The gory details of my gas problem

I had a major gas problem one evening a few weeks ago.

Everything reeked. The stench in my car was unbearable. I stunk up the entire house. Yoshi even threatened to kick me out because of the truly foul odor I was emitting.

It was an ugly, nasty scene.

And by gas, I mean GASOLINE.

I had a little accident while filling up my car the other night. You may have seen the little photo on buzznet taken right before it happened.

jozjozjoz has another spill

After snapping the shot above, I reached over to take the nozzle out of the gas tank.

It was at that point that the auto shut-off thing decided to take a vacation and gas started squirting out of the end of the nozzle. I couldn’t get the gas to stop gushing out so I tried to stick the nozzle back into the gas tank. But the pressure of the gas forced the nozzle out of the tank, while still ‘locked’ on. The next thing I knew, the hose was dancing around like a wiggle worm, splooging gas in every direction. (I never did find out if there was a name of this phenomena.) By the time I had undone the lock, it had spilled all over the side of the car, and drenched my right arm/hand, while splattering all over my shirt, pants, and shoes.

I thought about telling the attendant about the defective nozzle shut-off, but I was already in shock. I could feel the gasoline penetrating my pores and I pictured billions of skin cells mutating as the petroleum infiltrated the innards of the jozjozjoz, destined to strike and transform me into a hideous beast (oh wait, too late) at some inopportune moment.

I jumped in my car and let my leadfoot lead me home. I ran up the driveway, through the front door, kicking off my shoes in haste to jump in the shower. I stripped away the soggy gas-laden wardrobe into a stinky pile in the middle of the floor and turned on the water. And I soaped up. And I SCRUBBED.

And scrubbed.

And got more soap.

And scrubbed until the top layer of my skin was roughly the shade of Elmo blushing. And I still smelled of gas.

And then there were my clothes. I picked them up, off the floor and crammed it all into the sink to soak.

I went out to the living room area to pick up my shoes only to realize they weren’t there anymore.

Me: (To Yoshi) Did you throw my shoes away?
Yoshi: No, but I really should have. I put them outside so I wouldn’t have to smell your stinky shoes.
Me: Sorry it still smells like gas in here, but it’s not as bad as it was. *I* still smell like gas, but it’s much better now that I’ve showered.
Yoshi: You’re just used to the smell already. It’s pretty bad in here. I should probably put you outside with the shoes.
Me: Ha ha. Very funny.
Yoshi: I wasn’t joking.

Meanwhile, I went online to solicit advice from my friends on AIM.

Joz: yuck
Joz: my shoes are outside. my clothes are in the sink. everything stinks and the smell won’t go away. what do i do?
Mike Doss: you could just burn ’em
Joz: Good idea! ***Joz share Mike’s advice offline with Yoshi***
Mike: always happy to help.
Joz: yoshi is like “Um, NO!”
Mike: heh

My friend Jim, on the other hand, was much more helpful & sent the following links to ignite (pun intended) the hypochondriac in me:


Gee, thanks. At least I know why I smelled less gas even though the smell hadn’t actually dissipated any. Prolonged exposure to gasoline kills your sense of smell.

And they say that you don’t learn anything here.

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