Tag Archives: gross

Jul19

In this case, I hope it gets worse before it gets better

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In this case, I hope it gets worse before it gets better

Upon considering the ingredients of my homemade ant bait, and the massive, MASSIVE swarm of ants around the baits I set out, I am concerned that I may have concocted some kind of bacon grease ant beer powder. With yeast, cornmeal, baking powder and bacon grease…seems like once it all ferments we’ll it’s going to be beer powder.  And because when I woke up this morning, the number of ants all up ons the baits had, like, quintupled.  So much of the baits had been taken that they were starting to erode around the bases, tiny little bacon grease ant beer powder granules dusting the back of my sink.  (The parts that weren’t swarmed by hoards of drunken ants, that is.)

It’s like EVERY SINGLE ANT IN INDIANA IS ON MY KITCHEN SINK.  It’s like the word got out last night and they’re all, PARTY AT THE WOESTMANS!

And I most certainly can’t wipe the back of the sink down or I’ll destroy their scent trails.  So I have water spots, fingerprints, dishwashing splatters, ant beer crumbles, a few strewn ant carcasses here and there (ant beer poisoning casualties perhaps), and eleventy billion ants in hot pursuit of whatever I made for them yesterday morning.

Due to the dramatic increase and not so much at all decrease in the ant swarmage, I would have to go on record to say I am Skeptical At Best about this ant killer remedy.  But I’ll give it another couple of days.

If my baits last that long.

I put out 7 yesterday, SEVEN!!!!, and they are all swarmed and decomposing due to the sheer volume of ant nibblers.

In my imagination, here’s what’s happening in the ant nest within the next two hours: KABLOOEY.  

And then they’ll all be dead and not on my sink anymore.

Feb24

I ate a raw egg yolk

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I ate a raw egg yolk

I contracted some kind of deathly virus when I was visiting Iowa over the weekend.  My throat is really, really sore but since I haven’t run a fever or anything I figure it’s just something I will eventually get over.  Par-tay.  Taking care of a newborn is eleventy billion times more complicated when you’re trying not to hack/sneeze/cough on her face.

Currently Joey’s her singing a made up song about how she never lifts a hand to help around the house.  The song is totally true.

Anyway, last night I was suffering through my sore throat by pathetically laying on the couch watching Survivor when my friend Angel suggested, via text message, that I swallow a raw egg yolk.  Because of course that’s the first thing anyone ever thinks of when suggesting home remedies for sore throats, right?

Well, turns out that swallowing egg yolks is a bona fide old-timey remedy.  It’s called something gross like Gogol-Mogol and you’re basically supposed to just whip the egg yolk up, add some sugar and some brandy and toss the thing back.

After about ten minutes of going back and forth, during which time Angel offered me $1.00 to do it. So the stakes raised drastically and I decided why the heck not.  I should just eat the yolk and see what happened to me.  Who knows, maybe I would feel so much better.

I went to the kitchen and started mixing up my Gogol-Mogol mixture.  We didn’t have any brandy, so I left it out and just added sugar.  That turned the yolk into a soupy, thick mess.  In retrospect I should have put water or something in place of the brandy, because as I stared down into the dish with my yellow, oozy, and now very grainy egg yolk (from all that sugar), I started to feel queasy.

The yolk mixture was so thick I couldn’t just pound it back like I had originally been planning to.

It looked like I was going to have to use a spoon.  This was going to take more than one swallow.

“Come in here and do it so I can watch!” Joey yelled from the den.

I told him I’d better stay in the kitchen by the sink in case I threw up.  He agreed.  And then suddenly he didn’t want to watch me eat the yolk anymore.

I filled my spoon full of yolk and dumped it in my mouth.  Then I tried to force myself to swallow.  I couldn’t do it.  It wasn’t that the yolk tasted bad (it didn’t, surprisingly) it was just so….SLIMY.  And THICK.  I counted to three…and swallowed.

It went down with only a slight quivering of the gag reflex.  Because the whole time I was trying to force myself to swallow all I could think about was the fact that I was eating Essence of Baby Chicken.

I wish I could say the second spoonful went down as easily.  And it wasn’t even nearly as large as the first one, but I did find myself coughing as I swallowed.  It stayed down though.  Gotta get my dollar.

By the third spoonfull?

I was totally gagging over the sink.

It was disgusting.

And I’m sure that if I HAD thrown it up, it would have had the opposite effects of whatever  benefits the egg yolk would have had.

