My walls are crap. My Apartment of Doom is brittle. It’s plaster cracks like a two-dollar whore in a hog pit. My bricks. My bricks break drill bits. From all directions, my ramparts are uneven, poorly shored and leveled.

Installing shelves, or rather watching them being installed is a huge, one-toothed, partially-paralyzed bitch. It drains my soul.

To lighten my mood and day, I think of horrible things. For example, someone recently told me about the act of giving a person an “upper deck“, which according to urbandictionary.com is:

upper deck:
Where you go to someone’s house, shit in the tank part of the toilet. the shit in there starts rotting, and starts smelling up the bathroom, and people don’t know where the smell is coming from because they never look in the tank part of the toilet.

usage: I took a crap in CJ’s Top Tank and left him a Upper Deck he will never forget.

It’s an extremely diabolical act—to be sure. While meditating on the sheer hatred someone must have to do this, my attention was grabbed by a home-improvement show on my TV. In it, a plumber was talking about toilets and plumbing and the pitfalls of damaging one’s “ball cock“. I quickly looked up the term, finding it to be:

ball cock
n. A self-regulating device controlling the supply of water in a tank, cistern, or toilet by means of a float connected to a valve that opens or closes with a change in water level.

Doing the mental math, I pieced together a truly dark scenario. A person, so angered, so soul-torn, they go into another person’s bathroom, stand on the toilet, drop their pants and defecate in their enemy’s tank, perhaps (in the force of the moment) abusing or dislodging the victim’s ball cock, which as I understand, is a bad thing.