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I never said I was a plumber.

11 Jan

My toilet has a weird handle: you lift it to flush, and it drops back down and points toward the floor between flushes. It’s been this way since I moved in, and it’s never struck me as particularly odd, but apparently it is.

I know this because pretty much every guest who uses my toilet somehow manages to leave the handle in the lifted position. Honestly, I’m not even sure how they do that or how much time it takes to get it to stay upright, but without fail, whenever someone disappears to the restroom, minutes after they return to the living room, I’ll hear the tell-tale sign of the toilet endlessly refilling. I’ll go drop the handle back into place, then explain the oddities of my plumbing to my visitor.

I share this because we had people over for brunch on New Year’s Day. Many of them hadn’t been to my place before, so rather than brace myself for “handle duty,” I simply took a little Post-It note on it so people would know what to do.

It worked like a charm and a dozen people used my bathroom without leaving it in the upright position. It worked so well, in fact, that I decided to just leave the note there, since on at least one occasion I returned from vacation to find the toilet running because the cat sitter didn’t know the flusher trick.

Alan, apparently, had other ideas. As I was working on my laptop the other night, he came into the living room and stood next to me with a shit-eating grin on his face. He’d cleverly moved the Post-It note to the button on his pants.

IMG_7952

And he accusing me of the being the 12 year old in this relationship? I don’t think so.

 

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Trend-setter. That’s one word for me.

17 Feb

What’s the word for athletic pants where there’s essentially a pantyliner sewn into the crotch so you can wear them without underwear? You know what I’m talking about, right?

Well, whoever invented those should be shot.

I was half-way through yoga yesterday, doubled-over in a forward fold, when I noticed that the seams on my pants looked odd. “Hmmm…” I wondered, “Did I put my pants on inside-out?”

Normally that’s not cause for alarm because I have three pairs of reversible yoga pants. Unfortunately, it turns out this was a different pair, which I confirmed with a quick reach to feel for a tag. I had not only one but two large tags flapping on my butt, announcing “M” for anyone who wanted to check my size.

I sighed and continued my vinyasa, thinking, “Meh – not a big deal.”

It was about ten minutes later, when our instructor told us to put our feet on the outer edge of the mat, then slowly lower into a yogic squat, that I saw the problem. I was in the front row, facing a mirror, and there – winking back at me – was a bright white triangle of cloth between my legs. I quickly lowered my hands from prayer position so I looked more like a catcher to block the cotton blaze from view.

Of course, I also started quietly snickering, finding the situation awkward but also hilarious. It only got worse when the instructor asked us to sit on our mats, extend our feet in the air in front of us, grab the bottom of each foot and open into a seated “V.”

This is what we were supposed to look like:

Image Source: http://www.betterhealthliving.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/boat-pose-yoga.jpg

Which Alan says is comical regardless of your pants.

At this point, I just muttered a, “Oh hell no…” and flopped back on my mat, silently laughing as I watched everyone else go spread-eagle.

While convulsing, I decided that before I wear those pants again, I am going to take a Sharpie and either draw a big smiley face or write “Namaste” in the center of that real estate. That way, I figure at least it would look like I’d deliberately worn them reversed if it happens again – right?

Actually, I think that’s such a great idea that I’m encouraging everyone to go to their drawers and search out any pants with a while cotton liner, and draw a smiley face on them. Because you never know. And trust me – there will be a day when you thank me. Even if it’s just when you crack yourself up every time you tug your pants down to go to the bathroom.

Image Source: http://jezebel.com/5799608/are-you-wearing-pants-this-chart-will-help-you-answer-that-question

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What do cops, donuts, politicians and toilets have in common?

15 Oct

Hint: there are probably many correct answers.

It’s only Tuesday, and already, this happened:

Pretty amazing collection from GBD, you must admit.

Pretty amazing collection from GBD, you must admit. Potentially worth burning for?

Which is not to suggest that donuts are a bad thing, or that I fell off my non-existent diet or something. No. These donuts? Demonstrated my office’s priorities. Let me explain.

Since I work in DC, most of the city – including our building – was shut-down for Columbus Day yesterday. But because my company is in the business of finding people work, we didn’t take the day off.  (Maybe the government could take a page from our book and the economy wouldn’t be in the toilet?)

We showed up to a darkened building, And yet we turned our lights on.

All was cool, until around noon, when the fire alarm went off – at approximately 4,000,000 decibels and accompanied by an eerie robot voice telling us to “leave our belongings and exit the building.”

We all looked at each other, balancing the competing concern of, “Do I really need to put my shoes on and leave my desk right now?” with, “Well, we do work two blocks from the White House, so maybe there really is an emergency requiring evacuation?”

And yet… as we all shuffled out the door, one of my co-workers called back, “Don’t forget the donuts!”

And as if we were moving in slow motion (probably because we were), another co-worker (whose new nickname is, “Hero”), turned around and ran back for that box of delicious pastries.

Because in case you didn’t study that photo closely, two of those mofo’s were covered in bacon. And that is worth dying for.

PRIORITIES. TRUE STORY.

Also, even before that box of donuts was rescued from a false alarm, this happened:

Hint: You're not doing it right.

Hint: You’re not doing it right.

