The Super Bowl revisited

I had two thoughts about a blogpost on Super Bowl Sunday.

First was sit down and create an entirely new post that would have humor, pathos, and speak to sportsmanship and the game as a metaphor for life.

Second, I thought I could just recycle a post I'd already written and crack open a cold one.

Guess which one I chose?

I've written a few times about the Super Bowl, here and here for example. But there's another post I had about it, one that expresses a universality we can all relate to. That speaks to an experience we've all had and continue to have on a daily basis.

And most importantly, again, means I don't have to come up with a new one.

So have a seat and take a read. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll wonder where I came up with the phrase "toilet envy."

Please to enjoy.

Own a home, and you'll find yourself shopping for things you never shopped for before.

Like a new toilet.

Now, I've never been a toilet connoisseur. More of a journeyman really, just using whichever one happened to be available at the moment. You know, "the moment."

But my house has three bathrooms and four people, so the law of averages had to catch up eventually. Since the toilet in our master bathroom has decided to take a leak of it's own all over the floor every time it's flushed, it was time to aquaint myself with the plumbing section at Lowe's.

After some serious research, including what I'll call "faux test drives", this is the one that bowled me over. Yeah, I said it.

It's the Kohler Memoirs Comfort Height Toilet with Stately Design.

And why shouldn't a toilet be stately?

Now that I'm forced to actually give thought to it, turns out there are some things I don't like about the toilet I have, and some features I want in a new one.

For starters, I want one that feels like a La-Z-Boy recliner. Something comfortable. Something I can spend a lot of time on. After all, it's not just a toilet. It's also a reading chair.

One of the many reviews I've read said, "Looks good and flushes well." If only we could all say that about ourselves.

I also like the comfort height. I'm not potty training anymore, I've got it down pretty good. So I don't want to feel like I'm sitting on a trainer. And sometimes, those few seconds you save not having to situate yourself so far down make the difference between, well, they make the difference.

The only thing I don't like about this big, tall, comfortable crapper is the price. It's anywhere between $750. and $1000. depending where I buy it. Not including what it'll cost me to have it installed.

I feel a bit embarrassed about being so excited about this purchase. However that embarrassment is trumped by the cases of toilet envy I know I'll be creating once everyone who visits our house spends a little quality time with the new Kohler.

Toilet envy. Yeah, I said it.

Pre-emptive strike

Just when you thought the world was running out of reasons to hate us and laugh at us comes this. Poo-Pourri.

It's a product that, how shall I put this delicately, masquerades certain odors after you've, how shall I put this delicately, dropped a deuce.

The way it works is you make (I said make) a pre-emptive strike against offensive odors by spraying the floral scent of Poo-Pourri in and around the bowl before you do your business. Then after, instead of smelling like, you know, a bathroom, the room smells like the Rockefeller Rose Garden.

Ask anyone who knows me, and when they're done raving about what a fine, upstanding, talented, funny, good looking, caring, compassionate and—what's the word....oh yeah—humble human being I am, there's a good chance they'll also tell you I've never been one to overthink or overanalyze things.

I mean sure, sometimes it'd be nice to know why I do the things I do. But then it always comes back to my parents, and while I'm sure they're at the root of many my neuroses and self-destructive bad behavior, they've both been dead a long time and I don't want to feel anger or hostility towards them. Where's the percentage in that?

Something tells me I may have wandered off point.

What I'm saying is I'm not a sociologist or psychologist. I don't even play one on TV. And maybe I'm reading too much into this. But it seems just the fact a product like this even exists is symptomatic of a larger issue: a society that wants to avoid any unpleasantness in every aspect of their lives. It's reality avoidance at it's most unattractive. It's the highest form of denial working at the level of one of the most basic human bodily functions.

Or maybe people just want their bathrooms to smell nice.

Sometimes it's hard to tell.

What took so long - Part 2

It's been well over a year since I wrote my first installment of what I've decided is going to be an ongoing series of posts, What Took So Long. And let's face it, a year can be a long time.

Like, for example, if you're a dog. Or a Republican presidential candidate. (For a story about a dog and a Republican presidential candidate, go here.)

So today, I'm reigniting the series with a journey into the bathroom. Not the comfortable reading room I sometimes call home at home, but the public restrooms we all must eventually use despite our best efforts to "hold it until we get home".

I don't know about you, but in public restrooms, there's really only one thing I want to touch. And it isn't the toilet.

So when these hands-free, self-flushing, whisper-quiet little bowls started appearing at restaurants and movie theaters (where they were desperately needed, especially if American Pie was playing), it was a huge relief. In every sense of the word. It meant no more one-legged foot flushing, on what was often a rather, um, slippery floor to keep balanced on.

Of course, what would be the point of having a hands-free toilet if you then had to turn the wet, slimy, bacteria infested faucet handle by hand. So to compliment the toilet, hands-free faucets started showing up as well.

The very definition of technology working for you.

A welcome addition to the public restroom repertoire, the only problem with the hands free faucets is that you can't adjust the water temperature. Warm leaning towards hot seems to be the impossible dream. The other control you surrender is the speed at which the water flows out. Somewhere between a trickle and a garden hose, it still seems like a good trade-off for not having to touch it.

Completing the public restroom trifeca is the automated paper towel dispenser. This piece of equipment is the most mixed blessing of all of them. Most come with a sensor where you wave your cold, wet hand past to get it to dispense one - one - paper towel. You then have to wait a long moment for it to reset, while you stand there waving frantically to get more paper towels. Again, still worth the trade-off.

If you have any suggestions for the WTSL posts, let me know.

That's it for today's installment. Signing off for now.

And as always, I know what you're asking yourself.