Author Topic: S/O Proud kitchen moments -- Kitchen disasters  (Read 42260 times)

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mmswm

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Re: S/O Proud kitchen moments -- Kitchen disasters
« Reply #375 on: Yesterday at 09:16:29 PM »


...   Nope. There are some disasters that just never go away. I'm absolutely positive that the new owners of my old house in Miami are still picking bits of exploded toilet out of the walls and ceiling. I moved out if that house in 2009 The exploding toilet escapade was in 2007. I never stopped finding bits of former toilet in that bathroom.

I know. I know. Sorry in advance.  But I just have to ask.  Was the toilet unoccupied at the time of the explosion --  hopefully?

Yes, it was unoccupied.  I was using an angle grinder to remove the flange bolts in order to remove the toilet.  The angle grinder hit the base of the toilet in just the right way to explode the whole thing into a billion pieces.  Unfortunately, this was not the only toilet I've blown up.  I dropped another one not to long after that, but at least that mess wasn't as bad.
Some people lift weights.  I lift measures.  It's a far more esoteric workout. - (Quoted from a personal friend)

gramma dishes

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Re: S/O Proud kitchen moments -- Kitchen disasters
« Reply #376 on: Yesterday at 09:32:41 PM »
...  I was using an angle grinder to remove the flange bolts in order to remove the toilet.  The angle grinder hit the base of the toilet in just the right way to explode the whole thing into a billion pieces.  Unfortunately, this was not the only toilet I've blown up.  I dropped another one not to long after that, but at least that mess wasn't as bad.

LOL!  Somewhere out there, there has to be a way you can get paid for your expertise in toilet demolishing. 
You could call your business 'Johnny Destructo' or something.   ;D

sylviatexas

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Re: S/O Proud kitchen moments -- Kitchen disasters
« Reply #377 on: Today at 12:35:32 AM »
The airborne potato soup story reminded me of an oldie-but-goodie.

When my country-girl aunt graduated from high school & moved to Houston to take a job, she had an adorable apartment in a converted Victorian house;
this was just after WWII, & there was no air conditioning.

Canned biscuits had just been invented, & she was all happy & excited to be able to just crack open a can rather than pounding dough & letting it rise & pounding it again.

Things went well for a few days, & then one morning time got away from her, & she ran to catch the bus without breakfast.

leaving the can of biscuits on the countertop.
in Houston, Texas.
in September.

When she returned, there were shreds of raw biscuit dough on the countertop, on the cabinets, & on the ceiling.

When she came home to the farm after 2 weeks rather than 1, her father told her that they'd been worried about her (no such thing as a telephone in their isolated little farmhouse):
he asked her why she hadn't come home the previous week-end, & she said,
"I spent the week-end cleaning biscuits off the ceiling."