It's a dog eat dog world and I'm wearing milkbone undies

Some days you're the fly, other days you're the two day old doggie poo. Either way, you're in it up to your....Well anyway. I think I am getting in some practice for my new career as a professional gasoline thief. In order to drop the fuel tank and remove the fuel lines, I needed to get all of the fuel out of the tank. Mind you, these things are not easy to get to. I finally got one of the lines off, but had the car jacked-up to get to the tank. All of the fuel was at the wrong end of the tank to drain it out. So, it's siphon time at the makeshift GTI repair shop. Can you see where this is heading? First off, gasoline still tastes as bad as I remember it tasting. Secondly, I watched the stupid thing siphon at a snail's pace because the only size hose I could fit through the lines to get into the tank would barely allow a BB to pass through it. Staring at it for 10 minutes straight, I figured I was in the clear and could move on to the next task. I guess it was right about time to add another item to the task list. I left it alone for no time at all, but apparently, no time at all is exactly the amount of time it takes to make a solid effort in filling up one side of the garage with gasoline. You guessed it, the hose slipped out of the gas can I was using to drain the gas into and decided it would have much more room to spread out and stretch it's tiny little petroleum based arms across my garage. Needless to say, the tank is still where it was hanging last night and the fuel lines have not budged an inch.