Portland, we have a problem.

Jesse and I are going to Comic Con next month with some friends.  Yes, I know, you should be jealous, yadda yadda yadda.  What I'm trying to say is we are paying off one particular credit card right before we go so we can rack it up at Comic Con.  So, I'm trying to save some money.

I am in love with the Clorox toilet wand. 

DID YOU HEAR ME TOILET WAND?  I said I love you.  But you are not as cheap as other methods of toilet wandiness.  Six replacement wands are something over $4.  But a container of Comet and a new toilet brush?  Just over $2.  And it cleans the tub.  Not the toilet brush.  I guess you could use the toilet brush to clean the tub, but please don't invite me over to shower at your place.  Because, you know, those shower invites.  All the rage.

Jesse and I got back from Grants Pass on Monday and I cleaned the bathroom with my new Comet cleaner.  I was scrubbing the bathtub and pulling down all the junk we keep in the corners of the tub to wipe underneath them.

I pulled out my face wash.

And I was greeted by the newest resident of the Bray household.

Okay, so that's a picture I found on google.  My face wash is not a leaf on cement.  But his cousin was in my bathtub.  Well, his slightly thinner cousin.  Sorry, tubbo, you were the best I could find online.

I would have taken a photo but I was too busy asking Jesse, "Do those look like eggs?"  I even said, "Poor little slug" as Jesse flushed him down the toilet and we (he) wiped off his disgusting eggs from my facewash.

Fast forward to last night.  Jesse is in the shower, doing the thing where he has a song in his head but only sings like every 5th line.  I'm on the couch flipping through a Pottery Barn catalog looking at ideas to rip off when Jesse shouts "BUUUUH!!"  I RAN to his side, meaning I flipped through a couple more pages, said "What is it, honey" and when he couldn't hear me I dog eared the page (amidst a sigh) and mosied into the bathroom.

"There's a big ole slug in here and I think it's pooping."

I popped my head in the shower and while Jesse's sight was dead set on the slug in front of him and his MILLION DEMON EGGS that had just come out of his butt, I noticed another on the rim of the tub and another in the window.  I calmly told him to turn off the water and REMOVE YOUR PERSON FROM THE DEVIL SLUG TUB.

There were three!  TTTHHHHRREEEEEE.  I had uttered "Poor little slug" to the thin cousin while he laughed his way down that toilet.  "My children will be back to avenge me, you strumpet!" he gurgled.

You won this time.  One of those little beasts pooped some eggs out on the shower curtain liner too.  WE ARE LIVING IN THE JUNGLE.  The Slug Shower Jungle of Suburbia.

So do you think everyone in our house is just relaxed as pie to go into the bathroom?  Even Suki is like "nah, I'll just drink the water from the bowl you leave me every morning."  Why's that, Suki?  You don't want aqua a la slug?  You know, I don't think she's much of a huntress anyway.  Cinnamon keeps psyching me out, making me think he's done with that wild behavior of leaving me dead animals, and then he does something like LEAVE ME A HEADLESS BIRD.  Does he have to be such a...an animal sometimes?

And dear lord, where was the head?  That bird haunted me.  I remember when I opened up the door to let Cin in and I saw the dead bird next to him,  he looked at the bird, then at me with this look that said, "Are you going to thank me, or..."

RIP the good ole days.  (This picture was taken October 14, 2009.  We hadn't had Suki for more than a few days and after I got out of the shower she hopped right in and started licking the tub, much to my disgust.  I sent this photo to Jesse via my phone.)


OKAY BYE BYE