Thursday, September 10, 2009

The Dummies' Guide to Bungholes

Once, I had this no kink male hose bib. It fit the hex bushing just fine. But the hex bush turned out to be too big for my bunghole.

How embarrassing!

My hex bush was too big because, as I've surely mentioned before, I loath measuring. So I used my fingers. The bunghole diameter width went from the tip of my pointer finger to the spot between the first knuckle wrinkle and that freckle. I'm covered in freckles, so it's not surprising that there was a mismatched bushing.

I returned to the small town, locally-owned, hardware store, to the wall of 1000's of plumbing pieces, which Coyote immediately set to scrambling just as fast as he could.

Seeking the right mating for my purposes, I paired males and females, females and females, males and males, in a shocking WaterWorks orgy.

Finally, a tall, well-rounded human male came to my rescue. Unable to make eye contact and blushing brilliantly, I explained my problem with censor-worthy explicity. It was surely an R rated conversation, bordering on X. I covered Coyote's ears.

What would be so bad about names like: thingamabobs, schloopers, schloopees, whatzits, hose-ery screws... okay, except the last one. The only possible conclusion is that plumbers must have backed-up minds.

He said, "OH! I see. You have a 1/2 inch female when you need a male."
Oh sure! I almost said, You think little female brains can't handle the plumbing aisle. I see how you are, you PIG!

But alas, he was only talking about hosery, and helpfully too. He even asked if I had my plumbers putty. And I mentioned my possession of Teflon tape, grateful for the small, merciful miracle that prevented it from being called K-Y personal screw tape.

"So do you work here?" I asked, hoping he could direct me to a bunghole tightener, for a problem with an entirely different bunghole.
"No, I actually work for Avista utility. I just happened to notice that you'd been standing here for a long time." What a gentleman!

And THAT is how shoddy the service is at my local hardware store, which is sad because I'm so loyal to the local. But in this case, it is no longer in my best interest to be so.

Huck said he actually needed a wrecking bar for the trough's bunghole problem. And could I pick one up?

HomeDespot this time. They've enthroned omniscient gods and goddesses on the entry carpet now.
"How can I help you?" she asked.
"I need a crow bar." I stated, boldly.
She cocked her head a little. Her mouth dropped open like she was experiencing a small stroke.
Silence, she noted.
Then, "um" slowly, "okay." And she took on this counseloric, relaxing tone, like she was going to talk me down.

"This is a pry bar." Huck said, disappointed, "I already have two."
"It's different than a crow bar?"
"Crow bar? Did you just say 'crow bar'?" he asked, bewildered.
"Isn't that what you asked me to get?"
"'Crow bar' is a term rooted in racism. We don't say 'crow bar'." He gently explained to his 1/2 inch female. Maybe that's why the lady at HomeDespot had seemed so shocked. It just wouldn't have occurred to me. I thought crows were small Ravens (my favorite bird and a capstone species, by the way). And the bars are black with yellow beaks... like crows!

After I exchanged the pry bar for a "wrecking bar" a man noted to me, "It's kinda scary, you know, seeing a woman walking through a parking lot with a wrecking bar."

"Good," I said, "Have you cheated on your wife recently? Where's your car?"

I didn't care that he was NOT AMUSED because I was, after all, carrying a wrecking bar. I laughed.

4 comments:

  1. Some say that "crowbar" is a racist term ralated to "jim crow". However, the tool has been called a "crow" since the days of Shakespeare.

    Romeo and Juliet, Act 5, scene ii:
    Get me an iron crow and bring it straight.

    As you suggested, the name probably derives from its crow-like appearance.

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  2. Thanks! I was getting worried I'd have to start calling crows "wrecks" but it turns out I'm just speaking Ye Olde English.

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  3. this post is kind of disturbing, but i didn't really understand any of it. starting with the word bunghole.

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  4. the only thing better than your blog...is Grant reading it to me. The highlight of my evening! Honestly.

    xo Ronna & Grant

    ReplyDelete

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