The Post to Rule All Posts (Update)

The good news is that I have collected and ordered all the pics I'll use to illustrate The Adventures of The Company of Seven. The bad news is that the number of necessary pics is over 120, meaning the story must be told in three parts. I'll get to those ASAP. As another snack/tease, here's a sample of what several of the pics are like: me pointing at stuff, like rock formations. Those are pretty cool, right?


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In other news, I came home from Jake's tonight to find in sink #1:

Not-my-dishes filling the sink isn't a shocking sight anymore. It's old hat. It's desensitized violence. It's Wednesday--nothing special. Sink #2, however, was a new sight and far more disturbing than any ol' pile of dishes:

Yup. That's the water-filter-jug standing an inch deep in greasy burger water. The pan and water have been there longer than my memory reaches, but the water jug was new. When I got home from work and saw the scene, I kinda just stood there awhile. I snapped a picture and left the jug there because fuck that. I'm not dealing. Besides, it was time for a test.

Notice the available counter space to the left of Sink #2. Please, don't try to figure out why someone would place the jug an inch deep in burger water rather than on available counter space. If you try to figure that out, your head a splode. Let's just deal with the facts instead of the mysteries.

Like I said, I left the jug there because I figured whoever did it would eventually realize what they did and do something about it. Now, I'd hope that something-about-it would mean, oh I don't know, washing the entire filter contraption and--just maybe--the greasy burger pan in which it stood, inch-deep in coagulating beef bi-product?

Several hours after leaving the jug in the burger water, I went back to the kitchen to check up on it. I didn't really want water. I wasn't thirsty. I just wanted to see, to test. I was filled with hope that things were set right; and when I saw that the jug was no longer in the sink, my hope was satisfied--the pan was still there but, c'mon, let's be realistic: I'd be happy with baby steps.

When I saw that things were fixed, I even became a little thirsty and decided to check in the fridge to see if Ol' Juggy was doin' OK.

Oops. Fuck you, Hope:

Yup. That's an inch of greasy burger water residue around the bottom of Poor Ol' Juggy. And yup. That's my finger smear to check, to test.


INT. KITCHEN
MASON inspects greasy rim around bottom of POOR OL' JUGGY.

MASON
Aww, man... No. It can't be.

Mason smears a finger over grease rim, hoping against all hope that he didn't just put it back in the fridge. Alas Mason's finger slides greasily over Poor Ol' Juggy. It is as he worst feared.

MASON
Aww, man. Juggy, man! No!

Juggy's filter is probably two months expired. That doesn't bother me. I treasure Juggy not for the false sense of filtered security that most people feel for their filters. I just like my goddamn water cold goddamn it, and I don't like my jugs rimmed with goddamn burger grease.

I won't say who did this. It could have been any of my roomates. [Editor's Note: The Author only has one roommate.] For the sake of anonymity, I'll even claim that the culprit could have been me. [EN: It wasn't The Author.] But I won't name names--so stop asking. [EN: It was Reed.]

Mace...out and missing Colorado