Dude, where's my haz-mat suit?

Sometimes life is just one vile task after another. Today was one of those days.

This morning I encountered the worst thing I have ever smelled. Which I would like to think is saying something after working in a 100,000 head feedyard and encountering all sorts of cattle grotesqueries. But today I had to clean out two refrigerators that had the electricity shut off some time ago. And the smell damn near turned me into the french military.

If only these were scratch and sniff pictures.

I could have sworn I heard this black stuff say hope abandon all ye who enter here. Didn't listen.

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The money shot.

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Inside were at least three milk jugs. I wanted to catalog all the items, but it was all I could do to snap this one picture, before I started tossing stuff into a garbage bag as fast as a vegas dealer at blackjack.

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After all of the solids were cleaned out. The beige stuff is a liquid that can only be compared to Satan's semen. I have no idea what it was, but it was everywhere.

The second fridge doesn't look like much but smelled like a concentrated Juarez.

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I think the ham in the bottom left corner was the main culprit.

Focus: What is the worst thing you have ever had to cleanup?

 

Food that's gone bad is the worst I have to deal with, and it's bad enough. I know there are people that deal with much worse much more often. I like to think that my strategy of actively avoiding worse situations is what's kept me from having to do yack-inducing things lo these many years.

 

In college my roommate took a massive shit after a chili contest and a night full of boozing that clogged our toilet. We both had to leave within 20 minutes and didn't have a plunger. The worst part was that he was leaving for a week, I was only going for a weekend. He flipped on the fan and said "sorry dude, this has to wait." Fuck.

I do the only thing I really can do and let it happen, I pick up a plunger on Sunday and leave it by the door in the vain hope that for some reason I won't have to use the bathroom that week. At night I can feel a shit coming and know something has to be done so I prepare for battle.

As soon as I open the door it immediately becomes clear that he did not in fact flip the switch for the fan, he had accidentally turned on the heater. That's right, I had to unclog a toilet with shit in it from a drunk college kid after a chili contest that had been sitting in heat for a weekend. I went in and out several times because I couldn't bare the smell, but I eventually got the job done. I cursed his name for weeks after that.

 

A lot of the bars I've worked at I've ended up unblocking toilets with nothing more than my bare right hand and a couple of bin bags over the top of it.

The trick is, to stick your hands in and then pull the shit out, much like you would do with when picking up after a dog. But god forbid there is broken glass in that toilet and it cuts a hole in your bag, or even worse, your hand.

 

...... Do they not have plungers where you are? Like this thing:



Or do you have a shit log fetish or something?

 

Like all the other idiots in New Orleans who evacuated before Katrina we didn't clean out our refrigerator. Two weeks later I came home, pushed the fridge out on the front porch and started throwing everything away.

I was doing fine until I picked up a full half gallon of ice cream and the bottom fell completely out spilling rancid hot dairy product down my legs and into my shoes. I threw up things I ate as a child.

 

I've worked as a lifeguard for the past 5 summers (I just do a little part-time now, but when this story happened I was full-time), and one thing you might not realize is that lifeguards double as janitors. My first summer, the pool I worked at (a very busy one) had a summer camp come every day for about 3 hours. The camp was full of obnoxious little kids. One day, one of the guards walks out of the men's bathroom to inform us that someone had shit on the floor, literally right next to the toilet. So we walk into the bathroom to see, and sure enough, some dipshit had dropped a log less than two feet from the toilet. I'm not sure how you fucking miss the toilet when you're actually IN the stall, unless you're playing a joke on the poor asshole who has to clean it up. So one of the other guards and I played some game to choose which one of us would clean it up, and I was the loser. Cleaning it up sucked balls. I usually have a strong stomach, but I think I dry-heaved a few times. On top of that, I think I was more pissed than disgusted.

So somehow we narrowed it down to thinking it was one of the little camp dipshits who did it. After the camp left the pool and went back into the community center, their counselor had a talk with them about aiming at the toilet. Our manager went to see what he would say and said he had to leave the room after the first sentence to burst out laughing.

 

Sometimes you have to deal with logs so immense they would scare experienced lumberjacks.
The worst one I ever had to deal with was the in the girls toilets, the faecal terrorist somehow managed to create a wall of waste that completely covered and blocked the top of the u-bend. Unreachable by a plunger, or anything in the entire nightclub I had resigned myself to smashing through the defecation dam by (double gloved) hands.

I tried to detach myself from the situation, that I wasn't fisting a toilet and grabbing handfuls of shit, but it's next to impossible when you're on your knees, nearly elbow deep in a toilet, eyes stinging from the fetid stench of shite and the remnants of perfume, only serving to remind me that this impressive log came from a girl. A tiny, little girl.

I've cleaned up worse during my time working in pubs and clubs, but this one affected me the most. How do you recover after breaking up a shit the size of a baby, that came from a lady?


Oh god, please don't tell me I broke up an actual toilet baby.

