One a day...like an apple but better!: juillet 2009

Two true Stories...about caca.

You know when you hear those stories of someone complaining that the housekeeper has stolen the silver...(this hasn't happened to me as I have neither housekeeper or silver)? Well, A friend told me that he went to a dinner party and took a huge shit in the guest toilet...and it wouldn't flush, It just sat there plugged in the bottom. He started to panic, didn't know what to do . Left the bathroom and found himself in the next room, the kitchen - and started looking frantically for a solution. He found a silver butter knife. Took it back into the bathroom and starting cutting away at his loaf of a creation. Finally he gets it into enough pieces that it flushes. BUT...he has his hosts silver butter knife covered in shit. I guess it took only a split second to make the choice to throw the knife away. Some dude's grandmothers silver butter knife meets its end wrapped in toilet paper, covered in shit, hidden in the bottom of a garbage bag. sad.

Another time....

I, yes - This is my story - had a friend visiting for a week in in Malta. Mick, As I will call him, was given the guest bedroom with his own private bathroom.
The first morning I wanted to make sure my guest, dear Mick, had slept well and went to his door a knock'in. He was just finishing his morning toilette. He opened the door for me and told me he slept every well. Not thinking anything of it, I entered and proceeded to tell him where he could put his clothes...what was in the armoires and started walking towards the Bathroom. Rick...Nick, I mean Mick, started to panic. I could see it in his face. I wanted to explain something about the shower, (it was a terribly house old in Malta) and continued to move towards the bathroom. Mick dashes into the toilette, shuts the door - 2 seconds later, opens the door and walks out and says nothing.....curious I ask him what he has done and again he says nothing. Just smiles like a guy who has just throw a silver butter knife in the garbage. I go into the bathroom, explain how to close the shower door latch and leave.

We met downstairs twenty minutes later on the terrace for breakfast.

5 years later, Mick tells me what happened. He took a shit so big that it just sat blocked in the bottom of the toilet. He was thinking about a solution for a split second when I knocked on the door. Thinking he had more time he pannicked when I approached the bathroom. Dashed in, Grabbed the loaf with toilet paper (to be disputed) and threw it out the window into the neighbouring yard. Its funny what a split second does.

No wonder I had problems with the neighbours.

Anyways....

And then this morning...those crazy guys a boingboing posted this little gem.