“Quietly Hostile”: The Diary of a Plumbing Disaster and Identity Crisis
So, in the grand saga of “people who have really cool jobs,” we have Samantha Irby, who has stepped up to the mic to share her latest masterpiece, “Quietly Hostile.” You know, just your typical self-help book about explosive digestive issues and a dash of urban dread—because nothing screams personal growth like contemplating your life choices while stuck on the porcelain throne.
Imagine having a deep philosophical discussion about life, love, and the perils of public bathroom stalls with someone while sipping overpriced organic coffee. Sounds riveting, right? Samantha Irby, the modern-day Crohn’s disease bard, chatted with a fellow human about her hometown (Did you know it exists? Groundbreaking, I know!) and somehow pivoted to the hot topic of conquering gastrointestinal woes. It’s like Thanksgiving dinner with your eccentric aunt—one moment you’re discussing why great-grandma’s gravy is a historical crime, and the next, you’ve entered a conversation about your last trip to the ER because, surprise! Apparently, your body doesn’t like raw kale.
Irby, who may very well be the least qualified self-help guru, retells her pandemic reclusivity as if she was narrating a horror movie. You know the kind where every creak of the floor makes you get the heebie-jeebies? Yeah, that’s how she felt going outside after being cooped up like a parrot in a neglectful pet shop. Spoiler alert: she lost her mind. Also, people were absolutely NOT co-operating on wearing masks, which led to a full-blown season of “Reality TV: Is That Even What We’re Doing?”
In a twist worthy of the finest soap operas, Samantha’s greatest horror during the pandemic was not a dreadful disease or lack of toilet paper. Nope! It was the overwhelming anxiety of mistakenly opening the door marked “horrible person” and being trapped in a public embarrassment showdown for all eternity. Who knew just existing could feel like a schoolyard standoff at a Starbucks? “Excuse me, sir, did you just give me side-eye because I chose oat milk? I’ll fight you for that lack of judgment!”
Now, let’s talk about her literary inspirations. Apparently, she takes cues from the likes of David Sedaris and Chelsea Handler—both comedic geniuses who’ve made a career out of turning awkward experiences into knee-slapping stories. But! Samantha’s secret sauce involves the wisdom that if your life’s a dumpster fire, just throw in a few jokes and call it a day. Seriously, folks: honesty really is the best policy…unless you’re referring to dietary restrictions while dating.
And speaking of dating, hold the phone. Irby recounts that her biggest fan demographic? White girls. Imagine that—she’s basically the Beyoncé of the basic brunch crowd. What she fails to mention, however, is how they probably only read the book while attempting to juggle a green smoothie and their desire to eat pancakes—classic!
Oh, but the real kicker is her relationship with “Judge Mathis.” Yes, THAT Judge Mathis! She casually mentioned that she started a newsletter about him—and no, it’s not a true crime expose. It’s a casual entrepreneurship, a pandemic pastime of reminiscing about courtroom drama and questionable family disputes. Hollywood called and they were totally into it! But of course, Samantha was too busy plotting the next phase of her self-deprecation world tour.
And here we have the pièce de résistance: Irby’s book is chock-full of our most cherished bodily functions, with a title that quite literally screams “diarrhea” right from the jacket. Because nothing says “read me” quite like a proudly displayed toilet-related disaster—everyone loves a poop story…until it’s coming from their own mouth during a first date!
So there you have it, folks! Grab your copy of “Quietly Hostile” if you’re ready to join Samantha on a roller coaster of digestive woes and laugh at the chaotic beauty that is life. Perfect for the beach, the bathroom, or when you’re just laying in bed wondering how the world can be so ridiculous and yet make so much sense. Because in Samantha Irby’s world, we’re all just a bunch of terrified introverts waiting for the next bathroom break!
🚨 Disclaimer Alert! 🚨
Before you start drafting conspiracy theories on your fridge with magnets—just know this is satire! For the actual, no-nonsense, non-bong-infused version of this news story, head over to , lit.newcity.com (where facts wear suits and don’t tell jokes).
We highly recommend reading both versions—one for the truth, and one for the chaotic energy you didn’t know you needed. 😆🔥
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