July 09, 2002

Time For toilet Talk I

Time For toilet Talk

I don't know what is is about having female roommates, but for the nine months I've lived in my current apartment with Amy and Emily, I've obsessed (well, by my standards) over the cleanliness of my commode. Now, with male roommates, I could care less. So long as the porcelain fixture was capable of swirling my digestive refuse out of sight, I didn't mind a moss of pubic hairs on the rim or a build-up of hard water shellac in the recesses of the bowl. I figured a good monthly cleaning was all that was required.

Now, I keep careful tabs on my toilet, whisking away stains or dust whenever they catch my eye. I'm forever terrified that one of the roomies will come in and see my toilet in less than pristine condition. There's a commercial where three guys are huddled around the TV and one guy asks how the owner keeps his toilet so clean. Now, I never engage in such conversations with my friends, but I was genuinely interested to hear the commercial guy's solution: Scrubbing Bubbles Wipes. They dissolve in toilet water, don't you know?

Elated, I went out and bought a packet of the wondrous wipes, along with a couple of toilet tank disks so my john remains filled with a blue liquid cleanser. There's something magical about blue toilet water, as if I have my own personal Oracle of Delphi five steps from my bedroom door.

"Oh, great toilet oracle, tell me how I might better serve you so that you maintain a sparkling bowl quality that will be looked favorably upon by my gender opposite roommates."

Granted, the sink and shower are shunned and denied the cleaning obsession bestowed upon their turd sucking bathroom utility counterpart, but if I ever learn that Emily uses my shower regularly, you can bet I'll be in there cleaning the tile vigorously, with my tongue if I have to.

And why do I do this? Simple. Because girls know other girls, and girls talk with other girls. And the last thing I want is to strike up a conversation with a beautiful woman who happens to know Amy or Emily, and who knows me as "the guy with the grimy toilet."

That's an impossible first impression to shake.

Posted by Ryan at July 9, 2002 04:51 PM
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