But, good for me, I managed to keep it down.  Angel better not renege on the dollar.  If she does, I’m showing up at her house with egg yolks.  Although for the rest of the evening whenever I thought about it I’d start gagging again.

This morning, my throat still hurts.  Pretty sure I’m not throwing back any more egg yolks for $1.00, though.

Now, if you pay me $10.00…I might consider it.

Dec29

Keepin’ it real

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Keepin’ it real

This afternoon, I was sitting on the couch with Analie on my lap reading The Laughing Dragon, which is my favorite childhood story book of all time, when I heard a very strange sound.

It was rude, actually.

She was making horrific tooting sounds, and they smelled just as bad as they sounded.

I told her we’d just keep reading about Hojo until she finished her bidness and then, suddenly, I noticed that not only were things rotten in the state of Indiana, but Analie’s onesie was slowly getting wetter and wetter in the front.  It was…SO gross.

In my haste to get up and change her, The Laughing Dragon fell to the floor, half finished.

With some difficulty, I managed to extract Analie’s “Daddy’s Girl” onesie off her and only got poo smeared all over her arm.  I considered this to be a small victory considering how much poo was on the onesie in proportion to the size of Analie’s body.

She lay on the changing table freshly diapered, cooing, smiling, kicking, and wiggling happily.

SO CUTE.

Because of the massive blowout and poo smear on her arm, it was necessary to bathe the baby as part of cleanup.  She isn’t the biggest fan of baths, but every time it gets a little bit better.  (I’ve figured out that she likes ‘em very warm.)  I dressed her in a onesie and an infant gown and just then, Daddy got home.

We never did get to finish the story about Hojo.

Later, after we had dinner, she started spitting up on Joey.  First she nailed his black dress shirt, then she soaked his t-shirt, and her infant gown.  Joey took off the infant gown and, once again, she was down to just wearing a onesie.  Then, she spit up all over Joey’s chest.  But fortunately he wasn’t wearing a shirt this time and he could just wipe himself up with her cute “Love You” burp cloth.

She’s finishing up her second course of dinner now, and it’ll be interesting to see how many times she spits up this time.

 

Apr29

Sometimes having a vivid imagination is a real kick in the pants

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Sometimes having a vivid imagination is a real kick in the pants

This morning, I was running late (naturally, and now that I write this I’m running even later) so I rushed through my morning routine.  I finished up my shower and was applying the 17 layers of moisturizers and toners to my face (which…none of them work, ever) when I realized the toilet paper roll was just about killed.

I was the last person in the bathroom, so I could just hear Joey crowing from the bathroom later that I had killed it earlier without filling it.  So I stopped my moisturizer application and dug out a roll of TP and set it on the counter.  I always get really nervous changing the roll of toilet paper, because that boingy thing that holds the roll makes me uncomfortable.  I hate it when it breaks apart because I always get the shivers that the spring part is going to go shooting off and land in the toilet.

Maybe this doesn’t bother anyone in the world except for me. And if that’s the case, I understand.

Anyway, I was changing the roll (with great care) and keeping my eye on the toilet just in case the spring went flying over there, when I noticed a spider spinning its web on the inside of the toilet.

“THERE IS A SPIDER MAKING ITS WEB ON THE TOILET,” I yelled to Joey.  I always prefer it if he saves me from insects and arachnids.

“You’ll probably be fine,” he hollered back.

Then, just as he said that, the spider fell off its web and into the water.

“HE HAS FALLEN INTO THE WATER AND DIED!” I yelled again.

“See, I told you it would be OK,” replied Joey.

Then I went back to moisturizer application.  And my imagination started working overtime.

I imagined the tiny spider hit the water, and instead of dying, it turned into this huge, hairy tarantula and came climbing out of the toilet and was like 2 feet wide and 1 foot fall, and it was coming quickly across the bathroom floor towards me, to eat me and kill me.  Probably not in that order, actually.  He’d probably kill me first.

I’m sure you can understand how being in the bathroom made me feel very nervous after that, and I kept sending sideways glances at the toilet, just to make sure that no tarantulas were climbing out of it.

Now you all probably think I’ve truly lost my last marble.

But my hair is still soaking wet, massively curly, and in my face right now.  So I have to go suck it up enough to go back in the bathroom.  Maybe if I imagine that the floor is covered in Tarantula RAID and it will die when it touches it?

I really shot myself in the foot on this one.

Apr13

Attack of the Sugar Ants

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Attack of the Sugar Ants

For the last couple of weeks, we have had mysterious ant issues in our kitchen.  They were EVERYWHERE and totally grossing us out, so we bought ant baits and stuck them around our kitchen.

