Tag Archives: toilets

My Neighborhood on a Grey Day

I was in a funk earlier, so I decided to walk and take photographs of the most depressing/poignant/thought-provoking things that struck me. Here are some of the results: 

Tireless

Tireless

 

Lit

Men

Men

BarbedWireCross

The Chrysler Building

The Chrysler Building

The Empire State Building

The Empire State Building

Toilet

The Toilet

 

ReservedParking

AndJusticeForAll

 

In case you couldn’t tell from the angsty tone…taking these ended up being incredibly therapeutic.  And I think I’ll undertake frequent photographic walks in the coming weeks.  It’ll be really good because…I don’t know if I’ll be in this neighborhood for much longer, so it’s sort of like spending quality time with an elderly aunt in the nursing home who’s on her last leg.  Only better.

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Let this be a lesson to you all.

My toilet has taken to gurgling.  It’s kind of like the noise that people make when they are about to vomit.  As it is gurgling, the water in the bowl bubbles up in sizable air pockets.  Pockets the size of Big Macs.  Or RuPaul’s fists.  What causes this phenomenon? 

I can’t remember who it was, but someone warned my roommate and me that it was entirely possible for our toilet to overflow, thus flooding our already in a sorry state apartment.  Is it the rain?  Yeah, I think that’s what the person said–the rain paired with a ground floor apartment.  When the storm drains reach maximum capacity, the water has no choice but to displace itself into the surrounding dwellings.  Like a Myanmarian refugee.  Or Queen Latifah in the 2003 classic Bringing Down the House.  (Not to be mistaken with 1995’s semi-similarly premised Houseguest, starring Sinbad and a confusingly alive Phil Hartman.)

Only it’s too simple to say “hamburger-sized air pockets, end of story.”  Because the air pockets have become carriers.  They leave behind unidentifiable debris in the porcelain.  Some of it clings to the side of the bowl.  Some of it floats aimlessly.  So now, instead of “Look what the cat dragged in,” I will, while unzipping my fly, ask no one in particular, “What did the toilet bring in?”  It’s kind of beautiful, really: The toilet, tired of being resigned to always dispose of, has broken from its fetters, and is now a producer of. 

It’s a bit like that old Ben Franklin quote: “When you’re finished changing, you’re finished.”  I’m not finished.  And neither is my toilet.

Toilets, Moustaches, and Other Sexy Topics

Though it’s probably divulging too much, I want to set the scene of my thoughts: Occasionally I blog from the bathroom.  I don’t use it, but I do sit on a closed toilet seat.  Why?  Because it’s sexy.  And my roommate is sleeping and my typing is boisterous. 

Okay, the typing probably wouldn’t disturb her, and Freud might conclude that I’m stuck in the anal phase, but in case you were wondering, yes, yes I do write atop a miracle of modern plumbing.  Take out the shit and it’s just another room.  (Someone tell Andrews McCeel to publish that last bit in their next womanly calendar.)


Just now, before making my way to the toilet, I commuted home from work.  There are all these advertisements up in the subway for Tyler Perry’s new flick, Madea Goes to Jail.  Some smart aleck decided to draw a moustache on Madea’s face. 

Thing is, Madea is ALREADY a man.  It’s one thing to facial hair the New In Town poster’s Renee Zellweger  or the Canon ad’s Maria Sharapova, but Tyler Perry can grow his own.  Way to waste your time with ironic graffiti.  Time to take the magic marker back to the fourth grade, amateur.   


Finally, I never thought I’d find myself writing an obituary, but an important man in my life recently died.  His name was Mr. Coffee and he performed beautifully up until two days ago.  I loved the odors he emitted.  I loved the flirtateous little noises he made that let me know he was working.  Mostly, I loved the jittery feeling I got whenever I was around him. 

Bastard will be missed.

Bastard will be missed.

Charmin Toilet Paper: Insane or Ingenious?

What goes on at Charmin headquarters??  I think I’d like to be part of a meeting in which it is completely normal to say toilet paper over and over again.  I just found out about these 20 free toilets Charmin has in Times Square until the end of the year (two are even handicap accessible).  One blog applauds Charmin for “solving a genuine issue for the neighborhood and its millions of tourists (lack of access to clean, free toilets)…”  Well, yeah, but come January 1st it’s back to waiting in line at Starbuck’s or McDonald’s.  I’m not sure you can call that solving anything. 

But it makes complete sense to me that this experimental marketing comes from the same people who produce provocative commercials like this one: