Lessons in Flushing


Let’s face it. Some bathroom jobs require more than one flush.

In fact, repeat flushing is probably twice as likely when male waste is involved.

Multiple flushes are often a way of life.

As you already know, and just like replacing the empty roll of toilet paper, “Ain’t nobody (but mom) got time for that!”

So, to make things run more efficiently in bathrooms everywhere and to prevent from grossing out everyone in your household with your shitty presents, I’ve come up with fun activities to engage in while waiting for the tank to refill… so you can flush AGAIN.

And again if necessary.

You know… that long drawn out 90 seconds or so that seems like an eternity.


The list-

*Wipe down the faucet. There’s almost always spittle, dribble and/or ick on the faucet… which is most likely yours.

*Sing a verse from… “Another one bites the dust” as you intently watch the turd-subject make it’s final swirly lap.

*If there’s more than one turd, bet on which one will go down first.

*Use dental floss to weed the garden between your teeth.

*Count the brackets on your braces.

*Post a guess-how-long-this-is? photo on Instagram and wait for responses.

*Practice your duck face in the mirror and post it on Facebook to annoy the world.

*Play a game of solitaire. (Everyone brings their phone to the bathroom)

*Change the toilet paper roll. -just kidding.

*Play a game of Frootloop toss where you try to peg the unflushable offender with a fruity ring. This activity will fine tune your aim for when you try to win a goldfish at the fair.

*Take a moment to squeeze the trigger on the air freshener that’s sitting right next to the toilet for your spraying convenience. – this activity is highly recommended.

Just… pleeeeease.

Remember, much like the age-old camping rule… leave no trace.

This concludes today’s lesson in Civilized Bathroom Etiquette.

Have a great day.

Addendum – (a month later) because I have a GIANT mess in my upstairs toilet that’s definitely going to require a plunger and a shit-load of disinfectant. Hopefully, I won’t have to get Mr. Anaconda the snake-unplugger-tool out. Fingers crossed AND nose plugged.

The addendum- never attempt to flush more than six squares of TP at the same time. DUH. I don’t care how GINORMOUS your poop is, the toilet can only swallow so much. New rule- if it’s bigger than a hamster, divide it up.

That is all.

Big Kahuna’s is 17!!!


Me (to #16) – Where did you go?

< Elapsed time 12 minutes, current temperature 22 F. >

#16- I went for a walk.

Me- In other words, you took up smoking.

#16- Did not. Smell my hands.

He already KNOWS the routine.

If I detect an over abundance of cologne, sudden affinity for minty gum, new air freshener, windows rolled down in my car… I’m suspicious.

I’ve been randomly interrogating him since he was around 12.

My eldest two never did it, but THIS one’s my wild child.

I use advanced methods like smelling his fingers, nose, hair and clothing.

I wasn’t born yesterday.

Also, I used to sneak cigarettes myself… from my husband, so I’m experienced.

Anyway, he was clean which is good because he’s already doing time for something else.

The something else didn’t make the inter webs because it was a doozy. Don’t even bother asking.

If you read my blog, you know I refer to #16 as Big Kahunna’s and Jackass #16. Since today is his 17th birthday, he’ll now be known as #17.

He’s my wild child… my mini-me with testosterone.


To celebrate his big day I shall post a few links to his misadventures from the past year.

Big Kahuna’s Goes Driving

Make Way for the Jackass Mobile

Testosterone Behind the Wheel


Happy Birthday #17!!!

The Cellphone Generation

You know that ohshit moment when you realize you forgot something in the oven?

Well, I do that, except instead of food, I occasionally forget to pick up one of my kids.

Football last night.

In my defense, it was the second practice of the day, which translates to the fourth pick-up…for him. (plus two for Diva #13)

Annnnnnnnd, the final pick up was at 9 pm, meaning my brain had called it quits several hours prior.

Thank God for cell phones.

Not HIS cell phone though, which apparently is flat line due to water damage which by the way, is a complete mystery, because he absolutely did NOT have it anywhere near even a drop of water let alone a leaky athletic drink in his bag. (my personal expert wannabe CSI investigator opinion)


He borrowed someone else’s phone to call.

Everyone has a cell phone, right?

Which made me think, HOW on earth did our generation survive our teens without portable communication devices?

Then it occurred to me.

If it was under 20 miles… we WALKED.

With an armful of books (backpacks were for camping) clunky over-sized projects the size of an empty refrigerator box, sports equipment without a fancy-carrying-bag and over-sized band instruments (I actually played the tenor sax for awhile- no shit) to name a few.

In the snow, sleet or rain.


We walked everywhere.

