before …
after …
much better, eh?
now to paint the bedrooms. but at least i can have people over now, since i won’t have to hand them a shovel and point them towards the backyard when nature calls.
indoor plumbing … so 19th century. christ, the romans had indoor plumbing. here i am living in the post-industrial age of high technology without a commode.
white, i’m back, baby! i’m back!
Tags: southdowns10 Comments
10 responses so far ↓
hurricane shmurricane. i was more concerned about your shitter. welcome back, buddy. welcome back.
Why would you ever get rid of those rubber tub butterflies!
Kev – I’ve been keeping up with your blog at home, but for some sorry reason my little laptop won’t let me post a comment. So now I am on the clock at work, but I just want to thank you for keeping us posted through Gustav. Having lived on the west coast of F-L-A for most of my life, I remember hurricanes mainly as wet, gray, windy days that we didn’t have to go to school. Tampa is situated so that we mostly just got the bands of storms that wreaked havoc elsewhere. One storm in particular, I remember putting on roller skates and going to the bottom of the hill in front of my house with an umbrella – the wind pulled me all the way up to the top of the hill! What fun! Yeah – that was Hurricane Andrew that skimmed by us on its way to Louisiana after destroying Homestead in Southern Fla. Something like 65 fatalities. Whee! Yup. As you grow up and start to understand their destructive power, “hurricane parties” seem to lose their charm. So glad that you and Lefty and your cute little house stood strong. I can’t believe the monster headed for Texas at the moment. Sweet bejeebus.
Take care of you. Enjoy your joyful mint green shitter!
thx, white. all i gotta do know is replace the shut off valve on the cold water pipe (i’m not kidding). then, it’ll be done. don’t ask.
mar, the image of lil’ old you being pulled by a hurricane up the hill on roller skates in your young sweetness (have you met my friend prepositional phrase?) is a a vision as cute as i can imagine. we’re getting the wind now from ike, and ike’s fittin’ to slap texas around like it’s tina turner. that’s a big ole storm. lots of mojo blowing up down here … hope some of the good stuff lands on me, specifically, on my face. (god that is so tacky but i couldn’t help writing it … my apologies, i can’t help myself.)
chicago mel, i should have saved them for you. on second thought, they were rancid and discusting, so that would have been a lame gesture. and likely unhealthy. n.a.s.t.y.
Love the new crapper Kev!
white, i almost hate to ask, but i’d like to take up a little more space than usual on your blog to elaborate on the subject at hand if that’s okay? what i’m trying to say is there’s a fine line between MAN and the disgusting, filthy creatures we share the rest of our planet with (i.e. the animals.) some people will try to get all fucking philosophical on you about what those differences might be. but the simple truth is this: what separates man from beast is the fact that MAN shits indoors. all other variables (opposable thumbs, being able to bone in the missionary position, blah blah blah) are up for debate. if you don’t have an indoor shitter then you’re amongst the ranks of the putrid animal kingdom. what if you live in one of those poor countries without water? well, bottom line: if you have to shit outside then you aren’t human. that doesn’t mean i don’t feel sorry for you, i do, because i live in America, and i’m proud to identify myself as someone that empties their bowels indoors. so white, just think about this: every time you flush that new commode, you’re a part of something much greater than yourself. at that moment in time when you send that sewer trout on it’s rosy way, you’re much more than just some guy sitting on a piece of porcelain in the middle of a swamp, you’re a human being and you’re an American. be proud man, be proud. (p.s. i’m a little drunk right now.)
i am a human being, and i am an american, and i am a drummer, and i am a beatle! (wait, that last one is ringo starr). i’d like to thank you, white, for bringing philosophy back to the men’s room where it belongs. your gift is this; this is your gift.
jay o o jay. new crapper is here to stay. hey hey o jay. come on baby let’s crap all day.