if it's yellow...

"I'm practically showing ass crack with my in depth assessment of the situation and he's like 'I plunge, yes?'" - text message sent regarding the toilet that clearly, hates me.

A few months ago my toilet decided that it was tired of being taken for granted. It channeled the attitude of a hormonal 16yr old girl with a love for all things glitter, and pitched a motha-effin-fit. This was the third time I'd had "issues" with the toilet, so calls to the landlord started out relatively calm "Oh hi. I seem to have a hehehe plug in my toilet or something and I can't unplug it and I don't know... could you please come check it out?" and then degenerated into progressively more panicked voicemails "IT'S BEEN A WEEK OF NO TOILET. PLEEEEEASE FIX THIS TODAY. NOT TOMORROW. TODAY!"

I spent my evenings planning out bathroom trips. Before I left work I'd take a trip to the ladies room regardless of whether or not I actually felt the "urge". It felt like I was 4yrs old and leaving on a 13hr road trip with no potty breaks in between. Every. Single. Night.

I literally spent hours plunging and snaking the thing. I poured enough chemicals down there to burn the hide off a big, angry Rhino and still, nothing. Finally Desmond, the Jamaican repairman who I swear smoked a bong right before tapping on my door, showed up. He stared at my dinner and made hungry faces, but since I was angry, I was all "No, no seafood burrito for you, Mon." After about twenty minutes of pounding, plunging and creating a foul toxic mess, he ripped the thing out of the floor and wall only to disappear for the remainder of the weekend. At this point I was ready to burn the building down and call it even.

Understandably, I began to panic when the toilet started acting up again this past weekend when the flushage was increased x2 due to the presence of a houseguest. I scolded Jane, demanding an inventory of the last three days of her bowel movements and asked really polite questions like "WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN EATING?!" I explained that Toilet was a whiny little priss incapable of handling more than the lightest of loads (pun intended). Thankfully, in spite of my mad skills at hosting, Jane and I are still friends. Toilet on the other hand had better clean up its act. Because I've got a bottle of liquid plumber and I will not hesitate to use it.