Last weekend I took a trip up to the Finger Lakes in New York to hang out with my aunt and uncle, check out some wineries, and generally get so drunk that you could wring out my liver and make 100 proof liquor.
Lucky for me I saw a shooting star that night, and that shooting star was a planetoid-sized piece of frozen space-dookie that the universe had chosen to hurl at me for some unknown reason coughhumpingcorpsescough.
Mokie and his Imported Wife of Dubious Origin left at about 6 pm and would arrive to the house in New York well before we would. ACWF and I left at about 8:30 on Thursday night, not exactly relishing the 6 hour drive, but happy to be able to take some time to relax over the weekend. I was also happy to be able to stop every hour or so and sample various types of mystery jerky from grimy buckets near the cash registers at off-brand gas stations with names like Minit Stop, Kwik Fill, and in the German section of Pennsylvania, Gasstoppo.
After a few hours of driving we found ourselves cruising through that rural section of Pennsylvania where the porn stores outnumber the roadkill (that would be every section of rural Pennsylvania. Take that you Amish bastards.) and that’s when the cop decided to pull me over. This won’t be one of those blog posts where there’s a whole bunch of bitching, and conniving, and trying to explain why the cop was a donut-sucking pig-fucker cut from the same cloth as the sodomizing blue-meanie in Pulp Fiction. I was speeding, and I deserved a ticket, and I was thankful that he knocked the charge down. I’m not going to relish paying it, but the man was just doing his job.*
We got to the house at about 2 am, and were ready to turn in. 300 miles of asphalt under your ass tends to have that effect. Unless you’re into that sort of thing, then I guess you would pretty much be ready to walk off your six-hour erection. It was freezing outside so we piled on the blankets in the bedroom and went to sleep.
Sometime around 7 am on Friday the power went out. This wasn’t such a big deal because the house was still warm, and because we could put our food outside in the 20 degree chill. The problem was that the water for the house was pumped in from a well, and the pump was electric. So we had no heat, and no water, but we had lots of beer, and a giant freezer outside keeping the beer cold.
Eight hours later we were drunk, the house was colder, and the toilets were so filled with horrible concentrations of human excretions (poo-poo and wee-wee for those of you too lazy to get a thesaurus) that the downstairs toilet’s water had been crested by the fin of the “great brown toilet shark”. We knew we had to do something, so we took all of our drinking water and dumped it into the toilet tanks in order to flush them. It was hard to say whether the solid waste poking out from a sea of urine was better or worse than the thick and soupy leavings that resulted. (Oh, if you’re eating lunch right now, you should probably skip that last paragraph.)
At about 7:30 pm we called the power company and were told that the power would come back on by 8 that night. We were overjoyed, and kept on drinking.
8 pm came and went. 9 pm came and went. At 10 pm we all went to bed, drunk, cold, and not looking forward to facing the toilets in a pitch-black bathroom in the middle of the night.
We woke up the next morning, all hoping that the power would be back on. A quick check of the breath condensing in front of our faces revealed that the temperature inside the house was at or below 45 degrees. We weren’t sure because the thermometer inside the house only went down to 45.
So I called the Motel 6 in nearby Ithaca, and they agreed to forcibly insert their 40 dollar full-day room rate charge into our tender little chocolate-starfish wallets (that was an odd metaphor), just so we could have the pleasure of showering. Lucky for us, it started to snow when we were driving to Ithaca and just as we were about to arrive in downtown Ithaca, Mokie’s car went into a skid…
Part 2 at some point.
*And I bet as soon as he was done writing me a ticket he went back to his barn to let a cow “milk” him while he smoked confiscated crystal meth and ate a dozen donuts while watching WWII era propaganda films.
“Gasstoppo” is fucking priceless. I’m walking around the office to tell random co-workers. :)
BTW, I wrote about poop today too. Yeah!!!
uhm ew… really really ew.
So the poop concoction in the toilets didn’t freeze?
Used Hack- It came to me out of nowhere as I was typing. I was pretty surprised myself. (Yeah poop!)
