« Life in the big city | Main | The door is open . . . »



This is like the combination of two bad memories: the vomitorium skit from early in Saturday Night Live's life (one of Burt Reynolds worst roles, and that's saying a lot) and summer camp experiences (don't ask).


I don't like someone else to be in the same house as me when I go to the bathroom, much less sitting on an adjacent toilet.


Man, the fabled Roman excesses must have led to some formidably massive excrement if one could cause serious bodily harm in a 10 foot drop..

Hmmm .. so many seats and not a roll of Charmin in sight,, "Hey, buddy.. Could ya pass the pebbles? Little help.."


You know, I was disappointed to read somewhere that the famous vomitorium was a myth.. that Romans did not in fact gourge themselves then purge so they could eat more... Probably just our modern day fantasies of doing just that projected onto the Romans... but every Christams when we roast a huge prime rib I always wish I'd remembered to build a vomitorium into my home design.. as it is all I have is a masterbatorium..


"as it is all I have is a masterbatorium.."

You're using that to type with, aren't you?

The comments to this entry are closed.