There are two kinds of men in this world: those who have faced the urinal clog, and those who will.
He plunged again. And again. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His thrift-store tie dangled into the danger zone. On the fifth plunge, a sound emerged: a wet, shuddering schlurrrrp , like a giant drinking the last of a milkshake through a bent straw. urinal clog
Greg stood there, breathing hard, the plunger dripping in his hand. The man in the pinstripe suit had stopped crying and was staring at him with something like awe. There are two kinds of men in this