Manic Monday: Honey, I Cleaned The Toilets.

imagesI hope my wife is happy.  Why?  Because I cleaned the toilet. Not entirely but the most important spot, the bowl. Before you die in consternation wondering what’s the deal about  cleaning the throne, let me explain.

I have this thing about seeing shit stains in the toilet when I stand to tinkle.  You know those stubborn stains that no matter how you try to flush them they never disappear? They loiter around the bowl like zits on a teenager’s face.  Well I hate them. They irk me.  They are my pet peeve.  So when I pee, I used my tinkle like a fireman’s hose and hose it all off.  Shit stains be gone!

I usually walk out of that washroom as proud as a peacock, after admiring my handiwork before I exit. It’s so easy.  Men, if you are like me and hate seeing your porcelain throne desecrated, use what God gave you and give it a good hosing down.  Wave goodbye to those shitbits.

Last night I went to use the washroom and saw some remnants of the last worshipper’s visit. No problem, I’ll take care of that.  I aimed my stream directly on the stains.  Close to the rim, along the top, everywhere.  Before my bladder was completely empty, not a stain remained.  Success!  Now my wife would/should be very happy.

Sometimes if I’m in a good mood, I’ll even put my hose to good use at public washrooms. It’s not always a success story in those places as the stains are more than just stubborn, they are clingy, they are dogged. They are determined to stay put and there are lots of them!  Ever heard the saying there’s strength in numbers?

If I’m ever at your house and you noticed your toilet bowl is spotless when I leave, thank me later.  Just using my hose, ma’am.

Disclaimer: the above does not work on underwater stains.


Filling My Ass!


Oatmeal (Photo credit: desegura89)


Oatmeal is great as a breakfast choice as it’s very filling and makes you not feel hungry for  the better part of the morning.  Yeah right! Filling my ass! (And you thought the topic meant something else. Boo!).


I have been on this ‘eat oatmeal porridge every morning’ kick for some time now.  There must be something wrong with me because the ‘filling’ part of it is missing.  Or maybe I need to add a few pieces of toasts, couple slices of bacon, because bacon goes great with everything, and maybe some sausages and an egg or two.  Then it would be filling for sure.  After my first bowl, I am usually still hungry and the ‘filling’ doesn’t kick it  until after the third bowl.  In the time it takes to make three bowls, I could have had a real man’s breakfast.


So claim debunked.  It’s a myth.  Oatmeal is not really filling, unless you are an ant.



Honey, what’s that noise?

“Honey, what’s that noise?” My wife’s words would interrupt my dreams and bring me from the depths of sleep, unwillingly.  I faintly hear a sound of something as my sense of hearing is not yet re-adjusted and tuned to my worldly surroundings.  “Hmm…I dunno”. I replied groggily.  Laying it on a bit in the hopes that she would recognize that I was in a deep sleep and let me continue from where I left off.  It was not to be.

“What is it, Babes?”  She asked.  Well, we are both lying in bed, I was way off in la la land frolicking with Jessica Biel and Jessica Alba until you rudely woke me up.  How would I know what was making that sound?  Maybe it was a cat but since we don’t have a cat, I will say the dog.  Come to think of it, we don’t own a dog so let’s go with ghost. Yes, a ghost.  Our house is haunted!  Wait, not so fast.  I haven’t explored all options yet.  Maybe it was a precariously balanced object succumbing to gravity.  I like that one as it exercised my vocabulary and made me sound smart.  But honey, I have not clue what it is.

“Can you go check?”  Again she persists.  “Hell no!  I am not going down there to face who or whatever made that noise!”  I declared.  “Well you are the man of the house! You should.”  Gosh, if I knew that being a man came with all these responsibilities I would have been a girl.  “Fine!  I’ll go check.  You stay here under your comfy covers!”  Armed to the teeth with a shoe and broom, she tiptoed out of the bedroom and that’s the last time I saw my wife.  Just kidding, it’s not a fairy tale, this is true stuff.

So off she went to confront the noise-maker and rude-waker-upper.  Two minutes later, she was back.  Shoe uncocked and unloaded, broom re-sheathed. “What was it?”  I ventured to ask.  “Oh nothing.  Just the furnace.”

I closed my eyes and tried to summon up the Jessicas again.  Come back girls! Daddy’s back.  Now where were we?

The joys of being man…