I have no idea what they were brushing.
So, as we all know, last Thursday was Thanksgiving here in the States.
As such, with 8 people coming over for dinner (not including my family of 4), I began to clean the house.
Yes, ladies, I clean.
(...no, men, I don’t clean (have to cover my bases in Mantown here))
If you’re a guy, please skip this and go to this post here which has a fantastic picture of Scarlett Johanssen…then come back again when I write about boobies and stuff.
That’s right, ladies…
…I can bring home the bacon…
…and fry it up in a pan…
Of course, after I fry it up in the pan, the stove is covered with oil splatters and grease...and the sink is full of dishes and spatulas that I forget to clean up...and wouldn't you know that the dishes that I DO clean are put away WET on top of the dry dishes, making the dry dishes all wet and now they have to be redone...
...boy..does THAT piss off my wife...
Hey, I’m still a guy.
Anyway…with my wife embroiled in the debauchery that is “trying to get ready while making enough food to feed Zimbabwe”, I began the ritual of cleaning the house.
I take an interest in cleaning the house because:
a) My mom always made me clean my room as a kid
b) I have children
c) I don’t want guests to see stains in the toilet…made from residual poo particles from a massive, earth-shattering, BM days earlier
As such, I have a disdain for things dusty or dirty.
So, armed with my toilet scrubber and Windex, I entered the kids’ bathroom (a.k.a., “The Room with the Germs”)
My kids are aged 4 (my son) and 7 (my daughter).
There are two problems with this combination:
1) My daughter believes that toothpaste must be applied to toothbrushes in pints
2) My son treats his penis like a fire hose, where everything EXCEPT the toilet is on fire
The first five minutes are spent scrubbing neon-pink toothpaste from the top of the sink.
Apparently, children’s toothpaste is made primarily from cement.
When you combine the fact that my kids squeeze toothpaste onto their toothbrushes like they were milking cows, I can see where the pasting goes awry.
What I DON’T understand, is how someone can drop a baseball-sized glop of toothpaste onto the counter…look at it….then walk away thinking, “yeah….that looks fine...RIGHT...THERE.”
I’m actually considering cancelling my pest-control for mice in my shed, and having my daughter just go in there with a tube of SpongeBob Colgate….there’s NO WAY those f*cking mice are getting out of that sh*t.
After I’m done chiseling off the toothpaste sculptures, I move on to the toilet.
Here, my son has gone to the trouble of helping me rinse off the plumbing fixtures with his urine:
1) There is pee on top of the toilet.
2) There is pee on the sides of the toilet.
3) There is pee on the wall.
4) There is pee in front of the toilet.
I see no pee actually INSIDE the toilet.
…however…there IS an Apple Jack in there.
I’m not clear as to why.
I no longer ask.
Anyway, he usually never tells us that he misses the toilet…
…except for one time where he came out of the bathroom after peeing on top of the toilet and the wall ABOVE it…yelling that “his pee came out like a volcano.”
So…approaching the toilet in my full hazmat-handling stance (legs wide…head back…arms outstretched), I give it a Windex hose-down.
I lift the lid…and give the lid and the top of the seat a spray…
...then…I lift the seat…
On the bottom of the seat:
A big, hard, glop of toothpaste on the BOTTOM of the toilet seat.
I cannot fully explain my confusion here...upon seeing this and, mind wandering, trying to fathom how the f*ck it actually got there.
Toothpaste….on the bottom of the seat…
I don’t even want to know.
I really don’t.
Thursday, November 29, 2007