Several days later, the ant issues had not improved.  Not one little bit.

I cleaned my kitchen with the normal intensity, spraying down all surfaces and wiping them well, but I could not figure out where all the creepy little ants were coming from!  I finally decided to ignore them, since I had baited, cleaned the counters, and couldn’t find any piles of sugar laying around that was attracting them.  I had done what I could, and it hadn’t worked yet, so it was time to just pretend they weren’t there until they went away.

On Saturday, Joey was home DOING THE CLEANING (isn’t he great?!) from a very detailed, comprehensive list I made him.  We use biodegradable, natural, non-toxic cleaners that have names that really, really confuse Joey, so I knew I had to be detailed.  It had things like “use Wood for Good on the kitchen table, all bookshelves and wood surfaces” and “Ecover is for  the bathroom sink, use with a scrub brush” and “Clear Power is the glass cleaner”.

I received a phone call from my rockstar husband on Saturday morning.

“I found the source of the ants,” he said.

“OH?” I asked.

“Yeah…apparently in the top cupboard in the kitchen there was a blob of Karo syrup that had leaked…and the ants were all over it. Hundreds of them.  They had made a trail up the kitchen wall and were going along the ceiling and into the pantry…but I can’t find them in the pantry.  I think they’re actually in the wall.”

Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness…

Our top cupboards are super high.  I can barely reach to put things inside them, much less see what has spilled on the bottoms of them!  If I want to get anything that’s along the back wall of the cupboard, I have to climb on the counter.  Who knows how long that Karo syrup had been spilled!

So, Joey is amazing, he called the apartment maintenance people and ordered an ant exterminator.  They told him to remove EVERYTHING from the cupboards and counter tops, which he did.  (It is now all over my table and chairs.)

We are unsure when the ant exterminators will come.  The maintenance scheduler was not exactly helpful.  “It could be tomorrow, it could be next week,” she told him.

So, for the foreseeable future, I have no kitchen table.

I do have hundreds of ants, however.

Joey cleaned up the pile of Karo syrup in the cupboard and put all the ant baits up there, in the hopes that the ants will kill themselves off before the exterminator comes to do it.  I’m not sure how he’s going to deal with their nest which is IN MY PANTRY WALL.

Oh, I cannot think about it.  It works me up too much.

I feel like a horrible housekeeper now.

Feb26

Carbonated Milk

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Carbonated Milk

Whenever Joey’s feeling like a punkface and he wants to send me, wailing, into the fetal position on the floor…all he has to say is “carbonated milk”.

GROSS.  I CAN BARELY TYPE IT.

I have a really sensetive, um…well, the words almost make me throw up.  Every time.  Even just looking at them on the screen.

Milk is disgusting in the first place, I have a personal vendetta against it – that stuff made me sick for years as a child.  I can’t even drink chocolate milk.  Or Egg Nog.  Or look at milk.

But carbonated?!

That’ll put me over the edge every single time.

I don’t know why I thought of that…but I felt like sharing.  Maybe I’ll be more impervious to “carbonated milk” comments going forward now that I’ve typed it like four times.

Jul18

Henry, Henry, Henry

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Henry, Henry, Henry
Last night after I picked Joey up from the airport (HE’S HOME!!) Henry decided to jump in the tub again.  He’s so weird, he hates the tub when it’s bath time, but apparently he just loves drain water and that’s enough to keep him comin’ back for more.
"What. I like it in here."
“What. I like it in here.”
"I'd rather drink bathtub drain water than any other water in the world, including the stuff in my water bowl"
“I’d rather drink bathtub drain water than any other water in the world, including the stuff in my water bowl”
Caught.
Caught. (And he looks insane, which may explain the fixation with drain water.)
This one's for Brother, mostly because Henry's sticking out his tongue.
This one’s for Brother, mostly because Henry’s sticking out his tongue.
And right after I snapped this picture, he managed to bump the drain stopper and it closed on his tongue, which scared him, and he dove out of the bathtub. I think the drain water has lost its luster.
And right after I snapped this picture, he managed to bump the drain stopper and it closed on his tongue, which scared him, and he dove out of the bathtub. I think the drain water has lost its luster.
Jan28

The Gross Dinner

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The Gross Dinner

I really like to bake and cook. If I had a hobby, it would probably be that. I got the Rachael Ray cookbook for Christmas, so Joey and I have been experimenting with new recipes lately. I tried one just the other day that, had I been of a rational state of mind when planning my menu, I probably would have stayed away from. It was called…

Lamb Meatballs in Tomato Mint Sauce

Just the name is gross. I mean, Joey and I like lamb…but…

I thawed my lamb the night before and, when I began making dinner for the evening the recipe name turned my stomach just a bit. But I pressed on thinking that it truly couldn’t be as bad as all that.

