has two lines at this point.
First part, the oncoming shift had a "Good Ol' Boy" captain who liked to work on his car after hours. Typically, when called for dinner, he would walk in the back door, grab a used towel to wipe his face and then his hands so he didn't soil the bathroom sink too badly with grease etc.
Need I say more? I would would have been off on stress disability. As it was, I almost had to go home because my sides hurt so much from laughing.
Second Part, Now that we're all talking, it becomes apparent that "The Mad Shitter" is not from within. Suspicious looking feces have been found outside on nights when the front door was locked. (It was a simpler time) The captain, now highly motivated to capture the fiend, sets a trap. He goes to Radio Shack, and get a motion detector and rigs the alarm to a light by his bed. The front door is left unlocked, at about 5am, the motion detector is tripped. Forces are gathered, a little time passes. The assembled firefighters rush into the bathroom and find the paperboy, with his pants down, taking a dump. It seems the lad had issues. He was hauled away by the PD. We had a new paperdelivery person after that.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Ahh, Holiday memories
We live in an house built in 1883. Along with the charm comes problems, some unique. At the time our house was built, there were no sewers, just outhouses. (and that's another story) When sewers were put in, elevations apparently dictated that our sewer line should go out the back, through another property (whose sewer lines connect to ours [ANOTHER story]).
At the time the neighbors on the side planted their walnut tree, it was probably 3 feet from the terra cotta (clay) sewer line. By the time we bought our house, the trees roots had eaten our sewer line. In one spot it looked like the creature in "Alien". This caused occasional backups, and the banning of the flushing of anything beyond piss,poop, or paper (toilet). The symptom of a backup was usually a puddle of "water" just beyond our back deck.
Feeling that we could not afford professional sewer help, I learned the fine art of using a rented roto rooter. This is also known as fishing for brown trout and snagging white mice.
My better half's mother and step father used to visit from out of state and stay with us during "the holidays". The extra "load" usually caused problems with the sewer line. This particular year, her step father had a colostomy bag. There seems to have been a period of adjustment. In subsequent years the smell when he changed bags was nothing like that first year. So we had THAT going on. By the time the morning of their departure came, there was a small lake in the back. I felt it needed to be dealt with immediately, so I rented a roto rooter and I'm out back, ankle deep, working my ass off. Before I began, I requested that no one flush a toilet or run water in a sink.
I guess flushing is just an automatic response. I'm already up to my ankles, when suddenly the TIDE COMES IN! And the brown trout are nibbling at my ankles! I hear the front door and the sounds of my MIL leaving. Then better half comes out to check on me. I kind of lost it. I think I said her mom could have just as well hung her ass over the railing and shit on me.
There is a worse story, but it is still not humorous and nearly ended our marriage. Suffice to say, thereafter I PAID whatever it cost to clear the line, and not too long after had the line replaced with plastic (also further from the tree).
At the time the neighbors on the side planted their walnut tree, it was probably 3 feet from the terra cotta (clay) sewer line. By the time we bought our house, the trees roots had eaten our sewer line. In one spot it looked like the creature in "Alien". This caused occasional backups, and the banning of the flushing of anything beyond piss,poop, or paper (toilet). The symptom of a backup was usually a puddle of "water" just beyond our back deck.
Feeling that we could not afford professional sewer help, I learned the fine art of using a rented roto rooter. This is also known as fishing for brown trout and snagging white mice.
My better half's mother and step father used to visit from out of state and stay with us during "the holidays". The extra "load" usually caused problems with the sewer line. This particular year, her step father had a colostomy bag. There seems to have been a period of adjustment. In subsequent years the smell when he changed bags was nothing like that first year. So we had THAT going on. By the time the morning of their departure came, there was a small lake in the back. I felt it needed to be dealt with immediately, so I rented a roto rooter and I'm out back, ankle deep, working my ass off. Before I began, I requested that no one flush a toilet or run water in a sink.
I guess flushing is just an automatic response. I'm already up to my ankles, when suddenly the TIDE COMES IN! And the brown trout are nibbling at my ankles! I hear the front door and the sounds of my MIL leaving. Then better half comes out to check on me. I kind of lost it. I think I said her mom could have just as well hung her ass over the railing and shit on me.
There is a worse story, but it is still not humorous and nearly ended our marriage. Suffice to say, thereafter I PAID whatever it cost to clear the line, and not too long after had the line replaced with plastic (also further from the tree).
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Traveling stories- warning! not for the squeemish!
A blog I read had a piece on "Potty Humor" recently. This triggered a 20 year old memory of a trip to China.
Tourism was still a new thing there when we went. The year before, our american guide had had to spend some nights with her group in army barracks because the hotels were not yet finished.
The hotels were finished, but you could not drink water from the tap when we went. You were given a thermos of hot boiled water you could cool and drink. Toilet facilities in the hotels were very nice, but you wanted to take care of THAT in the hotel, not anywhere else. Facilities elsewhere consisted of some form of slit trenches .
