The One About a Real Shitty Day

Category: weekleez

 

 

The One About A Real Shitty Day
June 01, 2004

hi kids,

so. today was a real shitty day.

for the most part, i love my job. sure, it can be tough. and yeah, working outside all day can be a real drag what with all the heat that the burning sun puts out and the humidity and the sweating and the daily massive water consumption (which i hear is good for you. i’m not sure if it’s good or not, but i do know that if i didn’t drink a gallon of water a day i would probably die. eventually i plan on growing a hump or two in which to store water and oreo cookies.), but usually i love my job.

however.

occassionally there are very, really, real, bad days. like sometimes i step in an ant pile and i don’t realize it until half the ant army has made it to my knees and they all start biting. that’s a pretty bad day. but today was shitty.

sometimes we have to pressure wash a house and you get soaking wet and your shoes squish-squash and there’s not a dry spot anywhere. and there you are. all wet. all day long.
that’s a pretty bad day.
but today was shitty.

sometimes we’ll walk in a place and it looks like someone has been murdered. the carpet’s all stinky and stained. rust-colored clumpy stains. and you can feel the weirdness in the air. and you really wished you had asked more questions before you took the job. questions like, “so, any particular reason why you’re wanting to paint just the bedroom?” or maybe, “should we bring bleach?” and even, “have the forensic pathologists finished with the crime scene?” but no, you don’t ask any questions ‘cos you’re just thrilled to death that you’ve got an inside job in the middle of summer and you can’t wait to be painting in the cool of air conditioning. you idiot.
that’s a pretty bad day. and honestly, that did happen today.
but that’s not why today was a shitty day.

today while we were painting in Murder House III (i’m certain we’ve painted in two other Murder Houses, one of them was a multiple murder, i just know it.), i was painting in the master bathroom. and the toilet was in the bedroom. so like, in the bathroom is just a hole. so it’s pretty obvious that the water is turned off. this isn’t new to me. we have worked many jobs where the water was turned off and there was no potty.

i hate those jobs.

around 11am i say to my father, “gosh dad. i’d really like to pee now.”

“well, lesse. let’s check to see if the other bathroom has a flush left in it.”

Lesson in Toilets #1: when the water has been cut off, there is always One Last Flush left in the tank.

so we go to the other bathroom and dad lifts up the lid on the tank and no, there’s no water in it.

“ok, i’ll tell ya what. i don’t think the neighbors are home. i’ll go fill up a bucket and we’ll force flush it that way.”

“ok.”

Lesson in Toilets #2: if the water has been turned off and the One Last Flush has been used, you can fill up a bucket of water and pour it in the bowl and the water will go down, and it’s a Super Flush ‘cos you use more water than what usually comes out of the tank. neat, huh?

so then dad lifts up the seat lid and oh my holy lord.

“ohh…” i said.

“JESUS CHRIST!” he said and slammed down the lid.

“that was…not cool.”

“GODDAMNIT!” and we rushed out of there like we were being chased by hornets.

he only lifted that lid for a nanosecond. but i promise you, the atrocity that awaited our eyes has been burned into our memories, and unfortunately, will be there for all eternity.

“WHAT KIND OF ASSHOLE WOULD DO THAT?!”

“oh my god. did this just really happen?”

“I WISH I KNEW WHO DID THAT. SO I COULD KILL HIM.”

“i wish we could go back in time.”

“i could kill this person and not feel guilty. in fact, i would go to bed happy tonight knowing i had killed the sonofabitch.”

“ugh. me too.”

“here. take the keys and drive to the nearest gas station.”

“uh, i don’t feel so good right now. i think. i’m just gonna. go in this other room. and, paint. or something.”

“this is not a good sign.”

“whattya mean?”

“i mean, you don’t just see something like, like that *gag* and expect the rest of the day to be normal. that’s a Sign. and it’s not a good one.”

“well, if it helps, i think someone was murdered in that first bedroom. *gag* oh god, i can still see it in my head.”

“*gag* shit. we can’t throw up in here. we have no water to clean it up with!”

after a few more moments of ranting we finally went back to work.

i’d like to describe what i saw in that toilet bowl. so that you too, can appreciate the horror. but it really won’t matter because even a description would not do it justice.

still, i gotta try, for your sake.

remember the sorta famous movie silence of the lambs starring Dr. Lector and Agent Starling? well, remember the part where Agent Starling was investigating Jame Gumb’s house and she opens that one door and there’s that ??? in the bathtub?

okay.

it was like someone had scooped some of that stuff up and plopped it into the DRY (AS IN, NO WATER IN THE BOWL) toilet and then gave birth to a healthy 8 pound turd and left it there for a month or two. do you see how gross that sounds? well, multiply it by 4,000 and you’re there.

i ask you, WHAT KIND OF REDNECK FUCKTARD DOES SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!

an hour later dad comes in the kitchen where i’m painting and says, “hey, it’s lunchtime.”

