Friday, March 26, 2010

The one where I clog the toilet. Again.

We are being forced to make some very difficult decisions for the new house. We are often asked to get in the car, drive somewhere that sometimes looks like an abandoned crack den, and pick out things. Important things. Like sinks and toilets and lighting fixtures and stone, oh my. Recently, we drove, sans child of course (because an 18 month-old + lighting fixtures/unsecured sinks does not = a good time, or rational decisions) about 30 miles away to pick out the plumbing fixtures for our new house. It wasn't in the best part of town, and after seeing the building, our conversation went something like this:
Me: This is a little scary.
Paul: Well, they are wholesalers.
Me: Wholesalers, as in, we steal this stuff and sell it to you for a reasonable price?
Paul: Possibly.

As I said before, this building somewhat resembled an abandoned crack den. This was not par for our contractor - he usually sends us to really nice showrooms because he lacks the ability to do anything half-assed. Or cheap. Ahem. Anywho, I had a feeling that we were going to stumble upon a.) a syringe-toting drug lord that would rob us of everything we have - including my mom's car (that's right, we live with them AND drive their vehicles) or b.) the land of Oz-like showroom. Luckily for us, it turned out to be the latter. Sort of. It was definitely very un-assuming on the outside, let's just leave it at that.

We met a very nice lady, who made sure to make it very clear that she was the only one who was working there and that they closed at 4:30 (instead of the 5 o'clock that was posted on the door) and that she no longer worked Saturdays. We started in on the kitchen sinks and she had to run into her office to look something up when the feeling came over me: I had to poop. Now. I told Paul that I needed to use the restroom and he directed me toward the back of the showroom. When I got in there, I was totally expecting to be blown away by the coolest fixtures they had to offer. Letdown. Then I noticed a sign beside the toilet: PLEASE RETURN THE SEAT TO THE CLOSED POSITION AS THIS IS A WORKING EXHIBIT. Nice. So, what they were trying to tell me is, if I really liked that particular toilet, the lady would say, "Oh, sure. Come with me into the ladies room. We have a working exhibit!" Eww. Just as I was reading the sign I thought to myself, "Gee, self. It would really suck to clog this bitch up". I finished my business and flushed....

DAMNIT. ShitshitshitSHIT! Clogged. I swear, for such a small person I can really drop some logs. I panicked and looked around. No plunger. Not behind the toilet, not under the sink. Nothing. Men's room. If there is one thing I know it is that men always have the plunger. I ran over and peeked in. Nothing. I was going to have to do the unthinkable: reach in and pull that turd out go ask for a plunger. I arrived before the saleswoman returned and whispered to Paul that I had clogged the toilet. No, there is not plunger. No, not even in the men's room. Then he told me to reach in. F that! When the lady came back I said, "This is really embarrassing, but do you have a plunger?" she ignored me so I spoke up, "DO YOU HAVE AH PLUNGER?!" she looked up at my red face and said, "Uh, no. Don't think so. Don't worry about it hun. I'll call the guy." Oh Jesus. Great. She was going to have to call someone who was going to have to plung out my shit probably a good 3 hours later. Poor soul. We SOOoooo weren't going to get their best prices.

As you can imagine, moving on from that conversation and back to the task at hand was kind of akward. For me at least. She seemed to not skip a beat and went about showing us the options for soaking tubs. Sure. Whatever. Got any of those around? I am sure I can somehow clog the drain with hair or something gross. Needless to say, it was an awesome day. I was pretty proud of myself as that was my first real public clogging. If the quote that we recieved for the plumbing fixtures is any indication of the impression I made on the saleslady, it was rich. Priceless even.


  1. omg I can't breathe I am laughing SO hard at this post. wow. It sounds like you were at the place we picked all our stuff out at. Right by Gatsby's strip joint by chance? lol glad your G-tract is all better!

  2. I laughed so hard I almost peed myself! Hilarious! I think we've all been there at least once.