Okay so Saturday was my day to be Mr. Productive, I decide that I needed fix everything that is broken in my bathroom mainly my bathtub drain and the sink drain. With the help of my dad we started with the sink drain because the bathroom drain was still backed up with water. So we removed the P-trap a whole bunch of black goop dropped into the bucket. Also it smelled really really bad. Then we unhooked the clog and it was also covered in the black goop. So I spent a good portion of the time cleaning the clog outside. Then I cleaned the P trap of this oatmeal stuff. It reminded me of something out of a horror movie. Then we unclogged the bathtub drain from the same thing. Then I decided to clean the disgustion filthy bathroom for the fun of it. In the end my bathroom had some gross moldy stuff in its drain apparently its my fathers fault for forgetting a few minor details while building the bathroom.
On a side note I have reason to believe that my sister Liz has a plot to try and kill me and make it look like an accident. Because the other part of my productive day was fixing the falling ceiling fan in my bedroom. At first I assumed it was my family stomping up strairs trying to get my attention. But when we were taking it apart my dad let me know that wasnt the reason it was falling out just faulty parts which wasn't fun to fix it. Then while we putting back up we noticed the bookshelf was looking like its about to break and fall on my face. And I already knew about the bookshelf before the ceiling fan but now that I put all the things together I am thinking that my sister is trying to kill me. But she can't do it!
5 comments:
Don't blame Liz. If she really wanted you dead it would have happened by now. The bookshelf and fan are your responsibility due to you never letting her move out of that room.
Did you clean your room while you were at it? I could do it but just ask your mom, you won't have anything left when I am done! : )
Thank you Stephanie.
Scott, I was responsible with the bookshelf and never packed it like you did.
Oh, and blame Dad or the contractor if you want to blame someone because that shelf would have more supports, but I tapped and tapped and could not find another stud to support it with.
And don't forget, I am not 6'4" so I never had to worry about hacking my head off with a ceiling fan.
Funny too, I thought this post was about you being a pyro and lighting things on fire. I thought the first picture was the charred remains of some unidentifiable object. As I read on I realized it really was something.
ICK!
I recognized the objects in those first pictures immediately, I used to have to clean out the drain who-haw in the sink in my old apartment pretty regularly.
I wouldn't blame Liz for trying to kill you, I'd blame mom and dad, it's much easier. She might be Mean Lizzy, but I've never seen her try to kill anyone.
HEY! Don't blame me, I pretty much have nothing to do with the whole situation. If I wanted you dead, I would have just let you continue doing all the crazy stuff you have tried over your lifetime instead of stopping you. Or...I could have told Dad it was you who tried to burn the house down, that could have done it.
On a lighter note, your word verification is deroide, my definition: Whatever you have to do to get rid of hemmoroids.
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