“oh. i really, don’t want to.”

“yeah, me neither. i still see it.”

“me too.”

a half hour later dad says, “c’mon jaimie, we have to eat lunch. neither one of us ate breakfast and we’ll pass out if we don’t eat something.”

“okay, i’m just gonna finish this one little thing first.”

“okay.”

fifteen minutes after that dad says, “okay for real. we have to eat now.”

“okay.”

so we go out on the porch and get out our sandwiches and kinda stare at them. and we sip on our sodas. we both manage to eat about half of the sandwiches and dad says, “i think i’m gonna save the rest of this for later.”

“yeah. me too.” i say and wrap up the rest of my sandwich, “i bet we don’t eat these later.”

“not a chance.”

we sit there a while longer calling the bastard a few choice names. and then in the most pitiful voice i’ve ever heard, dad says, “i wish it was gone.”

and i lost it. i laughed so hard. ‘cos here’s my dad, a grown man, and even he doesn’t want to go back in the house even though the lid is down, the bathroom door is closed, and we’ve vowed to not enter that bathroom ever again.

“this whole day has been ruined.”

“yes. it has.”

“there’s nothing that can be done to salvage the rest of this day.”

“nope. but since you brought it up…”

“brought what up?”

“about how this day is ruined? see, i think one of the workers at the duplex, either the heating & air guys or the electrical guys took a leak in my toilet.”

“you’re shitting me.”

“i shit you not, dad.”

“dammit.”

“yeah, so maybe after we finish here we can go over there and take care of that? there’s water in the bowl. not like *gag* in the toilet *gag* here.”

“*gag* who takes a shit in a dry toilet?! WHO?!”

“i dunno dad.”

“i swear, jaimie. we’ve had our civil rights violated.”

“*laughing* dad, that was the biggest turd i’ve ever seen in my life.”

“oh don’t make me laugh. my stomach is killing me.”

poor dad. see, he had vomited the night before, so all his stomach and rib muscles were sore. and everytime i started to laugh dad would beg me not to.

hours later we’re on our way home and dad says, “are you sure you want to go to the duplex?”

“i know it’s gonna suck. but we might as well get it over with today, since today is already ruined.”

“yeah. you’re right.”

so we get there and we fill up a bucket at the Catoe’s house and we go into my bathroom and lift the lid and i’ll be damned, some asshole had taken a shit in my toilet! admittedly it wasn’t as bad as the toilet at Murder House III, at least this was flushable.

“GODDAMN IT!”

“i thought they had just peed in it.”

“GODDAMN IT! TWICE?! IN ONE DAY?!”

“my god, what are the odds?”

“I WANT TO KILL THESE PEOPLE!”

“i mean, yeah it sucks to have to work on a house that doesn’t have running water. but i mean, we do it. and we don’t shit in people’s non-working toilets.”

“THEY NEED TO BE SHOT!”

“can we flush this again?”

“THIS HAS BEEN A SHITTY DAY.”

“but think about it dad, this, what happened today? it can’t possibly happen to us again tomorrow.”

and now, about every 20 minutes one of us has to say something about it. because it’s in our heads. it won’t leave and it has consummed our every thought.

dad: you couldn’t pay me to clean that out.

me: i’d do it for a thousand dollars.

dad: hell, i’d do it for $500.

***

me: would it be possible to just remove the toilet completely? without, you know, disturbing the contents? like if you duct taped the lid down?

dad: that would be the only way to do it. and i’d just cut the bolts with a dremel. forget the bolts, man.

me: yeah. cut, grab, and run.

dad: and i’d throw it out in those woods back there. i’d never think of it again.

me: is that legal?

dad: i wouldn’t care.

***

me: are toilets expensive?

dad: nah, you can get one for $60.

me: so see, i’d have $940 left. i’d consider that a pretty good day.

***

dad: i wish i knew who the asshole was and where he lived…

***

dad: it was probably one of the damned Sheetrock guys. animals.

***

dad: you know, i bet if you poured some kind of emulsifier on it, then you could flush it without buying a new toilet.

me: oh that’s gross though.

dad: well, you’d have to let it soak *skknt*

me: *sknnt*

dad: it would have to rehydrate. hee.

me: BAHhahahahahahaahahaaaaa

dad:ow! ow! don’t laugh! stop! heeee you would have to heeeee chop it up!

me: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

dad: stop it! heeeee! it hurts! heeeee!

and that kids, is a Shitty Day.

this Shitty Day has been brought to you by:
Murder House III, Shitplex 1.0, and the number 2.

next week’s epitomb: hopefully no fecal matter of any kind will be involved. let’s hope it’s about something happy and light, like gum surgery or something.

jaimie “i hate people” pickle

Tags: , ,

No Comments

Comments are closed.