On my way back from Tahoe this weekend I had a sacrosanct experience after eating at Mikuni's in Sacramento on our way back. After a delectable lunch I had to possibly deuce-deuce it up before the long trip home, but I was thwarted by powers beyond those of mortal men. As soon as I opened the door I could tell that someone was in there emptying their bowels and, most likely, the gates of hell along with it. I've been in plenty a port-o-potty that necessitated holding one's breath, and even some individual stalls at work, but never an entire public bathroom. I closed the door and waited outside for two reasons. One, the bathrooms were all being used; and two, to save the rest of the restaurant from being contaminated.
After some poor souls were able to breast-stroke themselves through the dense fog of stink in order to leave, I took a deep breath and entered. At this time deuce-duece was definitely out of the question without some sort of seperate air supply. I put my water bottle down and then proceeded to divide my intentions by themselves ("uno-uno" for the mathematically or linguistically impaired) at the urinal. It was at this time that I experienced what I thought was the illogical and impossible: the Quadruple Flush. I've heard of courtesy flushes and double flushes, but never a quadruple flush. I think that his reasoning was that the smell would be able to permeate through the local sewage system, trail him, and then this disaster would be linked to him. He was most likely trying to flush his turd into the next county (and, rightfully so). Curious. Interesting. Captivating. I suppose that that would do the trick. The man is probably working from experience.
Trump’s Fixer, Killer Clintons, and What Comey Didn’t Reveal, in this week’s fact-challenged tabloids - Not all is as it seems in this week’s dubious tabloids, as ulterior motives and hidden agendas mark a couple of the more notable stories. Why does the *...
4 hours ago