Actually, I don’t think “dirty” covers it. I need another word. Stick with me and you’ll see what I mean. Delve into our head for a moment, will you?
Yes, that one. The throne. The John. The almighty porcelain God on our boat. Also the one that had decided to stop keeping the shizz in the holding tank where it belongs, but, rather, let it flow back up in the bowl. Some God!
Sad but true. And, unfortunately for us, it meant we were going to have to crack her open and replace her ailing parts. I decided to call in a specialist.
I got a job for you Mike!
With Rowe on board, we donned our special dirty-job apparel,
and set to work. Now, let me teach you a little something about the shizz system on our boat. Here’s a birds-eye view of the layout on our boat:
Here’s where the shizz goes:
Real fancy. And, let’s just appreciate, for a moment, the rockin’ 70’s Hinterhoeller ad where I got this fancy layout:
That is one fine-looking skipper ladies. I’ll bet if you rub his pot belly, it brings good luck.
“Hey Velma. It’s tough standing here at the helm. Why don’t you give my calf a good rub while I hold the wheel.”
That was fun, but back to the shizz. This is the suction tube:
So, let’s think about it. If the suction tube wasn’t holding the shizz back in the holding tank, then where do you think it was holding it? Anyone? Anyone? In the tube! We had a big black tube full of shizz that we had to take off to replace it. Someone had to clean out the tube before we could remove it.
Rowe said “NOOO!!!”
So guess who the job fell to? That’s right. The first mate. I said “How?”
And, Phillip handed me the shop vac.
I hope you’re putting two and two together by now. Yes, that’s it. We did what you’re thinking. We took the shop vac,
stuck it in the toilet,
and sucked the shizz out. And, I wish this was some kind of interactive blog, or a scratch-and-sniff, at least, because I don’t think words can express the glorious smell that emanated from our boat that day. And, as if this job could get any funner, after the sucking was done, then where do you think shizz was? Yep! In the shop vac! Someone then had to clean that out.
Damn you Rowe!!
So … I cleaned out the shop vac. (And, do, please, try to imagine the gentle care with which I carried that sloshing thing through the galley, up the companionway stairs, out of the cockpit and up to the dock. I kept imagining the little plastic clamps that held the tank on were going to break and shizz would dump everywhere. Please, do try to vividly imagine!)
With the shop vac purged and the tube cleaned out, we set to work on wrestling that thing off the head, which actually turned out to be a monstrous chore. What did Phillip akin it to? Oh yeah. Like wrestling an anaconda in an airplane bathroom. Something like that. And, I’ll have you know despite the suction wonders of the shop vac, we weren’t able to get all of the shizz out, so some of it was still oozing out while we were twisting and grappling with that stupid hose.
And, I’ll have you further know that yanking and pulling on a ripped, wire-threaded hose is NOT a good way to keep your flimsy, paper-thin vinyl gloves intact. It was inevitable:
“Take that Rowe. You big Nancy!”
I told you it was a dirty job. But, while it seemed the dirty part was over, the hardest certainly was not. It took Phillip and I about two hours to maneuver, tug, pull and curse that damn hose out through the vberth. Phillip was stationed in the bathroom trying to push and shove it through the hole in the cabinet under the sink:
While I was wedged under the mattress in the vberth trying to pull it out on my end:
It was quite the chore. But, we finally got her out!
And, there’s a reason we have a rag shoved in the end. You don’t want any spillage!
After that, it really was a piece of cake. We replaced all of the rubber parts,
gave her nice wipe-down, and
cleaned up the last of the shizz,
Then put her back together, and voila!
And, the new suction tube:
was super sucky in the best kind of way. Everything went right from the toilet to the tank. Sccchllooop! And stayed there!
And, to prove it, I filmed the dumbest video ever to memorialize our monumental feat.
Superstar is right! We had just accomplished the dirtiest job ever, and documented the whole thing for your viewing pleasure. What does Rowe know about entertainment? Despite his lackluster performance, I let Rowe stay, though. Well, because, let’s face it.
The man looks good clean. Am I right, ladies?