Let Me Introduce You to my New and Improved Toilet Brush!

God, how I hate winter, especially here in the land of seemingly endless ice and snow. (Not to mention hockey and the associated discussions thereof.) Not being a hockey fan (football players look better in their pants) and not appreciating the charm of whizzing down an icy mountain at fifty miles an hour just for the fun of it, for this Canadian at least, winter brings me little joy.

Sure, Christmas is a nice diversion and a good excuse to gain five pounds, but once that's over, it's a long, cold, dark, soul-destroying marathon of suffering until spring. I hibernate beneath my mountain of blankets, sipping hot drinks in front of the fire, and dream of the days when I won't get frostbite on my lady parts just by taking out the garbage.

Exaggerating, you say? Sez you. Me and cold have never gotten along. That would explain why at forty years young I have yet to downhill ski or snowboard, and I can count the number of snowmen I have built in my lifetime on one hand. I would move to Florida, but y'all have things like cockroaches down there and me and bugs larger than my thumb have also never been pals.

The alligators, though, I think I could handle. Same with the snakes.

But last week, a gleaming, silvery beam of sunshine dazzled it's way into my heart, and lifted the weary, hypothermic spirits of this blogger:

My brand-new stainless steel toilet brush. Complete with holder! Who knew that $8.98 (taxes not included) could bring me so much happiness?

Me and toilet brushes go way back. I knew we had a special affinity about five years ago when I was unexpectedly gifted one for my birthday by a relative. I was puzzled at first, even somewhat miffed after a time. What gives? Is my toilet a sexual hotbed of breeding bacteria to the extent that I needed a wake-up call on my special day? Was I remiss about the inevitable brown scum buildup that inevitably plagued the underside of the rim? Were veritable armies of amoebas poised to use any dangling man-parts as their last chance at freedom? I thought I generally cleaned it with as much gusto as the bowl required.

To this day I do not know the reasoning behind this special gift, but I treasured that brush for years, believing with all my heart that a special message had been sent to me from above. I took it to work and showed all my friends. They all told me that this brush was something special, and accordingly, I waited a full three years before I was finally forced on Superbowl Sunday to lift it from it's place of honour beneath the sink and press it into service. (I think we had stuffed jalapenos that year.) But alas...even the most treasured among us cannot hold out forever, and Golden Boy (as I reverently named him) eventually had to be laid to rest in that Trash Bag in the sky.

But he has been replaced by one even more worthy....and I have named him "The Silver Streak" due to the amazing speed with which I will be able to clean the john from this point on.

Notice first his oh-so-shiny silver suit of armor. No more will a casual guest be able to glance down from their perch on the throne and speculate as to what we had to eat the day before based on the flotsam stuck in the bristles. (They generally are incorrect, anyway. Just because you see corn doesn't mean it was chowder.) 

Notice too, (in this money shot of Ol' Silver posed in front of the majestic backdrop of the Canadian winter) that there is a handy little splash guard to help prevent unpleasant backsplash during the dirtiest and most debilitating of jobs. (And by this I mean it would likely be a week containing more than one evening of Mexican food.)

I'm cooking up a big feed of nachos this evening, (with extra spicy salsa on the side!) in the hopes that perhaps if I am lucky, tomorrow will bring me a true test of the Silver Streak's worth. Gaze upon his shiny exterior and drool over his versatility now, my fine readers, because as of tomorrow, he shall never show his face again. (After all, yesterday was Superbowl Sunday.)  :0)

Peace!