 

When I worked at K-Mart, we were supposed to go upstairs and use the bathroom in the employees lounge when on duty but being lazy K-Mart employees we usually just went to the customer restrooms by the food court, which were right there. Technically we weren't supposed to do this but none of the managers gave a shit (hah!). One day I went in there to take a piss and noticed a horrible smell emenating from one of the stalls. After pissing I poked my head in to find shit....everywhere. All over the toilet seat, the walls (both the stall divider and the rear wall), the TP box, the floor, I think there was even some splattered on the ceiling. It was as if the entire hotel lobby from I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell was concentrated into that one stall. I backed away in horror, washed my hands, went and got a piece of paper and some tape to make an "out of order" sign, and found one of the managers to let him know that he should probably check out the restroom (at this point I returned to my register, which had a clear view of said customer bathroom, and watched him go in there so I could laugh my ass off at his reaction--luckily it wasn't a busy time of day).

I guess none of this fits the focus though, because I wasn't asked to clean it up--presumably the manager realized that I was a college kid working a summer job for beer money and would've quit on the spot if asked to do so. Thank God for illegal immigrants!!

 

I think I was 7 or 8 when my dad asked me to go get the jack o'lantern off the front step and throw it in the garbage a few days after halloween had passed. We were living in Ontario near the Great Lakes at the time, and it was still quite warm and humid that fall. As I picked it up, I kinda tilted it forward. The lid came off, and hundreds of maggots poured out the top, the eyes, the mouth, all down my arms and legs, onto my feet. I threw up on the spot, and my poor mother ended up cleaning maggoty puke.

 

Back in college, a jackass decided to shit in a plastic bag and microwave it.

If standard, steaming poo disgusts you, wait til you get a whiff of it microwaved.

Obviously, the microwave was thrown out but the walls had to be repainted and the carpet changed since the smell would not dissipate.

 

I worked at a camp for disabled or ill children as the core counselor for the youngest cabin. I had kids ages 6 to 9, which was fine with me, but often times this was their first time away from their parents in their lives. I had to comfort them and provide for them, but I couldn't make them older/better summer camp diet/not scared.

One of my kids, Owen, had spina bifida. He, as well as his mom, claimed he could go to the toilet himself, and this was my first week in charge of the cabin so I trusted him. I don't know if anyone here has ever worked with someone or known someone with spina bifida, but most of them do not have the ability to control their bowels, so they have to use an enema to shit. I sat outside for thirty minutes basking in my innocence of things yet to come, waiting for him to bring him to breakfast, and eventually I realized something was wrong. I walked into the cabin and heard gentle sobbing coming from the bathroom and was immediately concerned. I ran to the door, and a stench of which I could never have comprehended before this date met my nostrils. I had to ask him to open the door and when I did I was met with a horror scene. If anyone has seen the most recent South Park where Stan sees everything as shit, this was exactly like the scene in the movie trailers where the toilet had spewed out shits.

Owen apparently had gotten it into his head to try to flush these frail 20 year old toilets after he had wadded a ton of toilet paper into the toilet, which caused it to overfill, a vat of liquid shit. Also, at this point he had gotten off the toilet and sat down, but the enema wasn't all the way through, and he had let loose another pile of liquid vile right on the floor. The smell is what I imagine a corpse in 120 degree heat for 5 days to smell like. It was death that met my nostrils.

Owen was crying and half covered in shit, so I had to lift him up and put him in a tub, get that going and help him clean himself. Then I just got him ready and sent him to breakfast on a golf cart. I felt terrible because the entire time he was just apologizing, thinking I was going to be mad at him. I was more frustrated at myself for trusting an 8 year old.

Basically I spent three hours cleaning of liquid shit off of a floor for no money, just out of the goodness of my fucking heart. The worst was plunging the toilet. When the toilet paper wad came up, I had to run to the other stall and vomit. By the end I was lightheaded and reevaluating my life.

 

Once you've field-dressed a gut-shot deer that your pussy uncle can't do because he's too busy puking in the bushes next to you from the odor, you can pretty much handle anything else.

That said, I'm really not looking forward to my first shitty baby diaper.

 

What is it with men and shitty baby diapers?!? By the time the kid is old enough to have really nasty smelling ones (food other than milk and cereal) you should be a pro and be able to do it fast. *I'm not saying they can't stink like hell, because they do.

 

I might of told this story on here once before, but back in the summer before my freshmen year of college I worked at a wastewater treatment plant as a summer hire. The main reason they hired myself and another kid was to clean out a tank full of waste at the end of summer. The tank looked somewhat like this, only deeper:


We had to wear cheap biohazard suits and get into the tank that had about 2 1/2 feet of feces, condoms, needles (anything flushed down a toilet), and use a vac-con truck to suck all of the shit out of the tank. It took about a week in 90+ degree weather to get the job done. After that, I couldn't get the smell of shit off of me for a few days no matter how many showers I took.

 

I'm surprised no one has mentioned anything to do with blood.

The house I lived in for a couple years at college (I moved in a year after this incident) was the chosen hideout for a guy that had just robbed a bank . He had a pellet gun that the cops thought was a real gun, so they shot him to death.

But the city/state/whoever never sent anyone to clean up all of his blood and guts that leaked out.

On the upside that weekend my roommates threw a cops and robbers party with the original caution tape.