Refugees in the Night

*Updated Below*
Raw sewage river
In our apartment, so we

became refugees.

I WISH I was lying. I WISH the above poo-poo haiku was me just yanking your chain but no. No. NO. Several hours ago, we were greeted by a large plumbing emergency which forced me to become hysterical, grab Archer, Scarlett and a few personal belongings and flee. Because, poop dreams and all, I do not do well with raw sewage. All. Over. The. Place.

I'm not normally squeamish. Two days ago I inserted a very large needle into Scar's chest to access her port and it only took me two tries. That's like... REALLY good. Like, her nurses sometimes take five or six or twenty tries before they can get up in there. Anyway...

Raw sewage is not something I can stomach. I've pretty much been in and out of hysteria since I opened the bathroom door and saw...

Okay. Maybe this post was a bad idea. Tragedy + Time = Comedy and I'm sure as soon as the mess is fixed and cleaned and crap is no longer floating down our hall, I will laugh about this and make a thousand jokes, but I'm not quite there yet, especially since I just got off the phone with Hal who just informed me of another ten horrifying details. Thankfully my husband is great at dealing with all kinds of shit (heh!) so while Scar, Archer and I are squatting at Lauren's house watching Grease and making sandwiches out of crackers and jam, Hal is dealing like a champ.

Thank you, baby.

In the meantime, let's talk about Grease. How annoying is Sandra D? I just want to sock her one in the nose. And what happened to John Travolta? He used to be so cool and comfortable with his gay-ness. And then there's Rizzo? Has anyone else noticed that Rizzo is perpetually with camel-toe? Sorry. Just trying to make lemonade, people. Just trying to make lemonade.

Updated to Add: We're back in business. Back in the high life again. Etc. If you're a soon-to-be house guest here at casa de GGC, not to worry. It smells like lemon zest up in here, bitches. The shit is no longer in the fan. I repeat, the shit is no longer in the fan.... or anywhere else. Amen and goodnight...



Anonymous | 11:23 PM

Uh oh, what does this tragic news mean for upcoming houseguests?!?

Scar | 11:27 PM

hey fellow refugee. I'm glad the toilet is better. You are the best port poker I know. What did the port say when he didn't want to be accessed? ACCESS DENIED! haha. that's so raven.

Anonymous | 7:14 AM

Wheeee! I love you and can't wait to breathe your lemon zest.

Julie Marsh | 12:01 PM

Holy shit.

No, seriously. What the hell happened?

Anonymous | 12:49 PM

ewww. no idea what happened... as soon as enough time has elapsed (and/or enough drinks have been drunk), details please. that sounds shitty. (ha.)

Anonymous | 3:26 PM

ew. but if you had to flee poop with anyone i'm sure scarlett would be your first choice so congrats on that. can't wait to hear about the adventures!! !jjlibra (actually, i'm jessica but when i was brave enough to use my real name i saw you already had a jessica so to avoid confusion i remain jjlibra)

kittenpie | 5:04 PM

Oh, yuck. No one should have to deal with that. The aftermath alone is enough to make you want to throw out everything and buy new furniture. Blech.

Hal | 3:06 PM

The GGC has a penchant for poopxageration ... it wasn't THAT bad, although it's similar to drinking too much of one drink (e.g. Screwdriver) and then every time thereafter, a glass of O.J. tastes like it's spiked. That smell has rooted into my nostrils, and entering the bathroom henceforth has made me want to drink a bottle of clorox. Every time.

Anonymous | 8:37 AM

Oh, you poor things! Just channel your inner Shawshank escapee... "swam through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side".