An American woman’s body had became attached
to her boyfriend’s toilet after she sat on it for two
years, police in Kansas said.
“She was not glued. She was not tied. She was just
physically stuck by her body,” said Bryan Whipple,
the sheriff of Ness County.
It appeared Pam Babcock’s skin had grown around
the toilet seat, he added. “It is hard to imagine. …
I still have a hard time imagining it myself.”
In the annals of weird news, this one rates pretty high up there. Incidentally, I already had a tag for “toilets.” I wonder what else I’ve blogged re: toilets.
Because of its egg shape and bubble-like windows, it became known as a bubble car—a name later given to other similar vehicles. Other countries had other nicknames: In Germany it was das rollende Ei (the rolling egg) or the Sargwagen (literally “coffin on wheels”; the name apparently came from the small (or rather nonexistent) distance between the passengers and oncoming traffic). In France it was the yogurt pot. In Brazil it was the bola de futebol de fenemê (football (soccer) ball of a truck), and in Chile it is still called the huevito (little egg).
I’ve tried to reproduce the inflection present in this actual performance by comedian Mitch Hedberg:
I eat a lot of sandwiches, who doesn’t man, sandwiches
are easy to eat. But I hate sandwiches at New York deli’s,
too much fuckin’ meat on the sandwich. It’s like a cow
with a cracker on either side.
“What would you like sir?” “A pastrami sandwich.”
“Anything else?” “Yeah, a loaf of bread and some
other people.”
“What kind of bread?” “Rye… no, fuck, banana… you
got banana bread?” “What kind of cheese?” “Cottage.”
“Get the fuck out! I’m not makin’ a banana bread,
pastrami, cottage cheese sandwich. That will severely
ruin my reputation.”
You’ve just got to hear this to get the full effect. I’ll go look up an audio file… aha, this should do it. Brings back memories of hanging out in Dan’s dorm room, playing Burnout 3: Takedown, and listening to Mitch on the stereo.
A throttle-happy 20-something in a BMW pulled out in front of me, and the frothy puddle left in the car’s wake expanded just in time for my bike tires to kick the water up into my clothes.
