Today marked the 7th time in a row that I remembered to piss before settling into the jacuzzi tub. Well, maybe 6 1/2 because once I was in knee deep when I remembered, but I didn't want to get the floor sopping wet so I pissed from the tub to the toilet, a mere 18 inches.
I still ended up mopping the floor. I had forgotten about that nasty dribble that starts setting in at around age 50.
Once Miss Lisa tipped me off that the jacuzzi was actually intended for something besides testing the action on my fishing lures, I fell in love with it. I haven't taken an actual bath since I don't know when, but now I'm in that motherfucker at least 3 times a week, soaking and relaxing and blowing fart bubbles.
I tell you what, if I ever meet the motherfucker that came up with the idea of putting little boat engines in a bathtub, I'll hold his dick while he pisses. I mean it. That dude deserves the Obamessiah's Nobel Peace Prize, for whatever it's worth.
The damned thing has other uses too. Now, after about 3 days of snacking after Miss Lisa deserted me and went to take her grandkids to the Walmart in Tennesee, I had a stack of crusty dishes piled up with no dishwasher and a tiny kitchen sink.
Hmmm...... dish drainer, Calgon, jacuzzi tub. Sounds like a plan to me. I went out and cranked up the water heater to Holy-Fucking-Shit hot, put the dishes in the tub, filled it, threw in the Calgon and fired up the jets. Fucking A, instant Okie dishwasher.
I figured on at least a half hour for the scrubbing bubbles to do their scrubbing shit, so I jumped in the truck and did a few errands around town. When I got back and drained the tub, they were sparkling clean. A quick rinse with the shower and I was set.
That's some Straight-Up White Trash shit right there, ain't it?