Maybe it’s the Kaitlin Jenner side of me, but I’ve always been fascinated by cleaning tips, especially the ones leaning toward the phantasmagorical. Sometimes I’m lured by a late-night TV commercial or a click-bait scam on the web. Perhaps it’s just that I’m a cock-eyed optimist and, deep down, believe, by golly yes, you can completely clean the filthiest truck engine by spitting Coca-Cola on it.
I was chatting with a beloved friend the other day and she preaches the miracle of white vinegar for cleaning everything from tough zapped-on microwave oven stains to the mouths of Democrats. I don’t know why they call it “white vinegar.” It’s not. It’s clear. My friend was all excited when she shared that you can place a cup of vinegar in a microwave and turn the knob to End Of The World. Several months and a $14,000 electric bill later, you don a HazMat suit, swim fins and a snorkel, open the door then duck from the cloud of liquid mercury escaping past you. If you’re still alive, wipe the insides clean as easy as pie.
Then, enjoy a large, peach margarita at 11 in the morning.
I suppose it’s a testament to lives tragically unlived, but our conversation deteriorated to my friend sharing about how you can use dryer sheets to remove stubborn rings around toilets.
If there are any illegal aliens from nations who do not use indoor plumbing currently reading this column, let the record state that the stubborn rings in question are on the INSIDE of the commode, not the out.
I mean, who the heck thinks of these things? I can just picture some fetching Mormon mom pulling a load of full-length undies fresh from the dryer. A thought balloon forms over her wavy blonde hair. She smiles. She raises her index finger in a Plato moment and says: “This may be crazy, but I’ll just bet a dryer sheet is JUST the thing to remove stubborn toilet bowl stains!”
Stubborn Toilet Bowl Stains.
Which, if memory serves, was Motley Crue’s fifth album.
Or, the 2020 campaign slogan for the Democratic Party.
Dear Mr. Santa Clarita Valley:
I don’t think you should be joking about stubborn toilet bowl stains. When I was secretary general of the United Nations, I was also appointed as World Women’s Permanent Latrine Orderly. While attempting to remove recalcitrant lime deposits from the People’s Communal Toilet of Canada, I was sexually accosted by Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh. Granted. I had been drinking heavily and taking copious amounts of hallucinogenics, along with ice cold Diet Dr. Pepper (and you’re never supposed to mix the two). And, while Brett wasn’t exactly in the ladies’ room with me at the time, nor have I ever actually met him, Brett came to me during one of my frequent and involuntary vision quests.
Sorry. I don’t have dates, times or witnesses as this was in a different dimension.
Speaking of, I have a vision for America. Vote for me in 2020 and, unlike Hillary, I promise not only to take ALL my medications, but also yours as well.
Your Next President,
Princess Elizabeth “Standing Bare Whilst Smiling Out of Context” Warren
P.S. Dryer sheets ROCK for bathroom cleaning!! Whoo! Whoo hoo!!!
Thank you just an entire heap, Liz.
The last couple of weeks, I’ve been working my tail off in an epic move to new digs. I had to go through tons of old boxes and worried that perhaps I was getting an inordinate amount of dirt, sweat, germs and grime on my steering wheel. While I am a big, strapping manly man, as indicated in the inserted albeit out-of-focus generic and grainy Signal Op/Ed mug shot above, I do have the sensitivity to worry about the embarrassment of Filthy Steering Wheel Syndrome.
F.S.W.S. is at its worst on hot days. Remnants long asleep of a rabid dog you petted in 1986 bubble to the surface of your steering wheel. You’re in a hurry, maybe as a rabbi en route for a circumcision or you’re Dr. Greg Jenkins headed to perform brain surgery (which Greg shouldn’t as I believe he’s a gynecologist, and, if not, a contrite albeit vague clarification to appear in a distant issue of this newspaper in 3-point type). You try to pull your hands off the steering wheel and they’re stuck. Finally, you pry your mitts loose and there, stuck to your palms, is an inch-thick gooey cesspool of steering wheel faux leather, gelatinous primordial ooze and your DNA.
I’d be at a loss if someone near and dear to me frantically called to ask for advice.
“Well,” I’d say. “Try not to touch thyself in a place impure. Like, Palmdale…”
If I didn’t particularly care for the person, I’d tell them to take hundreds of dryer sheets, stick them to the offending areas of their palms, find a dark place with just the right lighting and host a shadow puppet show for the kids.
I mean, what do you do?
I’m thinking — White Vinegar.
Sounds like one of those trashy plantation chick romance novels, doesn’t it?
The most prolific humorist in world history, Boston has penned more than 11,000 blogs, columns, essays, books, features and stories. He’s been named both best serious and best humorous columnist in America, is the recipient of The Will Rogers Lifetime Achievement Award and lectures most early afternoons at The Way Station on Main Street & 9th on how mixing dryer lint and vinegar causes global warming.