More Talk About Poop

You'll all be thrilled to know that after three days of standing in a bathtub full of cat shit, I finally solved the problem.

Here is a list of things that did NOT fix the clog:

1 bottle of Drano Max Gel

2 bottles of Liquid-Plumr Foaming Pipe Snake

2 cans of Liquid-Plumr Power Jet
Several applications of Drain Out Crystal Clog Remover

Regular household plumbing snake (toilet auger)

Not so regular, specially purchased 25 foot plumbing snake

And before you start in on the "You shouldn't flush all those chemicals down the drain in such a short time, don't you know you have single-handedly ruined the environment and when we all die, we know just who to blame!!!" lecture, I will stop you right now and say that I've already heard it all from Man-friend, who stood behind me while I leaned into that bathtub full of shit and yelled at me-

"You need to learn to respect chemicals! They could kill you and Monkey-Butt and the entire world!!! What are you doing? Stop pouring chemicals down the drain, LET ME THINK ABOUT THIS PROBLEM, HOW CAN I SOLVE THE PROBLEM WHEN YOU KEEP POURING CHEMICALS DOWN THE DRAIN????!!!!"

And I was all "Dude, have you met my father? I would rather die a million chemically induced deaths than have him come fix this clog for me. There's no time to think, just hand me the f&*%ing Drano!"

As a matter of fact, I'm gonna add one more thing to the list of things that didn't fix the clog:

1 boyfriend







But...here is what did fix the clog:
2 bottles of Liquid Lightning Drain Opener

+

closing off all the drains and flushing two sinkfuls of water simultaneously towards the clog, causing it to burst out. (sorry no graphic for that one)

+ 1 bottle of cheap vodka


After all is said and done, I can say without a doubt that 1) Plumbers are underpaid and 2) I am now qualified to be a plumber.

And lest you think that I would never allow my son near another litter box, he was given that chore back immediately after I finished that bottle of vodka, had a quick shower, and my nerves were settled, except now he has to scoop it into a bag and carry it out to the trash can. Because no matter what, mommy is still lazy and would rather spend weeks standing in a bathtub of cat shit than clean the box regularly.

There Is Poop In My Bathtub

I'm going to start out by saying that I buy the all natural, pine, biodegradable, flushable kitty litter for many reasons but number one being that I'm lazy and I like that if I don't clean it for three days, the litter box still smells pine fresh (unlike the other stuff), and I can just flush it down the toilet rather than having to walk all the way out to the trash can with a bag of poo (unlike the other stuff).

That being said, not even this kitty litter is flushable when you pour 5 lbs. of it down the toilet at once, as my son proved unequivocally last night.

I'm going to finish by saying that apparently, all drains lead to the bathtub.

National Hug Someone Day

The staff* at "There's Never A Line For The Men's Room" is officially declaring today, September 11, National Hug Someone You Love Day.

Go ahead, hug someone. And if you can't find someone that you love to hug, then hug anyone. And if you can't find anyone at all to hug, well here's a nice big one for you-



*For the sake of full disclosure, I will admit that by staff I mean myself and my two very adorable and very unhelpful cats secretaries.

"Special"

This is an everyday, if not multiple times a day occurrence. And even though I want to yell at her for scratching up the screen door, it's very hard when my mind's all "Oh no, what if she does this when I'm not home and gets stuck there for hours?"

Oh my poor, special kitty. She's terrible and cranky and has scratched no less than a dozen children since she's lived with us but she's so damn cute that I can't help but love her.

Seriously, fucking adorable, right?

The Sacrifices We Make

I hate exercise. But man-friend started this thing a couple months ago about "I've always said the woman I'm with has to take care of herself," and I'll be honest, when he said that to me, I was truly tempted to pinch one of his giant man boobs so hard that the nipple would come off. And then stuff it up that oversized ass of his.

"How's that for taking care of myself bitch?"

But I didn't. Because, even though I'm a firm believer in not changing yourself for someone else, he's definitely proven that he's worth making happy and if, in making him happy, I end up with a supermodel's ass...ah well, it might be worth it.

So I started lifting weights about a month ago. Turns out Man-friend used to be a personal trainer and was more than happy to 'customize a workout plan' for me. There goes that other nipple, right up the patooie.

And even though I hatE, haTE, hATE, HATE doing the work, I do enjoy the change I feel. I say feel because I took before pictures and compared them to month later pictures and still can't see one bit of change.

So then it pops into my mind "Hey, what would speed this thing up? I know! Running!" And I go out and buy new sneakers and sports bras, plan my course, psych myself up and get up the next morning, put the kid on the school bus, walk to the end of the driveway, stretch my legs and arms like they do in the movies, take a deep breath, and start running.

Well, it takes about 6.2 seconds to remember the one very important thing I had forgotten...of all the exercises in the world, I hate running the most. It occurs to me that I'd rather do a million crunches than run a mile. But at this point, I'm wearing at least $80 worth of clothing devoted specifically to running, so I'm kind of stuck. And I get really mad because the truth is, I don't even care about exercise, but now I'm doing it all the damn time.

Know what I do care about though? Cheesecake. My grandmother makes a great cheesecake and used to always bring it to family gatherings but no one but me ever ate it and so she barely makes it anymore. So, even though I care immensely about cheesecake, I don't have nearly enough of it in my life right now, and even though I don't give a fuck about back-fat, I have way too much of that.

So I run. I run, run, run and think about cheesecake. I dream about cheesecake. I can taste the cheesecake while I'm eating the garden salad with low fat dressing. I obsess over cheesecake with cherries, and sliced almonds, and lemon curd topping. And I keep reminding myself that this is just one of the sacrifices we make for the ones we love. But so help me, when I ask this man to buy me a $250 bikini to show off this hot body next summer, he better be willing to sacrifice back!