Life Lesson #2: Don’t go sucking on miscellaneous pipes.

All homosexual inuendo aside this one may be a bit of a no brainer but I was young and had no idea what in the heck I was doing…which leads to this lessons story.

I was still living at home when my Mother decided to take a job in Ocala, Florida. Since I already had a good job at home I decided it was time for me to go out on my own. So, I bought the house I had grown up in from my Mother because I got a good deal, and I kind of wanted to keep the house in the family. My first home, I think I was 20 or 21. It was my childhood home so I knew it well, I thought… That summer after the snow had melted and the birds were singing it got pretty hot, and by pretty hot I mean sticky scrotum, can’t sleep, wanna cry kind of hot. So I cranked on the Air Conditioner. Now, like I said, this was my first house…I had no idea of what things I should check for after a long cold winter. I am a computer nerd not a Mexican handy man. So a few hours later I go down stairs to put a load of clothes on and to my horror there is ice cold water all over the laundry room floor, which just so happens to be next to the furnace/blower. So I get pissed…I got wet feet, and I have no idea why… So I call my Mother up and tell her my problem. She tells me to check the Air Conditioner. Of course! It hits me like a sack of bricks when she tells me where the water is coming from “The Air Conditioner gets cold…moist air goes through the A-frame and condenses, duh…”, I think. The next logical thing to do to solve the problem is to check the condensation pipe leading all that cold water out of the house for a clog. However, the freaking thing is attached to the coil unit on top of the blower, so I can’t check it there. So guess what I did… That’s right ladies and gentlemen, I got an idea, one I thought at the time was good. Though in retrospect it was one of the stupidest things I have ever done. I go out to the pipe. A small white half inch PVC pipe about 4 feet long leading into the drain outside of the house. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? It was like I was in a new house, not the familiar one I had grown up in. And it was then that I executed my perfectly logical plan. I lay down on my belly, put my head close to the ground. I can smell the dirt and I can see a small trickle of water coming from the pipe. I look down into it as far as I can see and I don’t see anything blocking it. I put my lips around the pipe and start to suck to try to get the obstruction out of the pipe. After all it was hot as hell outside and I just wanted the fucking thing to work properly and not get my basement all wet. As I was siphoning nothing in my mind was telling me that this was a bad idea. I think somewhere out there in the cosmos something was watching me and telling my subconscious to shut up so they could have a nice laugh. I stop and look down into the pipe. AHH! I see it…it was dark, it just looked like built up gunk. A few more sucks and I would be good to go. So I firmly place my lips around the pipe again and suck…1…2…COUGH COUGH SPIT SPIT…CHOKE…some of the clog goes down my throat, but it’s all good. “YES!” I thought. I had successfully fixed my first household problem, it’s that same feeling you get when you learn to use the toilet for the first time. Until I felt an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Amazingly, at that point in time my subconscious had returned to me, and it was telling me something was wrong…really wrong. I slowly look down and see a mound of small to medium slugs crawling around!!! SLUGS!?! SLUGS I HAD JUST SPIT OUT OF MY MOUTH!?! SLUGS I HAD JUST SWALLOWED?!?! SON OF A *BARF* *VOMIT*… It still to this day makes me sick to my stomach… Guys who were in Vietnam got nothing on me.jessica rockwell
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I work in an office…

I enjoy the time I have alone during the day taking a crap…

It is the single most fulfilling event in many of my average days…

I like getting paid to wipe my ass…

It makes me feel important.

Knowing that, you now also know that I am a very lucky person, mostly bad luck…but lucky none the less.

A few months ago I was sitting in the handicapped stall (I like to be able to sprawl out, plus if they don’t want to be treated any differently then they can use the tiny stall with the door that opens so close to the toilet you actually have to step in the toilet to get out of the stall, just like every other able bodied human) and I was enjoying a nice post lunch dookie.

