Potty Humor

We have been kind of short on excitement around here so please bear with me as I share another special story, you may want to grab a box of napkins, and prepare yourself for warm fuzzies. If you find my stories boring or offensive please feel free to discontinue reading as I only write them for my personal gratification, and that of those who truly understand me.

The story I have chosen to share today is called:

THE OUTHOUSE

As many of you know I have the great misfortune of working in construction, and if anyone amongst you has ever worked in construction then you know that the job site rest facilities are not as elegant as that of an office building, or any other building for that matter.

These facilities usually consist of a simple porta potty made of moulded plastic panels riveted together, typically containing a urinal(with non consumable deodorizing mint), a non flushing toilet full of some blue liquid, one ply toilet paper dispenser(sometimes empty), and in the best of conditions a liquid hand sanitizer dispenser with apple scented sanitizer.

Naturally such a facility is vulnerable to any number of missuses, for example some users choose to tag the walls with graffiti, after all nothing says bad ass gangsta like a tag on an outhouse wall. Others write poems on the walls, some burn holes in the door with a lighter, I have seen where someone has had a blowout all over the seat (not pretty). Sometimes someone will put brown colored construction adhesive on the seat and it looks just like a turd, and everyone thinks its a real turd because it usually is. The list goes on and on, I too am guilty of mistreating the facilities as well, I like to throw rocks at it when someone enters, or shake it, or lock someone inside, especially someone I don't know.

Another thing that should be noted about porta pottys is that they should only be used as a last resort, meaning that if you can hold it, it would be in your best interest to do so. Any and all actions should be taken to avoid their use.

Well this particular experience occurred on a fateful day in March a few years back. I had been working on a house all day doing finish work, around 3:00 I realized that I had the immediate need to use the outhouse. Now without being too specific, when I use the word immediate what I mean to say is that if I did not find a porta potty within one minute I would have an immediate need to change my britches:-)

Off I went to use the nearest outhouse, luckily there was one directly across the street placed there specifically for our use. I carefully walked across the street with butt cheeks clenched. Ohhh.... I mean bum cheeks, sorry about the crude language. I quickly swung open the door, locked it behind me and opened the toilet seat, that's when I saw them.....two disgusting turds on the seat. How frustrating, what kind of a person would do this? Well at this point I had two choices I could either clean off the seat and promptly relieve myself, or go off in search of another facility. The choice was an easy one, I would run down the street to a house we had previously worked on and use their out house. It would be a close call but I had to do it I had no other choice.

The pressure was increasing with every passing second but I had to make it to the next house. As I rounded the corner there it was, standing there in all its glory , I had never been so happy to see that big orange shack as in that very moment. But wait, something was wrong, very wrong there was a group of people standing outside just feet away from the outhouse having a long conversation. There was no way on earth I was going to enter that thing with a group standing within hearing range, I knew those people, even worked for one of them, and the last thing I want them to be hearing is the sound of me in the porta potty, it could get noisy. I waited for a few seconds to see if they were leaving......no dice, there was no obvious sign of them leaving anytime soon.

I quickly turned around and headed back, I could take the truck to the gas station, no that's no good I would never make it. So I made the only logical decision, I would return to the first out house and clean off the toilet seat with a huge ball of toilet paper, and line the seat with more TP to avoid any possible contact with the foreign feces. As I neared the potty I new it was my only shot, time was ticking and I couldn't hold out much longer.

I entered the facility, locked the door and hesitantly (but quickly) grabbed a giant sized wad of TP reached out to clean it up. How humiliating and disgusting was this, I had to clean up some strangers excrement off of the toilet seat. My dry heaves nearly prevented me from doing anything, but I had to do it or face even more humiliating circumstances.

This was it, possibly the lowest point of my life. I stretched my hand out and very cautiously attempted to wipe off the offending material. It wasn't moving by normal means of cleanup, it was stuck, what had that person been eating? This made my dry heaves even more violent. I grabbed another larger ball of paper to prepare for a dirtier job and once again I attempted to wipe of the excrement. It wouldn't budge, I tried harder, and still it would not move, what was I going to do? At the moment when all seemed hopeless I quickly undid my pants, turned around and sat down right in the nick of time.

Well the two of you who read my blog know that I would never sit down on another persons feces, not under any circumstance, so why would that day be different? Two weeks earlier I was using some adhesive on a stair rail, this particular tube of adhesive had a color that looked just like real human waste. We thought it would be funny to squirt some on the toilet seat so others would think it was the real thing and be grossed out. I guess the joke was on me.

I learned a some valuable lessons from this experience. First if you need to go that bad, drive home. Second, adhesive, once stuck to plastic is nearly impossible to remove. And third, if you are going to be a jokester at least remember the tricks you try to pull on people because they may backfire.

Airplanes

A few weeks ago we took the kids to the Hill Air Museam, here are a few pics.
Aiden and Chaz standing in front of a Wright brothers plane replica.

Atom Bomb

All of the old school aircraft

The kids got to try out the flight simulator, who says video games arent usefull.

Me and Chaz checking out the helecopter.

That plane has a mouth

That is one big tire!



