Spring Break
House hits rock bottom
How the other half lives
Zach Parks, Senior Staff Writer
Issue date: 4/22/05 Section: OpEd Page
I live in a slum.
For the last 20 years my house has been a pass down in the loving hands of caring sorostitutes. The furniture matched. It had pretty wallpaper. It had a breakfast nook. Then last year it was ransacked by socially unacceptable cavemen.
Consequently, in the last two years this house has got its sh*t ruined.
Our furniture matches in the sense that everything is covered in a dust/urine combination. The pretty wallpaper has been replaced with fist-shaped holes. The breakfast nook looks like a junkyard sprung to life and rolled around in a landfill.
In short, the house looks like herpes. It is nothing short of wooden and plaster diarrhea.
The windows are broken and boarded up. There's garbage everywhere. But one eventful Friday night the house would hit an all time low.
That being said, the following event is based on a true story.
My roommate, who I'll call Boston Jake, had just returned from Indiana with a dangerous amount of fireworks and an unhealthy amount of booze.
The combination of the poor decision-making induced by the booze and the destructive power/awesomeness of explosives is more than any toilet can possibly handle. What followed was a porcelain and urine abortion.
The curious thing is that it looked nothing like it does in the movies. No dramatic geysers of water, no dirty clouds of smoke, just a sharp cracking sound followed by a profuse layering of obscenities on the part of yours truly. Boston Jake had blown up our toilet.
I hadn't been this upset since I learned that 4/20, the biggest drughappy fun holiday since Easter, fell right in the middle of the job search drug test season.
Water flowed out the door and down the stairs. Not just regular water, toilet water. In the ultimate act of betrayal, a device designed to dispose of excrement was now spilling it all over our damn floor.
Here's a minute-by-minute recap of what would happen next.
10:15 p.m.
In a feeble attempt to salvage the remaining shards of our security deposit Boston Jake looks up toilet prices online.
For the last 20 years my house has been a pass down in the loving hands of caring sorostitutes. The furniture matched. It had pretty wallpaper. It had a breakfast nook. Then last year it was ransacked by socially unacceptable cavemen.
Consequently, in the last two years this house has got its sh*t ruined.
Our furniture matches in the sense that everything is covered in a dust/urine combination. The pretty wallpaper has been replaced with fist-shaped holes. The breakfast nook looks like a junkyard sprung to life and rolled around in a landfill.
In short, the house looks like herpes. It is nothing short of wooden and plaster diarrhea.
The windows are broken and boarded up. There's garbage everywhere. But one eventful Friday night the house would hit an all time low.
That being said, the following event is based on a true story.
My roommate, who I'll call Boston Jake, had just returned from Indiana with a dangerous amount of fireworks and an unhealthy amount of booze.
The combination of the poor decision-making induced by the booze and the destructive power/awesomeness of explosives is more than any toilet can possibly handle. What followed was a porcelain and urine abortion.
The curious thing is that it looked nothing like it does in the movies. No dramatic geysers of water, no dirty clouds of smoke, just a sharp cracking sound followed by a profuse layering of obscenities on the part of yours truly. Boston Jake had blown up our toilet.
I hadn't been this upset since I learned that 4/20, the biggest drughappy fun holiday since Easter, fell right in the middle of the job search drug test season.
Water flowed out the door and down the stairs. Not just regular water, toilet water. In the ultimate act of betrayal, a device designed to dispose of excrement was now spilling it all over our damn floor.
Here's a minute-by-minute recap of what would happen next.
10:15 p.m.
In a feeble attempt to salvage the remaining shards of our security deposit Boston Jake looks up toilet prices online.
