For more than 9 years now I’ve lived with less water pressure coming into my house than I can generate out of my own uretha. As a Christmas gift from Santa Clause, I recently found out about a pressure regulator valve near my water cut-off (city water) that was set too low. It was a bit out of reach, but I dug a sufficient hole in the earth to get at it with a couple of wrenchs. Now, I’m ever so excited about my new water pressure. I didn’t turn it to “11” just yet – I’m giving my plumbing an opportunity to show its weaknesses before I push it. But where it is now at least allows me to flush a toilet AND operate a faucet at the same time. Sweet!!!
Why would anybody engineer a toilet that works like this? It has been done – I’ve seen pictures! But why?!? I believe this is a good candidate for Darren’s Hall of Technical Documentation Weirdness. I do like the apparent pleasure a segregated movement brings the man in the first picture. I think more than anything, sitting on the frontal bowl of the toilet would bring some discomfort as pictured in the next frame.
I’m home today with a touch of some digestion pranks my system decided to play on me. It’s a little strange this sort of thing doesn’t happen more often to me than it does. I eat some pretty diverse, and oft raunchy, things. My system is pretty forgiving for all that it’s gone through, really. When I was in high school (you knew I’d get to this, didn’t you, Sean?), I made the mistake of ingesting some incubated waters. I was with two friends, Sean and Jason Rickett. Rickett warned us against it, but Rickett was always a little bit of a pansy. Sean gave his mouth a rinse and I chugged water down like a frat-boy with a beer hat. The water was, as it turns out, probably not water at all. It’s entirely more likely that it was a mixture of hunter’s sweat, cow urine, insecticide, and rendered chicken blood. There may have been a dead animal in it somewhere up stream too. Before you ask me why I would do this, understand that I came from southern Georgia where standing water was generally safe to drink. There was so much tannic acid in the water down there that you were essentially drinking an antibiotic tea. Remarkably, it wasn’t until the next morning that the effects of the mountain water finally paid its toll. Sean and I both would spend the next three days cursing Montezuma for the infestation spawned in our intestines. Maybe the Aztec ruler’s ghost had nothing to do with it, but we needed someone to curse and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be ourselves! Sean met his punishment with utter surprise as I recall. He thought he would simply handle the Triple-S – a normal enough thing for some. What happened as he began his descent is too innapropriate for anything but high schoolers, but suffice it to say that his system was thoroughly evacuated through all orifices over the next several days. I too can recall the sudden overwhelming urge to purge whilst seeing to the immediate need of the other. It was as though the pressure was too great to be let from a single valve. Neither of us was aware of eachother’s fate until we got back to school on Thursday. I recall Sean saying that he sat on the toilet all week hoping that I was going through the same thing. That’s the mark of a good friend, truly.
A great injustice at CheckFree. Where I am, on the 3rd floor of my building, the toilets have the flushing power of a Mexican prison (I doubt this is the case, but imagine a dirt-floored prison cell with a groove cut in the floor to shed excrement away in due time). You’ll have to flush multiple times if you so much as spit in it. Rumor has it that the water fountains back up from time-to-time with sewage. I’ve seen the sludge in the fountain, but I have to imagine the building would be evacuated if it really was raw sewage. The 2nd floor, however, has a flusher to reckon with. It’ll suck you down with it if you’re too close when you hit the valve. It reminds me of an airplane toilet. I have always imagined that an airplane toilet just opens a hole in the hull, where 400 mile/hr. winds siphon the bowl in a μ second.