As I mixed the slimy meatballs the smell began to overpower me. It smelled…really bad.

“Smells great, Love!” I heard Joey holler positively from the study. I decided not to ruin my chances and tell him how disgusting I thought dinner was going to be. After all, maybe it would improve once it cooked?

I’ll spare you the blow-by-blow and just tell you that it went downhill very fast from that point.

The end result wound up looking like murdered lamb (with all the tomatoes globbed in the saround the meatballs) and smelled somewhere between dirty socks and old garbage. It tasted worse. Joey tried to put on a happy face but, after two bites he put his fork down slowly and said, “I’m sorry Jenna…but this is really gross.”

I let out a huge sigh of relief. “I KNOW! It smelled horrible when I was making it and it’s nauseating me just to look at it!”

“I’m so sorry!” Joey bemoaned, “I know you worked for a really long time on this!”

“I don’t even care, just as long as we don’t have to finish eating it,” I said, carrying my plate over to the sink.

“Take a picture so the blog people can see how gross this is,” I said. Joey got his camera and happily obliged. Unfortunately you can’t smell it when it’s a picture, only see it. But try to imagine dirty socks and old garbage when you look at this mess and you’ll be right about there.Tomatoes, mint and lamb are a VERY BAD COMBINATION. Don’t let anyone fool you.

Jan24

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow

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Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow

I made it through the horrible dentist’s appointment alive. Barely.

See, the Novocaine didn’t deaden all my nerves. They even gave me an extra shot after I told them I could still feel my lip. Granted, things were definitely deadened, but I could pretty much feel them drilling the whole time, which meant I lay there in the dentist’s chair shaking like a little leaf in a stiff Fall breeze. Four cavities is a lot to have done at once even when the Novocaine does work its magic.

So with four dentists’ tools, two hands and one jaw-propper in my mouth I tried not to move and stared into the glaringly bright dentist’s lamp trying to think about nice things like lambs and puppies. The hygienist would pat my arm and say, “We’re almost done…no, wait, I’m sorry, there’s still one more” and comforting things like that.

An hour later, it was over.

The unfortunate part was that the dentist had been yanking on my cheek so hard to try to get to the cavity on my lower gums that my mouth refused to open more than about a centimeter. So I headed straight to the chiropractor to see if he could adjust my jaw.

“WOW,” he said, when he felt the muscle knot in my cheek. “This is really bad.”

So he whipped out a little plastic thingy which he put on his index finger and said, “I’m going to have to try to massage the cheek muscle from the inside of your mouth. Do you think you can handle that?”

Did I have much choice?

I gingerly opened my poor mouth as far as I could and tried not to bite my chiropractor as he attempted to get my locked up cheek muscle to release. It hurt like crazy. Three attempts later, I could open my mouth about an inch, which is enough to do just about anything, really. (Except, I’m finding, eat my lunch. Food keeps falling out my mouth and onto my desk, which is embarrassing.)

Oh, did I mention I stopped by my dermatologist to give them some of my blood, too? This morning has been a real pain. All told, I just want to go back to bed.

My face is still numb…why couldn’t my NERVES have been numb?!

Jan16

Fingernails

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Fingernails

So I have this weird pet-peeve/paranoia about fingernails. I hate, hate, hate it when they start getting long enough to see the white part, but I also think my fingers look slightly less like little pink sausages if my fingernails are a big longish.

The problem is that for the last three weeks I’ve been trying to grow out my nails. But whenever I look closely at them I get the willies and think germs!, unnatural!, ugly! or something else equally negative. But when I just glance down at my hands I think Hmm, slightly more elegant than normal…

I sit here and ponder just how many germs are collecting under my fingernails. How it would really hurt if I broke one off. Wondering why fingernails have a certain “fingernail” smell and wishing mine would stop. Retraining myself from rushing to the bathroom and cutting the beastly things off.

Problem is…I hate cutting my fingernails because it sounds terrible and I always feel like a serial killer. I read a book when I was a young and impressionable pre-teen where the killer type guy put fingernail clippings in an envelope and mailed them to his victims.

As you can see, I have issues. All morning I have been waffling–do I cut them, or do I not cut them?!

I can no longer take it; I am going to cut them. Sorry Joey…