Apparently, walking 10 miles in the snow wearing a short cheerleading skirt with a tenor sax on your back leads to adult awesomeness.

I didn’t forget to say books, because those usually stayed in my locker.


Our kiddo’s are doomed.

It’s a damned good thing they have awesome parents.


Guess how many… CONDOMS

Hump Day Activity

You know that game where you have to guess how many jelly beans or other types of candy are in a jar?

We’re going to play…

How many condoms are in this box?

Yup. Seriously.

They’re in my actual possession right now.

I’m going to love my new job as…

The condom nurse. (not exclusively, but sort of)

Fortunately, it’s a hands OFF teaching kinda thing.


I felt the need to clarify THAT.

I’m not gonna lie, I’m totally looking forward to being INSTANTLY popular.

Anyway, getting back to the counting game-

How many condoms are in this box?

*Enough to distract this entire counties high school football teams from video games for a few hours. (Yes, only a FEW hours. I’m taking a wild guess that those young men are super fast)

*More than Justin Bieber could use in 10,000 sad sorry lifetimes.

*Enough to make a balloon animal as tall as the Statue of Liberty.

*Enough to burn a gazillion calories.

*A savings to the welfare system that could potentially pay off the national debt.

*Enough to fill the drawers of Bill Clinton’s FAMOUS desk.

*Enough to keep a porn star out of the ER for one or two phases of the moon.

*Enough to get the Energizer Bunny through one breeding season without having to celebrate Father’s Day.

*Enough to hit each member of congress with a water-filled replica of themselves… 10 times.

*Enough to last through an entire fantasy date with Channing Tatum.

*Enough to construct an inflatable life raft for the President of the United States. He would totally sink.  I hear he’s an excellent swimmer.

Dear Secret Service guys reading my awesome blog, no need to put me on ‘the list’. Also, feel free to contact me for a free raincoat.

Hint- It’s a larger number than it appears to be and if they were my husbands condoms, he would definitely have enough leftover to make a nice pillow for his coffin.

Make Way for the Jackass-mobile


My 16 y/o son- Big Kahuna’s #16  is less than a month away from taking his driving test.

Name origin explained HERE–> Big Kahunas


A light bulb *burst* over my head this morning while I was pondering this upcoming event and the realization that soon he’ll be unleashed into society… on wheels.

*Making sign of the cross*


Fun Fact- Blood flow initially intended to nourish the brain is diverted due SOUTH in the teen years and probably into the early twenties.

The obvious problem here is… the penis can’t see over the dashboard.

We’ll call these the jack-ass years and refer to the inexperienced boy driver as the JA.

What to do?

We have blind JA drivers amongst us.

The clear solution is to somehow “mark” them for easy identification by the rest of society and/or possibly wrap their vehicles in bubble wrap.

However, I came up with something a little more FUN for the rest of us.

For the first five years that the JA has his drivers license (I chose the five year plan to adequately cover late-blooming rookie penis’s starting out at age 18 and 19. I know… good thinking) the boy shall be mandated to mount a giant jackass head in the likeness of donkey from Shrek on the roof of their vehicle.


The head would be portable and easily detachable in the event the driver changes vehicles.

The jack-ass mascot will make loud  HEEEEEE-HAWWW donkey noises when the vehicle exceeds the speed limit and at any other time the boy does something stupid like text, run a red light or simply divert his attention elsewhere.

Also, the talking head would scold the boy in Eddie Murphy’s voice.

I’m not gonna lie… THIS is my favorite part.

“Whatcha doing, man?? You think this is Indy 500… slow yer shit down, you almost took out that old lady and her ugly mutant dog. You ain’t getting no bonus Indy points for that reckless shit. Stop the vehicle right now- Donkey’s taking the wheel. You a dangerous muther sucker.”

Quite frankly, I’m hesitant to publish this post without patenting it first because it would make an ass-kicking movie script.

Pun intended.

Move over Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Insurance company’s, parents and motorists everywhere are going to LOVE this idea.

Hold your applause while we vote.

All in favor…

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Would you like a side of charcoal with that?


What is it?

Answer- they USED to be French fries, but NOW they’re charcoal sticks.

They actually WRITE.

Of course I tried it. It’s the first thing I did. (I drew a smiley face)

No shit.

The REAL question here is… am I proud or horrified?

My 19 y/o was making french fries last night, they caught fire and he extinguished it. The End.

I woke up to powdery fire-putter-outter-stuff all over the counter.

Cleaned it up, made coffee and haven’t missed a beat.

I file this under… Everyday shit.

By EVERY day, I mean it wasn’t our first fire.

Also, my kids are pretty damned cool under pressure.

I like that.