What the fuck is the haps exactly; or, Cool Toilet Lives

WHAT IS HAPPENING MY PEOPLE! School started. I’M REALLY HAPPY. It’s purely selfish. Okay, it’s medium selfish. The girls were bored, too. They were ready for school to start.

This daguerreotype is from the day that I blasted the girls awake with the Lion King. FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, Y’ALL.

FURCE, GIRLS. Way to go.

It’s going okay, except for the fact that they tried to slap Franny into an additional math class that starts before the actual start of school. To quote Buffy, “A world of no.” This in spite of the fact she is getting As and Bs. I sent an email to the principal asking her to remove Franny, in light of her grades and the fact that she is a year younger than her peers. Aaaand…crickets. You know, I am not interested in your test scores if it kills my kid’s interest in school. I’m just not.

On Saturday P. went hiking somewheres near Gold Bar and incidentally saw chanterelles as he went along and brought a few home. I was busy sauteeing them and putting them into eggs with green onions and sharp white cheddar on Sunday morning when BAM, krumpy walked in from PERU. How often does that happen? She brought the girls cute hats with llamas on and she brought me these, because clearly I am a fucking pimp with a limp:

What Krumpy doesn’t know (/secret camera show guy voice) is that I used to actually smoke cigarillos in high school. I mean, of course I did. Any ridiculous, sleazy thing I could think of to do, I would try. I cannot tell you what habits stuck; it’s a breach of my contract.

I met Krumpy in Internetsport about seven (!!) years ago when she lived on the East Coast and now she’s working in Eastern Washington. I visited her in August before we went to Long Beach and I got to drive the Elco. I had that tense new car feeling on the way out, but on the way back, I was broken in and really learned how to drive it. That’s the best feeling for someone who loves to drive I think. I smiled most of the way home, even all 3,000 times I had to stop for gas. (I have a new appreciation for the Honda, which I realize is my wife. The Elco is my mistress.) My only regret is forgetting my camera! But I will visit her again, soon I hope.

So she napped in my bed, because, seriously, Machu Piccu and then like 18 hours of travel and then took off to her work function thing downtown. And tweeted about food. Everyone who visits tweets about the food. It’s either obligation or terror. I don’t care much either way. Anyway this gives me hope as the proud future owner of a B&B.

Let’s talk about GUEST ROOMS, which I will have to put Krumpy in by Decmeber or so. This is all very germane because my contractor, who reminds me of Mike Ehrmantrout, emailed me today and says he has designs for my basement. This could not come a second too soon, because I parked the Elco tonight (no, I will never tire of saying that, but I will suppress the urge soon, I promise) and walked into the basement where I heard the unsettling sound of running water.

I froze. Was it the sink? No such luck. I have this sad little john in a tiny room (not referring to P. here) that is going to be replaced and BAM! It cracked.

Have you ever seen a toilet tank just crack like this? There have not been weather extremes or anything. This motherfucking toilet was just like FUCK IT, #YOLO, SNAP. The water flowed out of the tank onto the floor so I turned off the valve leading into the tank and flushed, to get a lot of the water out of the tank. Then I mopped and ran a fan into the water closet. So eh. Good timing that Mike E. is coming by in a couple of months to wreck shop.

Fortunately it was not the disaster I thought it might be and I was still able to go running. I am miraculously not injured in my old age at the moment so I am running again.

And then something amazing happened involving a Sharpie. When shit gets shitbozzled you can draw on it, it’s a rule.

Let’s rewind. Okay so in March I met Cool Toilet at 8 a.m., the mascot of my work neighborhood.

Then a few days later, SOMEONE SMASH COOL TOILET.

I was legit sad.

So tonight, I dropped broken sad john into the Fuckit Bucket. COOL TOILET LIVES!!!

NSA,

SJ

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2 Responses to “What the fuck is the haps exactly; or, Cool Toilet Lives”

  1. dorrie says:

    Your girls are HUGE. Dang, girl! My youngest is heading off to Western next weekend. If you hear anything, it’s probably me.

  2. A says:

    Your tags make me laugh every time!