I have ants. Again. Badly:
This is partly a result of my cats being messy eaters and partly a result of my weekends-only-dish-doing (working grad student, that’s how it goes!) and partly a result of it being way too cold to take out the recycling.
It should be noted, however, that I have enough ants that I brought some to work with me today. This is gross.
Why don’t cats eat ants? I have seen Simon eat a live millipede. And Ruby chases everything, including water drops in the shower (post-shower, of course)! Ants must taste bad or something.
I recently made a gingerbread house with a friend. It’s super cute. Look:
Luckily, I insisted she’d take it home (because Ruby would probably lick it, which is true). Of course, had I kept it, she’d probably now be licking ants.
When you get a bladder infection, urine trouble.
If you don’t have an advent calendar – you know, one of those ones with chocolate hiding behind cardboard flaps that you can get at the dollar store – you’re doing it wrong.
My sister is doing it wrong.
Me: Want a chocolate? I’m like two weeks behind.
Megan: No, I don’t like those.
Me: Here, you can have the 8th.
Megan: They taste like wax.
Me: They taste like your childhood!
Megan: I don’t remember my childhood tasting like ass.
Me: Mmmm a drum…
A friend got some vinegar in his ear, and now he suffers from pickled hearing.
My dad likes pickled herring. I don’t think I will ever understand why.
I recently decided to go vegetarian again.
I am a rather unique brand of vegetarian… the kind that eats meat. I try to eat meat just enough to keep it in my system so that when I have to eat meat or really, really want to (I will never, ever turn down a gyro), it won’t make me sick. My draw towards vegetarianism is almost purely environmental — I love meat, I don’t have a problem with eating things that have blood and guts, but I’m really not cool with how many resources are wasted in the way we get meat to the table.
So I plan on chowing down on flesh about once every two weeks this time, on average. In the meantime, I am eating a lot more eggs.
Eggs are far from my favorite food. This is because I think they are gross. Many ways we serve eggs involve them still being runny, and I am just not wild about runny things. If I am going to eat something runny that came out of something living, I’m going to opt first for syrup, and then for a nice, thick medium-rare steak. But in general — if it oozes, I’d rather not put it in my mouth.
Ok, now — disclaimer for this next section: I know this may not be perfectly anatomically correct. But if you think about it, it really makes a lot of sense. Also, I apologize for making you think about it.
The thing that really makes the runny-ness of eggs completely unacceptable is the notion that if you really consider it, eating an egg is essentially eating chicken period. Think about it — it’s all the nutrients for the non-entity to grow into an entity packaged up neatly in a little white shell. Somewhere in there is even the part that could have been a baby had that whole fertilization deal happened. The only real difference between an egg and the goo that oozes out of half of the world with the cycling of the moon is the packaging. The tidy white shell allows you to crack open the egg, dump all of the contents at once into a well-greased pan, and fry it up.
There are some things you are not supposed to talk about in polite company. This is one of them. But why is it that people blush and say ridiculous things like “sanitary napkins” (what does that even mean? Aren’t all napkins sanitary?), but nobody ever flinches when they hear ‘egg carton’?
Why do we present dust bunnies to children as cute?
Here are some facts for you:
The average person sheds about 1.5 million skin cells per hour and perspires one quart every day even while doing nothing, says Tierno. The skin cells accumulate in our pillows and mattresses and dust mites grow and settle.
If that’s not gross enough for you, Tierno explains that a mattress doubles in weight every 10 years because of the accumulation of human hair, bodily secretions, animal hair and dander, fungal mold and spores, bacteria, chemicals, dust, lint, fibers, dust mites, insect parts, and a variety of particulates, including dust mite feces. After five years, 10% of the weight of a pillow is dust mites. This is what you’re inhaling while you sleep. (source)
I doubt the quart of perspiration a day accounts for the notion that the rate at which I sweat must increase as I manipulate my ever heavier mattress.