Plunge, Plunge, Plunge

Posted by Danny

We have toilet issues. They constantly clog. Seriously, I plunge potties multiple times each week, and this has been going on for years.

Now keep in mind there are two large, six-foot men living in this house. Our intestines are 25 feet long,  and we pack down some food. My favorite meal is my homemade bean dip: refried beans, cheddar cheese, ground beef and hot salsa. The girls and Jesse won’t even look at it. They claim it looks like it has already seen my colon.

I tell them that not all food looks appetizing. The kids’ favorite yogurt squirts out of a plastic tube and looks like pink snot. But you don’t hear me complaining. Why? Cause it tastes good!

I seldom see Jesse eat – but I know he does.  He often enters the house with a styrofoam cup from Cookout, Chargrill or Jersey Mike’s.  The man ain’t going hungry.  And the stuff hitting his stomach isn’t easy on the system.  I can assure you it’s coming out with a bang.

But are the clogs coming from Jesse and me?  Nah.  Out of the 8,672 times I’ve used a plunger in this house, not one – and I am not exaggerating, has been for someone of the male species.  All have been for little girls and usually just for pee. 

It has nothing to do with what’s coming out.  It’s about what they’re putting in there.  It’s all about the toilet paper! 

I swear they’re wiping with my t-shirts.  Like entire, large, possibly long-sleeved, Hanes for Men tees. 

I’m aggressive in my quest to be clean after a bathroom visit.  I understand not wanting to be all damp or squinchy down there.  But geez.  We go through toilet paper like a Chinese restaurant goes through rice.  I bought Proctor and Gamble stock years ago and have made a killing – because I’m keeping them in business!  (They make Charmin.)

I’ve decided to solve the issue. I will ration the toilet paper.  I’m going to buy a metal box and a combination lock where I’ll keep the loot.  If they need to go, they’ll have to come to me.  I’ll give them six squares.  That should be good for three wipes. 

I’ll let you know how it goes.

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