I live in a hundred-year-old building in SF, which is normally quite nice. Recently, we were confronted with the reality of our twenty-five-year-old toilet when the tank began leaking. The broken piece was easily identifiable, but replacing it would require a flux capacitor and Yellow Pages from 1988, the last year said part was manufactured. Luckily, our flat has another half-bathroom, a half-bathroom in the most literal sense. The toilet is full-sized, but every other bathroom component would not be out of place in the penultimate scene of Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (though not the director's cut).

The only solution was a full toilet replacement. So out went the old toilet and in came the new one. We got a sweet little Lamosa - I think it is a 2004 model.

The most notable difference in our new toilet is the sturdier seat. Our old seat was occasionally off-center, and thus, wobbly. I was never afraid of capsizing, but when you're at your most vulnerable, a small imbalance is quite unwelcome. The new seat won't wiggle even if you try to move it intentionally. The seat also seems to be slightly smaller, but it is entirely possible that my ass is simply bigger.

I tested the flush before anything else. Initially, I was apprehensive, because the flush volume appeared to be so low. However, it has so far got the job done. Of course, we'll see the toilet's true colors when it comes to crunch time: big Ethiopian food dinners, drinking binges, the morning after Thanksgiving. Inspector 405 vouches for it.

The low-volume flush is an element of the device's general increased efficiency. It's like going from a big Cadillac to a mid-size Toyota sedan. It is possible that our new toilet is a hybrid. At the very least, it runs on natural gas.

The whole thing has a smaller footprint than the old one, which you can clearly see below. I'm not sure how we will take advantage of the extra floor space this has opened up for us. Maybe a tasteful new rug, or an extra tenant.

Before taking a test-drive, I got under the hood and looked around. It is a pretty simple arrangement, certainly simpler than the previous, medieval-Rube-Goldberg-with-autism mechanics of the old john. No part resembles a dinosaur bone, which is certainly a positive.

I wanted to make my first time with the toilet special. I kept the overhead light off, lit some candles, and started eating more fruit. For music, I decided on Pearl Jam's Release. In general, it was a very positive, gentle experience, but I don't want to go into it any further. A gentleman does not piss and tell.

Geetika wanted to name the toilet, and we finally settled on Troy the Toilet, both for alliteration and the idea that we would be implicitly defecating on the University of Southern California every time we visited the bathroom. Naturally, our other toilet would be named after USC's ostensible starting quarterback, John David Booty. I'm trying to teach myself to fart "Fight On", but so far, no luck.

As a bonus photo, here is my girly G.L.O.W. bath puff: