the ick factor x two . . .

1.) I have this thing about speedos. I think they should be worn by swim team members only . . . ages 12 to 19. Not, I repeat, NOT by 45+ year old, pudgy men while sunning in the front yard. It is such a major ick factor, on so many levels, I can't even begin . . .

Yet there he is, ranting at top volume . . . another exorcism . . . into the phone, at some poor beleaguered soul, ousting Luther . . . er . . . Lucifer and talking in tongues. Well, most probably some derivative of English, Spanish, and Pig Latin, who really knows . . . but you get the drift. Taco vs. the Devil . . take 312.

2.) My bathroom sink drain has been sluggish. To the point that while trying to hand wash my unmentionables, the water forgot to go down the drain. Sigh. The 9TS to the rescue. With him under the sink unhooking the stopper, a sudden collection of sludge popped into view. Taking one look at it . . . and another look at me, I knew removing said gunk fell distinctly in my jurisdiction. Suffice it to say, it was off the ick factor scale and my sink is now running smoothly.

I'm just saying . . .