That’s right. I went to the bathroom on a day when almost no one was at work and I found a stall out of commission. Because it was covered not by one toilet liner, but by four, folded in some crazy-ass way and lining each side of the toilet as if it were a pontoon boat. Seriously. It was so messed up I walked back to the office to get my camera to take this photo.

The good news is that later in the day, we FINALLY figured out who the seat pee-er is. I have to give credit to my friend Courtney, whose SpideySense was activated when a pink ballet flat poked into her stall in a way that indicated someone was squatting rather than sitting. Courtney emerged from the stall just as her stall-neighbor finished washing her hands and darted out of the bathroom.

With instincts to rival Sherlock, Courtney investigated the recently evacuated stall… only to find pee on the seat and an unflushed toilet.

CITIZEN’S ARREST.

It hasn’t happened yet, but here’s how that gentle conversation is going to go, now the we all know the culprit works one suite over and wears pink ballet flats:

US: Have you noticed someone keeps peeing on the seat and not cleaning it up?

HER, looking uncomfortable: Yeah – so disgusting!?

US: We’ve narrowed it down and are pretty sure we know who’s doing it.

HER, looking mildly panicked: Who? How do you know?

US: We have our ways. Signs track back to your office, so could you be our ambassador and talk with all the ladies there to let them know we’re close to a breakthrough so they can stop before we have to embarrass them?

HER: Gulp.

US: That’s right.

And – my Columbus Day wouldn’t be complete without a political tie-in of some sort, so then THIS happened as I was commuting:

Look! It's Uncle Joe!

Look! Blurry, but it’s Uncle Joe!

Yep. Hustling down Connecticut Ave on my way to get a massage, I noticed a crowd of people forming outside Brooks Brothers, and a security detail that was impressive yet not full-on presidential.

I stopped to ask an on-looker who they were waiting to see emerge from the store, and just at that moment, the police cleared the sidewalk, a few Secret Service guys came out of the store looking stern and self-important, and then out came Joe Biden, huge grin and no shopping bag.

He waved and smiled and – instead of making a beeline for his car (as I would do if my shopping spree had proven unsuccessful) he took a minute to shake hands and chat with the onlookers.

Whew. It was quite the day: Donuts, police… Toilets, politicians… Who would imagine seeing all these disparate things in just one day? It’s almost like they go together.

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I suspect this will get lost in the retelling…

15 Mar

…but I’m not going to let that stop me.

I’ve had “War Horse” in the Netflix queue for some time. It arrived last weekend, but Alan had already seen it (because he’s seen everything) so I saved it to watch on my own. “You’ll love it,” Alan promised.

Alas, halfway in, I wasn’t loving it. So I paused it and hopped on Facebook:

Image Source: © 2013 pithypants

Then, feeling feisty, I updated my profile photo so that anyone looking for me (but mainly Alan) would see this photo:

Image Source: http://www.kulfoto.com/funny-pictures/18025/war-horse

That somehow set off a pun contest among my friends, resulting in the following comments:

Poor thing…saddled with the traumatic memories of war…

Fortunately, his unbridled passion for freedom fighting got him through the worst of it.

The Secretariat of Defense issued this brave beast a Medal of Honor

Sometimes, you need to jockey for position at the front lines.

A recent Gallop poll shows that most Americans are not in favor of this war.

In these situations, it’s best to harness your rage as best you can

Agreed. Unbridled rage is absolutely the wrong reaction.

He’s really feeling his oats here.

The rest of his platoon really needs to pony up and help this guy.

He doesn’t look very stable in this pic.

He might shoot the wrong guy and stirrup a ton of controversy.

Sorry I can’t hang around and watch your wittiness unfold, guys. I’ve gotta giddy-up early in the morning.

OK, now i’m stopping.

Please, before we start trotting out even worse …

Time to hit the hay

Please make me stop

Consider yourself corralled.

Dang it! I just herd there were horse puns here. Looks like I missed the mane event. 

Okay, just one, even though the horse is out of the barn already. 

I bet he loves the smell of neigh-palm in the morning.

And then my sister showed up, skipped all the puns and asked, “But the image?? What IS that?”

Alan patiently explained, “You might surmise from the random spray of gunfire, but in fact she just meh’d a movie recommendation of mine. Demonstrably.”

Which then brought a previous commenter back out of the woodwork:

Wait. You mean she was a neigh-sayer?

Oh, and in response to my new profile photo, Alan changed his to this:

Image Source: memegenerator.net

Who says social media hasn’t improved thoughtful discourse?

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Quick: where can I buy a burkini?

10 Mar

I made a horrible mistake: I was at the store last week and decided to try on a swimsuit. GASP. The horror.

I usually don’t spend a lot of time obsessing over my body. As long as it’s strong and doesn’t prevent me from doing something, I’m generally happy with it. I’ve never, actually, been on a diet of any kind in my life. Which might explain how I ended up accidentally ended up piling on the Freshman 30 (that’s a thing, right?) at MSU without realizing it.

And yet, there I was, viewing myself in the three-way mirror, realizing that the bikini bottoms looked more like the twist that separates sausage links than simply something simply covering my butt crack. It served to bisect my body, allowing the top half to pile up on the lower half.

And now I’ve just booked a ticket to visit my aunt in Florida in three weeks. Which means some drastic action is required.

No, not a diet. BE REAL.

Does anyone know where Nigella Lawson purchased this little number?

Image Source: http://www.beachbelievers.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/burkini2.jpg

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