As I was nearing the end of my time in bathroom a person came in and took the stall next to me. Now, I ain’t exactly the squeamish type but there is just something about hearing another man’s ass cheeks spread as he sits and the sound his anus makes as it lightly dilates, preparing it’s self for the task ahead, followed by the pungent aroma of 4 hours of sweat and underpants…it’s enough to make a grown man cry.

Anyway…as he and I share the moment, both squatting over a dark inviting hole doing our business I happen to look down and notice his shoes. They were white tennis shoes, fairly new, nice, but not my style. We continue our journey…

I was getting ready to clean up the work site when this speedy guy starts to do the same. He couldn’t have been in there for more then 45 seconds it wasn’t his turn!!! No worries though…what could I do? The rules are the rules. I am assuming he was late for something cause that’s the only valid reason a man should ever need to take a dump that quick and break the bathroom exit line.

Sitting quietly on the edge of vomiting waiting for him to leave because two men cannot, without destroying a piece of their soul, make eye contact after something as traumatic as listening to another man’s most intimate grunts, I wait. He gets up, zips his pants, and flushes the toilet with his foot. Immediately I could tell something was wrong. The toilet made an unnatural gurgle and a split second after that deafening noise came the floods…the floods that included not only toilet water but this man’s used toilet paper, and if I may be so bold, HIS FUCKING TERDS! The waters coming ever closer to this mans nice new shoes forced the man to grab hold of the top of the stall and as I saw his hands come over the top I instantly saw his feet dissapear. This was an altehtic man because from his death grip position on the flooding stall’s wall he was able to open the door and escape, without washing his hands, without apologizing, and without calling for assistance. So, surrounded by this mans lunch, asshole drying out, trying to figure out how in the hell to get out of this prison unscathed I had to take the plunge. I put my feet down and finished up. As I was leaving I almost slip and fall, which I feel would have qualified me for some kind of military award. I escape…and get back to the office to tell the others of my adventure.

I never saw those tennis shoes again…and I will never forget what happened in that stall that warm summer day…

Life Lesson #1: Be careful when adding suffixes to the ends of words in mixed company.

Here is the story…

Like many of you out there I add various suffixes to words that probably shouldn’t have them to relay a somewhat different meaning at times given their level of appropriateness. Words like cabinocity and gittyupidness from that stupid car commercial remind me of this phenomenon. You have done it before, I know you have…I don’t know what it’s official name is.

So anyway, I used to work at a help-desk for a company I will not name here. Doing all the menial tasks and jobs that a typical help-desk person does. You know, helping people turn on their computer and learn how to print a document kind of make you want to light yourself on fire and jump out of a window crap. So I am over in front of a bunch of my help-desk buddies talking it up with them and I happened to be wearing a light army green button up shirt that day. And being like any other white computer geek it was unbuttoned with a funny t-shirt underneath. One of my friends was an older lady named Marilyn a very nice and sweet lady. She always used to call me her “insert a various fruit or vegetable associated with the color of my shirt”. For example, if I was wearing a blue shirt, I was her little blueberry that day. Annoying as it was, I accepted that this was her way of being nice to me and I allowed it. Yes, I allowed it.

However…on this very fateful day while having a good time on someone else’s dime something happened, a life lesson. For it was this particular day when I was to be Marilyn’s Sweet Pea. Soon after that someone was picking on me about something. I don’t remember what it was but I was hurt…and Marilyn saw this discomfort. While looking at her I remembered her earlier comment to me and I immediately and unknowingly responded to my attacker with “your hurting my Sweet Peaness!” I was loud and I made sure that everyone within 20 feet heard me and made sure that they knew my Sweet Peaness was in agony. Of course I had no idea what I was saying…I thought I was innocently adding -ness to the end of a word. People 5 rows back on the phone with customers are gazing at me in horror as I scream that my Sweet Peaness is being hurt. It was only when I was explicitly asked what in the hell I was doing did I then realize what I was saying. As my face turned pale and I was becoming increasingly confident that I was going to be fired. I walked away…laughed at and just slightly smarter.