HAVING A SIT DOWN
I Am Your Toilet, and I Just Want to Say That the Things You People Do to Me Are Unspeakable
Seriously, there’s just assholes everywhere I look
Where do I start? How about with that damn toilet brush thing! I know it sort of looks like a tooth brush, but I promise you it isn’t. These are not at all like the extra gentle, massaging, super soft bristles that you put in your mouth, okay? The bristles on this thing are like barbed wire. And you go to town with it like you’re ripping away at seared-on grill gunk or chopping at three inch thick subzero overnight ice on your windshield.
Look, no one knows better than me that your diet could be better, but it’s a stone cold fact that no stain that you’re capable of producing demands anywhere near that level of scrubbing tenacity. It hurts! How would you like it if I hacked away at your face like that? I mean, you cry like a baby if you’re touched by soap that’s not certified organic, precisely pH balanced and — at a minimum — one quarter cleansing cream. As if anyone knows what that means.
Speaking of cleaning things — how about that Ultra-Thick Cling-On Cleaning Gel With Bleach? And the way you squirt it way, way up into my rim! If I didn’t know better I would think that you were ruthlessly targeting that sensitive area specifically. Dude, what is the matter with you? It’s bleach! Do you know what the pH of bleach is? Neither do I, but it sure can’t be good for my china doll white porcelain skin. It burns.
Look, just for the record, the pee and poop part? I don’t mind that. It’s what I was born to do. But attacking me with all these ancillary chemicals and devices, it’s inhuman! As opposed to the other stuff, which is… outta human. Hah! Just a little toilet humor there. I know, not everyone appreciates toilet humor. What, because I’m a toilet, my humor is not good enough for you? I find that a bit on the elitist side, don’t you?
That reminds me — don’t get me started on the hurtful name calling and the insults. I mean, if something is really bad, what do you all say? “It’s in the toilet.” Seems to me that putting something in the toilet would be quite an impressive measure of success. I mean, mission accomplished, amirite? You all certainly seem relieved. So why does like, the flagpole get all the good expressions? And the wall? What did those guys ever do that’s helpful? Like why can’t you say, “let’s flush it down the toilet and see if anyone salutes?” or “let’s throw it in the toilet and see if it sticks.” These seem like perfectly reasonable expressions to me.
This is fun. Cathartic actually. So what’s next? I know, toilet paper! Thanks for naming it after me, I guess? But, fact is, it’s really more for you, right? Not calling it ass paper seems like a bit of a missed opportunity. “Cottony Soft Ass Paper” — the ad campaign pretty much writes itself!
But, hey, tomato, tomahto. Whatever you call the stuff, you tear it off in massive, bizarrely ambitious handfuls, and you wipe, drop, wipe, drop, wipe, drop. Again and again! Mounds and mounds of it! Before you know it, there’s a big, uh, log jam, that is much wider than anything that’s gonna make it down my poor gullet, and it’s choke city. I mean, hello! Physics calling, line one!
So what do you do? You go at my throat with that rubber suction thingy. Look, did you ever eat or drink something bad and you have to stick your fingers down your throat to make yourself throw up? Pretty uncomfortable, right? So this is like that, except instead of a teeny tiny little people finger it’s a giant hard rubber clamp that seals over your mouth like that head-wrapping Alien monster and feels like it’s sucking your guts right out through your face. How about if I do that to you the next time you’ve got your head down here puking up those three weepy gin and tonics? See how you like it.
Then there’s that seat thing you put on me. You might not realize it, but it’s heavy. Imagine someone standing on your face all day. And for some reason they put those four pressure point things on it so those edges eat into my lips all day and all night. Not to mention the constant up, down, up, down, up, down, slamming that seat right down on my face every time. It hurts. I mean, I know the seat has to be put down sometimes, but when you do it, please, do it gently.
And the rest of the time, just leave the damn thing up, would you?
