Your stepdad hides beef jerky in the toilet tank because it’s the one vault in the house nobody else will touch. Not you. Not your mom. Not even the dog, and that dog eats tampons. Somewhere right now, a grown man in cargo shorts is lifting a toilet lid like it’s the Ark of the…
Knowing how to explain to your landlord why the bathtub is full of coleslaw comes down to speed and honesty. Say it early and plainly. And never, under any circumstances, use the phrase “it’s a lifestyle.” Everything after that is damage control for a porcelain tub that now smells like the armpit of a church…
Somewhere in the Caribbean right now, a grown man in a lanyard is power-walking past a chocolate fountain with the face of someone receiving a prophecy. He has about eleven minutes of dignity left and he intends to spend every one of them hunting for an elevator that is currently holding a wedding party. The…
Your septic tank guy knows what you eat, roughly how much you drink, how many people sleep in your house, and whether the word “flushable” has ever personally fooled you. He knows because a septic tank is not a hole in the yard. It is a filing system with a lid on it. Heavy things…
So the little bastard turned another year older. Congratulations are technically in order, for a person who does not have a body, a birth certificate, or the decency to exist. Throwing a surprise party for your imaginary friend is simple. You plan the whole thing yourself, you show up, and you act shocked on their…
The printed date is a manufacturer’s opinion about flavor. Your nose is a wet biological sensor that has been rating garbage since before anyone invented pants. Neither one should be running a kitchen unsupervised. With one exception, the date on a package describes quality, not safety. The sniff test catches rot, and rot is the…