Can it be true? Are you fucking serious? It’s Friday? Hells to the yeah!
Not only is it Friday, but I get to leave work at noon today to head to Austin. The only thing that could make this better would be if it were a payday Friday, and if I didn’t have to drive 4 and a half hours just to get to Austin.
There is one other thing that’s kind of been bothering me today.
(I almost told this as this week’s TMI story, but realized it was more of a FML tale. So, at least for today- consider it FML Friday.)
I was in the restroom at my house last night, doing my business, when I noticed that my feet were wet. Wet feet in the bathroom are never OK, unless someone has recently exited the shower. (We all know that guy who doesn’t pay attention care where his pee might fall.)
After I had successfully finished my business, I dried off my feet, and bent down to get a closer look at the floor.
Oh. No. The water was coming out from the bottom of the toilet.
I have seen this before, and the outcome is never good. And believe me, I know. I’m the queen of toilet incidents.
The first time I saw water leaking from my toilet, I was a junior in college. I shared an apartment with two other girls, and we were all at the peak of being college alcoholics. I had noticed for a while that our toilet had a little wiggle to it. Every time you sat down you could feel the base rocking, just a little bit. Just like in my current bathroom, a little bit of water would escape from the bottom whenever we flushed. I can only assume that it was damaged by a combination of our drunkeness, and our asses. Because when you’re a drunk- you have a tendency of just “plopping” down on the toilet with no abandon.
We have to remember that toilets are practically just made out of thick glass. You have take care of them. You can’t just put anything down them. And you definitely can’t throw all 100 -and- something lbs of yourself down backwards onto the seat of the toilet in a drunken stupor.
Which is exactly what I did.
We had at least ten people over at the time, (because you never do stupid drunk things when you get dropped off at home by yourself) and to be honest, I was really way too gone to remember all the horrible details. All I know is that at some point during the night, I stumbled into the bathroom. I’m not sure if I was actually trying to sit down, or if I slipped on the bath rug and fell into the toilet- but either way it happened.
My fat ass broke the toilet at the base.
Like I said, I don’t remember details- but the way I’ve heard it, (and believe me- I’ve heard all sorts of versions of this story) I ran through a living room full of people with my pants down around my ankles, ran into my room, dove head first onto my bed, missed, and landed on the floor with my bare ass facing a room full of very confused people.
Next thing they knew, water was gushing into the living room. I don’t know what happened next, but from what I hear- I cried in my bedroom while all of my wonderful friends cleaned the mess. I do know that the carpet had to be replaced and there were giant fans airing the place out for about a week.
That could be a funny story to look back on and laugh about later.
A couple years later I moved to a new city for work and I was living alone. I didn’t have many friends yet, except for a group of very fun, very loud gay boys (who I love to pieces.) One night, after about 6 Mi Cocina Mambo Taxis- we went back to my one room loft apartment, mostly because I didn’t care if people smoked inside. I guess I should mention that my toilet at this apartment also had a shaky base.***
We were all extremely toasted and playing game of Cranium. I had to pee very badly, but wanted to hurry so I didn’t miss anything. I ran to the bathroom, and attempted to pull down my pants on the way there to save time. As I approached the toilet, I slipped backwards.
I fucking broke the second toilet of my life.
This time I cried in the closet while the gays, very thoroughly, cleaned up the flooding bathroom.
So now you know why a little leak at the bottom of the toilet can really freak a girl out.
We all know bad things happen in threes.
***ok, i admit it. the second incident didn’t involve a shaky base. it was a brand new toilet, in a brand new apartment. my fatass simply broke it. i have no excuse.
Happy Friday yall!