Our roommate, Jay-Bird, is on thin fucking ice with us this day. Normally it's just a matter of overlooking his small faults: bathing in cologne, leaving little bits of toilet paper on the counter that he uses when he cuts himself shaving, and leaving salmon tins out on the kitchen table. Believe me when I say that it's taken quite a while to get used to these seemingly unchangable habits. None of that bothers me too much, because it causes no harm to me or our property.
Lettuce in the toilet is where I draw the line.
Last night we came home from the bar and our friend Lauren decided she wanted a salad, a request we had no problem filling. Jay-Bird happily provided the lettuce and dressing and all was good for a time. Time passed, Lauren's cab came and took her home, and I went to bed. Waking up this morning I see what I assumed was unflushed paper in the toilet, so I just looked away and flushed. Well wouldn't you know it, it doesn't flush, and the water - as if revolting against the norm - beings to rise! On any other day I would have been convinced that this was a fantastic spectacle of water rebellion, but a grim realization set in as it was clear that there appeared a clog formed by ill-set produce. The water never rose beyond the rim, and returned to the original level, the lettuce still floating there like wilted lilypads in a serene porcelain pond. This was such a lovely sight that Eric and I felt compelled to flush yet again. This time the water, in a wonderous turn of events, went down. We were pleased with this progress, but that feeling was short-lived as the lettuce plugged the hole and proceeded to flap around, as if to wave and taunt us. Possibly it was trying to communicate to us that old produce, once reaching a certain age, must follow the Logan's Run formula and be taken to the compost bin, not a vessel for human waste. Now, I don't know if Jay-bird believes the toilet to be a repository for produce, or a vegetable sacrifical altar, or possibly a vortex in which there is no return for excrement, lettuce, or any other seemingly flushable object.
One way or another, Jay-Bird is going to get a fucking earful.
I've been re-watching my Futurama DVD set (first season), and I have fallen into healthy platonic love with Doctor Zoidberg. I think I like him so much is because while people give him shit, and he's always screwing up, he's either too stupid or too smart to care. I'd like to say I can very much relate to that, but I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with likening myself to a cartoon cephalopod/crustacean doctor. Although, he does definitely speak with Jewish mannerisms, and really, who doesn't like Jews?. On second thought, I don't think I want the answer to that.
I've got some updates to do to the layout and sidebar here. There's a new music image under the Music thing, but damned if I know how long that will last.
Moment of Zen: I tell you to walk left and you go right. You're fucking stupid.