Inside a helicopter

Happy Birthday Dad

Last Sunday was my Dads Birthday so we went down to visit and celebrate. I forgot to bring my camera so I only have a couple pics that Laura took. When I say couple I literally mean a couple. (two)


Last year while hiking in Moab we noticed that my Dad walks on the sides of his feet so all the Brothers and Sisters pitched in and got Dad some sweet Keen boots.

Amanda made some delicious pizza, and chocolate mint cupcakes. We also came over and made breakfast. This is me making syrup.


Since we are on the subject of my Dad I thought it would be appropriate to share a heart touching, life changing, tear jerking, spine tingling, warm fuzzy short story about him.

This story will simply be called;

"THE BROOM"

There are many useful and practical things that can be done with a broom. For example one may use a broom to sweep the kitchen floor, or sidewalk, or you can use it to sweep your carpets at 4:30 AM when your house guests are trying to sleep(that's what my grandma did). A broom can be used to remove cob webs from the ceiling, or to shew away a dog or small animal from your house. It can also be used to inflict punishment upon misbehaving children, which is exactly what happens, or nearly happens in the following story.

I believe I was around the age of 15, it was in the mid 90's a time when flannel shirts, and Nirvana music was the latest craze. My Mom, Dad, and I were sitting in the living room one Saturday afternoon engaged in some sort of argument, now I don't remember the exact content of the dispute, but I am quite sure that I was in the wrong (as are most teenagers who oppose their parents).

If you ever have found yourself in a dispute with your parents you may have noticed that the kind and gentle ways of your mother makes her an easy target for arguing, so as the conflict continued I focused my efforts to my dear Mother, which turned out to be a mistake. My Father is not typically easy to anger, but there is one thing guaranteed to cause instant rage, if anyone says or does anything disrespectful to my Mom the gates of Hell open wide and all the wrath of my Father is unleashed on the offender. It just so happened that in this case I was the offender.

I cant remember exactly what hurtful thing was said, but one thing was as clear day; my Dad was mad! Seeing that I had infuriated my Father my efforts quickly switched to something much more important, Survival! I quickly sprang to my feet narrowly escaping my Fathers grasp. Running about 45 miles per hour I hurdled the stairs and proceeded down the hallway toward my bedroom.

As I ran down the hall I wondered why my Dad had not pursued me, he was very quick and was typically one step behind me. Then as time slowed down I heard a strange noise, it was the same noise you hear when an arrow is shot from a bow. There was no time to investigate the sound. I continued running, the sound grew louder and louder, something was heading straight toward me, It was like one of those dreams when something is chasing you and you can only run in slow motion. As I rounded the corner to my bedroom I felt something graze my side in an instant I looked back and saw a broom strike the wall behind me. It struck with such force that the broomstick went completely through the wall and into the bathroom so that all that could be seen was the head of the broom sticking out of the wall (thank goodness no one was using the toilet).

While I was fleeing the scene rather that chase me down, a broom somehow magically appeared in my Dads hand, and in that moment it was no longer a broom, it was a deadly weapon, set to kill its target. Now there is no doubt whatsoever that if that broomstick would have hit me it would have instantly killed me. After seeing what had been done my Fathers heart was somehow softened and he did not chase me down and give me a much deserved beating.

The broom left a perfectly round hole in both sides of the wall which made it kind of awkward when using the toilet. My Dad later patched the hole.

I have since then become very suspicious, and wary of my Father, he must have received some kind of secret training in the Army or somewhere. He is a human killing machine.

Winter Fun

This winter has not been a good one, its cold and there is hardly any snow on the ground, as you will see in some of the pics we get desperate for entertainment of any sort.

Me and the kids playing with a bunch of wood scraps that I got for fire wood, Aiden wanted to build a temple so I decided to construct one modeled after the ancient Mayan architecture, you know like a pyramid.

Well after building the temple the next step is to make it bigger, and test its strength, and what better way to test it than with small children.

It didn't seem to be breaking so we tripled the weight.

This pic is also of a game I came up with called Extreme Piggy back ride, where you see how many people can climb on your back until your legs give out my max is 5.

Still standing, I wanted to drive my 4 wheeler on top for the next test but we just had the carpets cleaned and of course my clean freak wife didn't want tire marks on her freshly cleaned carpets.

The next morning we woke up to .065" of freshly fallen snow so we went to play before it melted away.

Aiden being dragged behind the 4 wheeler. It was really funny to watch him wipe out.

Even Laura tried it out.

Me and Chaz, Laura drug us through a drainage pond lined with gravel which didn't feel good on the ol rear end.

Later that day we went bowling at the miracle bowl in Orem.

Laura in her lucky zebra shirt she wears only when bowling, it gives her zebra powers.

Yesss! double turkey.

Charly girl had to use the automatic ball acceleration apparatus. That's a funny name I would have just called it a ball launcher.

Funny story concerning the ball launcher, sometimes when it was Chards turn I would grab an extra ball and roll it just after she would roll hers increasing the odds of a strike. Well it just so happened that the machine malfunctioned at that very moment (which I believe was due to a separate an non related issue perhaps caused by a sticking gas pedal or a software problem) nevertheless, the lady working there happened to see the incident and reprimanded me for double rolling even though I was clearly free from any guilt or wrongdoing. Well I learned a valuable lesson from this lady, that is that older, slightly overweight women do not look good in extremely short bleached denim mini skirts. In fact no women looks good in a denim mini skirt, Didn't they stop making those in the 80's?