Wendykat- Hey, we were in a tough situation, and we did what we could to survive.
KC- Nah, it was still warm enough inside the house that it didn’t get it down to freezing temperatures. That would have been a nightmare.
Gasstoppo. I love it.
You need to quit your job today and begin a new career in stand-up. The people have spoken.
Jess- Ha ha ha! Thanks, but I’ll stick to blogging. The pay is too good.
I personally enjoyed the great brown toilet shark reference. That was a great visual…
Oh, and I’m glad you’re not dead. Because then you’d have to hump…yourself…
MIL- Really? You ENJOYED the visual? To be honest, even I was a little disgusted with it. Also, humping myself would put me in an awkward situation.
how great it is that i just finished reading used hack’s shit-post to move on to your full-toilet post.
i’d love to tell my office-mates about gasstoppo, but i’m afraid of pissing off the german lady on the other side of my cube. i swear she has a bayonet stashed under her desk.
Mmmmm, solid waste.
did you crash and die?
i bet you crashed and died.
and then became a poop eating zombie.
you would totally do it, and just for the blogging opportunities.
That would be so cool… “Anonymous Zombie: Blogging from the other side.”
The only drawback would be that every post would be titled “Brains… Delicious brains…” and would be about… you know… eating brains.
Oh man ACW that is it, I am adding you to my list too
*people who’s murders I am secretly plotting*
oh, I guess it is publicly plotting now though…
Jam
Rach- You’ve got to watch out for Germans. You never know when they’re going to flip out and go all Third Reich on your ass. Crazy German bastards.
DL- Okay, now I’m really starting to feel a little wierd, and that’s hard to do.
Kendra- I did! I’m so dead right now, I have no idea what’s going on. (And no I wouldn’t, not even for the blogging opportunities.)
CW- THe only way my posts would be about “brains… delicious brains” would be if I turned into one of those shitty, knock-off, “Return of the living dead” zombies. If I come back as a zombie, I’m coming back as a cold, unfeeling, slowly shuffling, decaying piece of unstoppable doom, like a good George Romero zombie.
TDDI- What? What did I do? (It was the poop, wasn’t it?)
Apparantly you’re coming back as a zombie snob.
Seriously? Do yourself a huge favor and check this out: http://tinyurl.com/nrm2m
Best. Zombie. Comic. Ever. I shit you not. I don’t joke about comics. (because I’m a huge dork.) Not only is it an awesome tale in the “Romero-zombie” style but it’s also a steal at the price amazon is offering.
CW- Psychophil posted about this series a while ago, and I read the first chapter of the first book, or something like that, online. Friggin’ awesome. It’s been on my wishlist ever since.
sorry acw, if you’re planning to be a zombie blogger (and sorry about the death thing, too) but this zombie is already filling that niche….. hmmm… actually, it’s been a while since he posted- maybe he’s re-un-dead now…?
okay! go for it!
Could really have done without the graphic toilet discriptions!! *vomits*
Heh loved that bit about “oh if you’re eating….”. Written as I’d say it…hope you lived through the crash?
Pure reading enjoyment:
…”the fin of the “great brown toilet shark”…
You had me at FIN.
Ah, Pennsylvania. I love it here. Was the stretch of road where you were speeding by any chance Routes 11/15 between Harrisburg and Selinsgrove? That is the second most godforsaken place (second because there’s always SOMETHING worse) and is littered with porn shops and gentlemen’s clubs. Niiiiice. I’m sure you were tempted to stop at a few on your way. (While I wouldn’t begrudge you that type of enjoyment, I would have to guess you wouldn’t want to step foot in such a crusty-ass establishment as most of those.)
I can’t wait for the continuation of the drunken freezing clogged-up poo-filled toilet using car accident on the way to the hotel for a shower story.
It was a Super 8, dumb dumb.
Lorider- Wow, he really hasn’t blogged in some time.
Steph- I do what I can.
BJ- Alas, we did not live through the crash.
NM- Glad to be of service.
Rusty- That’s exactly where we were. Ha ha!
Mokie- Lick my balls.