About 5 days into our 3 week trip, we were on a scenic boat tour of the Li river. This is famous for the views of the limestone Karsts (sp?). Very nice except for the temp and humidity (both hovering near 100). The trip included lunch which consisted of steamed fish caught fresh out of the river. The same river with the scenic water buffalo pooping and little naked kids wading.
All the meals we had on the trip were lavish, and there was always something on the table we had not had before. Apparently there was a little something extra this time.
Now is the time for the squeemish to bail.
O M G !
The funniest part of what followed was about 3 days later in Bejing. I was NOT feeling well, but here we were, probably never to return. We were scheduled for a visit to parliament, the Forbidden City and Mao's Tomb. As we approached Mao's Tomb, our jocular guides became VERY serious. There was to be NO joking, smiling or disrespect of ANY kind. This was the most reverred site in China. Indeed, the line of Chinese was 5 abreast and about 300 yards long. As guests we got in ahead of everyone. Just about the time I got to Mao's body, with armed, stern looking guards on each corner, bowel control became a major issue. I started sweating profusely, and had to resort to butt cheek muscles to avoid soiling myself. And I'm stuck in line.
When I finally get out of the building I scan the horizen for facilities. The nearest building is the Forbidden City about 500 yards away. With a very funny looking "walk" I scurry for the nearest door. I enter, looking for ANY kind of facility. I eventually find a nicely tiled room with a colorful tiled slit trench with running water, noisy running water. There were "stalls" of a sort, with typical metal dividers, except they were only about 18" high. These turned into my savior. I had recovered enough to realize there was no toilet paper. (But I had brought 2 packs of Kleenex) and more importantly, if I squatted in the usual position I would likely leave the room with pants of a different color than when I entered. (Perhaps a brown paisely)
So I devised a strategy of keeping my legs forward and leaning back by hanging onto the divider.
I'm sure it looked amusing, fortunately I was alone. (The sounds may have warned people against entering)
I ate nothing but rice for a week. The other thing I learned belatedly is that if you take A LOT of Pepto Bismol, it turns your tongue black. It took a day or two to realize the cause (read the box, duh) before I realized it wasn't just another punishment from a vengeful Gob.
I have found that the worst of times make for the best stories.
Hmm, that reminds me of a story about my late step father...
Tourism was still a new thing there when we went. The year before, our american guide had had to spend some nights with her group in army barracks because the hotels were not yet finished.
The hotels were finished, but you could not drink water from the tap when we went. You were given a thermos of hot boiled water you could cool and drink. Toilet facilities in the hotels were very nice, but you wanted to take care of THAT in the hotel, not anywhere else. Facilities elsewhere consisted of some form of slit trenches .
About 5 days into our 3 week trip, we were on a scenic boat tour of the Li river. This is famous for the views of the limestone Karsts (sp?). Very nice except for the temp and humidity (both hovering near 100). The trip included lunch which consisted of steamed fish caught fresh out of the river. The same river with the scenic water buffalo pooping and little naked kids wading.
All the meals we had on the trip were lavish, and there was always something on the table we had not had before. Apparently there was a little something extra this time.
Now is the time for the squeemish to bail.
O M G !
The funniest part of what followed was about 3 days later in Bejing. I was NOT feeling well, but here we were, probably never to return. We were scheduled for a visit to parliament, the Forbidden City and Mao's Tomb. As we approached Mao's Tomb, our jocular guides became VERY serious. There was to be NO joking, smiling or disrespect of ANY kind. This was the most reverred site in China. Indeed, the line of Chinese was 5 abreast and about 300 yards long. As guests we got in ahead of everyone. Just about the time I got to Mao's body, with armed, stern looking guards on each corner, bowel control became a major issue. I started sweating profusely, and had to resort to butt cheek muscles to avoid soiling myself. And I'm stuck in line.
When I finally get out of the building I scan the horizen for facilities. The nearest building is the Forbidden City about 500 yards away. With a very funny looking "walk" I scurry for the nearest door. I enter, looking for ANY kind of facility. I eventually find a nicely tiled room with a colorful tiled slit trench with running water, noisy running water. There were "stalls" of a sort, with typical metal dividers, except they were only about 18" high. These turned into my savior. I had recovered enough to realize there was no toilet paper. (But I had brought 2 packs of Kleenex) and more importantly, if I squatted in the usual position I would likely leave the room with pants of a different color than when I entered. (Perhaps a brown paisely)
So I devised a strategy of keeping my legs forward and leaning back by hanging onto the divider.
I'm sure it looked amusing, fortunately I was alone. (The sounds may have warned people against entering)
I ate nothing but rice for a week. The other thing I learned belatedly is that if you take A LOT of Pepto Bismol, it turns your tongue black. It took a day or two to realize the cause (read the box, duh) before I realized it wasn't just another punishment from a vengeful Gob.
I have found that the worst of times make for the best stories.
Hmm, that reminds me of a story about my late step father...
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