Subject:    Re: Plumber's Butt
From:       Captain Infinity
Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology,alt.tasteless,alt.cereal,alt.tv.roseanne, 
             rec.arts.comics.dc.universe,rec.colecting.coins
Message-ID: <338cac1e.23297203@nntp.netcruiser>

Tom Evans wrote :

>Not much life is as repugnent as the site of a plumber
>bending over a clogged toilet with _half_ the crack of his/her 
>fatass winking from the rim of their filthy workpants. 
>
>Some of the miscreants are hairy backed individuals with
>obvious chimplinks. This of course makes the spectacle that 
>much worse as rivulets of backhair make their way down to 
>the heart of darkness. It's almost as if they show their ass 
>crack as a business card or an ad for their given "profession".
>
>The scourge of Plumber's Butt...kilts come to mind as many
>of the filthy lot are of scot anscestry anyway.
>

I clearly remember the very first time I experienced this.

I was eight years old.  It was morning, and I was wearing pajamas and
sitting at the breakfast table eating a bowl of Count Chocula.  I was
reading a comic book; in fact it was Jimmy Olsen and I remember that the
story had something to do with him becoming a secret agent and having to
hide inside an enormous fake heart that was filled with red ink.
Bizarre.  But anyway...

My Mom had called the repairman the day before, and he was at the house
bright and early to fix the refrigerator (I don't remember what was
wrong with it.  It must have still been keeping the food cold, because I
would not have eaten cereal with warm milk.)

This guy (beefy guy, but smaller than the father on Roseanne, whose name
I forget right now) had already turned the refrigerator away from the
wall, exposing a floor covered with dust, marbles, and a lot of pennies.
(I used to practice catching pennies in the kitchen.  I would raise my
arm so that the flat of my elbow was sticking out, my hand near my
shoulder, and then I would put a stack of pennies on my arm near my
elbow.  Then I would swish my hand down as fast as I could to catch the
pennies before they fell.  When I was learning this I missed a lot, and
a lot of them went under the fridge.  My greatest amount, in the thirty
years since then, has been catching 72 pennies without dropping one.
They were stacked in two piles on my arm, 36 in a pile.  I did this when
I was 22 years old.   But I digress.)

So there I am, slippers thumping my chair legs, stuffing Count Chocula
in my face, reading about Jimmy Olsen and looking at the now-revealed
treasure-trove of pennies, when this beefy guy squats down to remove the
bottom panel of the fridge.  And the top of his hairy crack comes
protruding over anguished belt of his pants.

I lost it.  I cracked up.  Milk came spurting out of my mouth all over
the comic, and (I swear to god) a Count Chocula marshmallow flew out my
nose.  God, did that burn!  These I was, laughing at this exposure,
upset that I had ruined my book, and smarting from having a marshmallow
come out my nose.

The adults looked at me like I was nuts.

I haven't eaten Count Chocula since, and I sure wish I knew where I
could find another copy of that Jimmy Olsen book.

-- 
Captain Infinity
(Newsgroups adjusted.)


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