The Best Christmas Present Ever: Toilet Humor

My roommates and I threw a Halloween party. We had talked about it since the beginning of October, planned matching costumes (Peter Pan, Tink, and Captain Hook: see end of this post), and were all around excited. Until two days before the fête when I woke up with a cold. A ferocious cold. The kind of cold where your head is so overwhelmed with snot you have no choice but to become a mouth breather. No one likes a mouth breather. Especially at a party.

I was well enough to function, not sick enough to cancel, and so the party plan soldiered ahead, full stride. The day of I ended up working late in New Jersey, giving me no time to help with decorations. As soon as my train got back to Manhattan, I picked up snacks, an extra box of tissues, and rushed home.

I put on my costume, I mingled with guessed, I drank a drink or two (because that’s a great idea when you’re sick). I was actually having fun. Until the clock struck midnight. Then I turned into a pumpkin, with stringy, gloopy, gross insides and a single, pained expression carved into my face: No, I’m great! Really! Totally having fun! By 2AM the party was still going strong and I couldn’t take it any more.

I slipped in my room, to lie down just for a minute. You can guess what happened next. I woke up 4 hours later, fully clothed on top of my bed, my painted Captain Hook mustache smeared all over my face. Both my bladder and sinuses were full to bursting as I arose and stumbled out of the room. The carnage from the party, beer bottles and fallen streamers, greeted me on the way to the bathroom. The apartment didn’t look too bad, a mess to deal with after more sleep. I made it to the bathroom, grimaced at my reflection in the mirror, and plunked myself down on the toilet with a sigh of relief. Relief immediately turned to surprise and pain. OUCH! Something had bitten my ass! What the hell was going on?

angry toilet
image via

Ignoring my acute need to relieve myself, I pulled up my pants and surveyed the scene. That’s when I saw it, a large crack in the toilet seat. Some one at the party had broken the toilet seat! How was that possible? I had never considered it a possibility before, that one could break the seat of a toilet. Nor had I considered that once broken, the cracked toilet seat will pinch any ass that sits upon it. It was too much to bear at such an early hour of the morning. Some how I managed to position myself in a way to avoid the treacherous part of the seat and with an empty bladder, went back to bed.

When we all arose near noon, the mystery of the broken toilet seat remained in the dark. Not one of my roommates had a clue as to who broke it. No one at the party had confessed nor apologized. “How the hell do you break a toilet seat?” we wondered. Our butts had all be accosted by the crack, we all agreed it was one of the more unpleasant experience our rears had ever endured. We needed a new toilet seat pronto.

But where does one purchase a new toilet seat? How does one attach it after having purchased it? This was a “Things You Must Deal With As An Adult” first for me. Weeks passed, we still didn’t have a new toilet seat. We all learned to maneuver around the crack, like children playing a game on the sidewalk Step on a crack, break your mother’s back. A month passed. What the hell is wrong with us! We still have this horrible toilet seat! I went out, determined to be an adult. To buy a new toilet seat. To put an end to this ridiculousness! When I finally found a store that sold such things, I still came out empty. Do we need a 17 inch seat? 19 inch? 21? I have no idea! This is overwhelming! Fuck it, we’ve learned to avoid the crack, I’m not getting a new one today!

CatOnToilet
Pip the Cat, models the toilet seat

This lasted until Christmas. Christmas! Our butts endured nearly two months worth of pinches! In the end, my roommates parents ended up buying us a new toilet seat. They installed it as well. It is by far the best Christmas present I received this year. Sorry, everyone-else-who-got-me-prettier-presents-that-a-toilet-seat, but it’s the truth. I still sit down on it, expecting the old familiar cheek pinch. Then I realize it is new, perfect, uncracked. I can relax. It makes me smile every time I use the toilet these days. Best. Christmas. Present. Ever.

feature image: http://www.handymanhowto.com/finishing-a-basement-bathroom-part-12/

About New York Cliche

NYC lifestyle blog by Mary Lane. Events, adventures, epic mistakes, dating, life, humor. A 20-something trying to make it (and make out) in the city of dreams.

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