1. Rowan
    January 26, 2009 @ 1:51 pm

    I am thinking now, in spite of myself, of long-forgotten scenes on the TV news of protesting prisoners rag-rolling their cell walls with the aforementioned material. This is not good, as I’ve got root veg and broccoli in the slow-cooker, and the combined assault on my senses is a little unfortunate….

    Odd that home improvement stores use earthy names for shades of brown, like hessian and tweed and oak. then there are the foodie names, like chocolate and toffee and caramel. I will applaud the first company to market a a paint called bile-duct brown.

    I knew someone who used to have a restaurant, and they did a lunchtime buffet. their chicken dishes were always very popular. One day he decided to label them “dead hens” just to see what would happen. Needless to say, he wasa left with a loooot of chicken that evening. @~@


  2. a mom in the 'burbs
    January 25, 2009 @ 9:59 pm

    Aww, Rowan, you make me laugh and cry! :)

    Yes, Dr. Bob, I think Rowan and I would concur that getting poop off the wall is the worst. I wonder why? Wait–don’t tell me. Ignorance is bliss….in fact, I am going to stop thinking about it right now….eeew!


  3. Dr. Bob
    January 25, 2009 @ 5:08 pm

    I was talking to a mom who was saying that her toddler was completely unmanageable because he TOOK OFF HIS DIAPER!!! *gasp*

    I considered telling her about how hard it is to get poop off a wall — that diaper removal was small potatoes — but then realized it would be falling on deaf ears.


  4. Rowan
    January 25, 2009 @ 12:16 am

    This brings back memories of my autistic son, until he was eight, although he does still poop in swimming pools! Poop in the tub was a thrice-weekly occurrence, and your dilemma ws one i shared. How to get rifd of it, indeed? Well, I’d yank him out and dry him, and set the towel aside for a boilwash. The bath itself was drained and manually cleared, as copious amounts of hot water from the tap seemed to have no effect. I’d use my rubber gloves, then bin them. The local store must have thought I was some OCD cleaning fetishist, the number of pairs of gloves i bought. simetimes, though, I ran out…but will draw the curtain of decorum over that scene. ;oO

    Good story! You’re right to ponder over the laughter thing. Sometimes I laughed, but mostly not, as he couldn’t understand. He wasn’t phased, though, and it made me stronger, especially when dealing with the poop muralz! With you on that one. I am a poop ninja, but birdpoop gets me, nevertheless, for some reason, although it is tiny and dry and ineffectual. Cleaning the budgie cage is my worst ever domestic task. :/


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