Thursday, July 22, 2010

shitstorm/shitpocalypse 2010

this is an email i sent to amy and caroline this morning. i thought at first that i shouldn't post this due to the nature of the content, but since then i've clearly changed my mind. be warned: you'll find very little censorship here (including but not limited to the photo further below).


*Please be advised that a very gnarly picture is attached to this email.*

Come gather round, children. Let me regale you with a sweet, sweet story.

Setting: our apartment
Time: approximately 8:25 AM (EST)

I make the last minute touches on my getting ready routine - straighten a piece of hair here, spritz some perfume there - when something makes me think of our darling pets. Maybe Desmond barked or Penelope growled. Maybe it was just a feeling I had; I'm not sure because what happened next forced any previous thought from my head.

I walk into the living room to find Penelope, Desmond, and Charlie gathered around the same pile of slimy brown... something. Poop? Vomit? A delicious combo of the two? Furthermore, Desmond is eating/licking the yum pile. I snatch him up and land him what might be his hardest blow to date. He yelps and I genuinely feel bad about the child abuse... until I notice the remnants of runny poo around his mouth, and on his paws and fur. I JUST gave this tot a bath two nights ago and that's now out the window.

First thing's first: I take Desmond to the bathtub before I remember - shit! our tub/shower handle is broken and I can't switch from shower to bath. I improvise and clear out the kitchen sink and toss baby-angel in. The approximate time is now 8:30, when I should be waiting for, if not on, the M14D bus to work.

He is not happy about this, but neither am I, so we forge ahead, clearly unhappy with one another. I doggy-shampoo him, rinse, and towel dry before I toss him into the dog pen set up in Amy's room. Now there's nothing left for me to do but tackle the poop bomb that went off. I have no idea when the pooping went down, or who the culprits were (although I have my suspicions). It was quick, though, because I walked into the bathroom for a hot second, and there hadn't been anything wrong on my way in. On the side closest to the door of our coffee table, I find a couple solid pieces which are too big for baby D's body, thus leading me to believe the gift giver is Penelope. But the odd thing is that there are pieces of loose stool (gross) near the solids, and I wonder if Penelope is the sole owner. Then, on the other side of the coffee table are two more drops of loose poo, and finally, sitting in front of our chair is a huge pile of what looks like diarrhea, vomit, and regular poo. It's disgusting, and I want to hurl. I have no idea what to do so I start picking up the smaller pieces near the coffee table. To my ultimate disgusted despair, I find that the loose poo is too loose to avoid merging with the carpet. By this point I am way beyond WHAT THE MOTHER F!? mode and rushing around like a crazy woman. I finally go in for the kill and try to clean up the shturverd (shit + turd + vomit), but it's hopeless. There's no way there isn't going to be a stain, and I should have been on a bus to work yesterday at this point.

This leads me to the last resort. Please keep in mind that by this time I have little sweat splotches forming on my shirt from my manual labor. Nothing frustrates me more than stifling heat, and this is really starting to become overkill (because by this time, I'd turned off all the air conditioners in the apartment to try to do my green deed of the day). I frantically toss pet toys and shoes out of my way, and push the furniture away to start rolling the carpet up. Then I fold the roll in half and drag it like a dead body into the trash chute room. Then I do my best to make the living room seem presentable, pick up Penelope, check her butt (definitely a little piece of poop stuck there), and put her in the pen with Desmond (who by this time has curled up, wet and pitiful, on his dog bed, and is trying to figure out why random dog toys are flying into the pen, bouncing off of his body while he tries to nap), shoo away Charlie, do a once-over to make sure I didn't leave the straightener on to burn the place down, call Alana to advise her I will be late (at 8:38AM, mind you. I was moving lightning fast during those 13 minutes), and walk out the door, feeling like I've just left from working a hard day at the sweatshop.

In case you're wondering, after some thinking and analyzing, I've come to the conclusion that Penelope pooped the regular pieces (she didn't poop this morning when I took her outside), Charlie pooped the shturverd (it matched in color and smell to another recent incident we had), and Desmond enjoyed the special treats like day-after pizza. Which reminds me, as I set him down in the dog pen, he looked back up at me with a "Why Mommy?" look in his eyes, and burped the foulest shit-smelling burp I may have ever smelled. Thank you, my child, thank you. And good morning to you, too.

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