Me: I just had to go check the breakers in the basement and there's an inch of standing god-knows-what down there. I'm in flip-flops and long pants. *cries*
Friend 1: I bet it's just water. Or dead babies. Your call.
Me: God I hope so. We had a sewage leak last year. Dead babies would be infinitely preferrable.
Friend 1: I'd take them over raw sewage too.
Friend 2 (in response to my initial text): Oh gawd. Are you bangin' Helena Bonham Carter upstairs?
Me: I wish. That's a much better way to attempt to catch something.
And with that...
Ooooooooohhhhhgoooooooodddd I stood in gross basement ground water and/or sewage!!!!!! Jesus motherfucking tittyfucking christ on a fucking...gaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!
*hops around* *hops around* Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff!!!!
It's on my pants! Iiiit's. On. My. Paaaaaaants!!!
I can feel this crap seeping into my system, giving me cholera, diphtheria, gonorrhea, malaria, west Nile, polio and fucking Stockholm syndrome. I'm getting dizzy and my vision is fading*.
This is it.
I'm going to rise from the medical examiner's table in about twelve hours with a hunger for human brains.
I'm going to feast on the living!
I will be the beginning of the Zombie Apocalypse!
All because I had to go check the fucking breakers because the fucking washing machine is broken!!
Thanks, cheap ass place of employment. Your second-hand machines have brought about the end of civilization!!
*Not really, but I am slightly nauseous because I'm a hypochondriac.