Tag: almost deadly

A prank, a rat and the smell of burnt rubber

myidioticbliss1 Comment

In our house you would be wise to always be wary of the next scare or prank. We keep things lively around here.

This last April 1st I had the ultimate excuse to pull off a good one. It was a heart stopper. Maybe when my poor mom forgives me I will share. Until then you have to wait.

Today’s latest episode was maybe the best of recent. I pranked myself.

Yes, you read that correctly. I pranked myself.

Let me start from the beginning.

It’s spooky season. Well maybe not actually yet on the calendar but the retail season is creeping in. I’m thrilled. I’ve already started my collection.  It’s going to be my pleasure to scare the diapers off some trick or treaters this Halloween.

I found some yard stuff, a few pumpkins, witches, bats, skeletons and spiders.

I even found a little rat skeleton for under $5. That one arrived quickly and screamed for a good prank. It seemed unreasonable to put him in a tote for 2 months before he could live his best after life.

I quickly removed his tags and looked around. Where could he hide to get the best scream? The oven? Nope, preheating a fake rat seems like a bad idea. Fridge? Too quickly found. These people are always in there for something. The microwave! Yes! I would be making dinner that evening and going to work the next day. It was going to be a good one. I wouldn’t be there to see it but I would leave the security camera on and I would get a text cussing me.

I just had to wait.

Fast forward to the weekend. I had not received a text all week. Nobody had found him. I had actually forgotten my little friend was lurking behind a microwave door.

I made a cup of coffee and went about my Saturday morning routine. I drank that mug and made a second. As per usual I was distracted by my to do list and my 2nd batch of magic bean juice got cold.

You know where this is going.

I went to the microwave above the stove and opened the door. Half drank mug in one hand and the other on the door handle.

The light illuminated and there it was, my forgotten rodent, now at face level.

My eyes got big, I gasped and took an Olympic dream style jump backwards. My hand that had previously been holding the door handle moved to my chest and the hand holding the mug went flying outward, still clutching for dear life. The coffee freely splashed out like a paper towel commercial in slow motion. There was nobody around to see it. The security cameras had been disabled when I woke up.

This prank had just gone unnoticed. Something had to be done about this.

I gathered myself. I closed the microwave door. I straighted my hair and gently placed my now mostly empty mug on the counter.

I called for my wife to come and help, something was wrong.

It wasn’t working.

Little did she know the microwave was fine, my prank was actually the thing that needed her attention.

She sighed from the den out of sight. Asked if I was serious. I am always serious about my coffee … and my pranks. I answered yes.

She walked to the kitchen, looked at the microwave. Time clearly visible, it has power.

She started to push buttons.

I started to panic.

Who doesn’t open the damn door? To see what the problem is?

The light came on and the faint whirl of the fan started and the turntable started. My rat was going for a whirl! I stared wide eyed toward the microwave again. Her back was turned to the horror happening behind her and she was looking at me like I was an idiot. She didn’t turn around until 3 seconds later when a distinct “metal in the microwave” sound shot out. Sparks were flying. I thought about dropping for cover behind the kitchen island.

She opened the microwave door and grabbed the scorched skeleton by the tail. I had failed.

I couldn’t look.

She was not amused. “Why is there a rat skeleton in the microwave?”

Just like this but with a burnt mark on the tail. đŸ”¥ Oops.

I had lost this round and confessed. The rat had been in the microwave for days and I had forgotten. I had placed it there to scare one of them and managed only to scare myself.

I have learned a few things from this and I wanted to share.

1. A good prank is a quick one.

2. An elephant never forgets but a 40 something over worked mom will..

3. Rubber rats with wire inside will catch fire in the microwave.

This mishap will not stop me. Even if my kitchen really stinks now. I vow to keep pranking my family (or myself) and to live my best life.

I also plan to continue to share my adventures for your entertainment. You’re welcome.

Never trust a heated seat

myidioticbliss1 Comment

Decided to take the wife’s car to work today. Not because the cute little convertible would be top down, tunes up.

No.

It was chilly today and I wasn’t feeling the cruisin’ in the little red soft top thing. I drove it because I failed, yet again, to put gas in my fuel guzzling V8 SUV engine. It was literally on E when I went to leave.

I had no choice really but to take her car. Call it lazy if you will but I didn’t have time to go get gas and get to work on time.

Fast forward to thr end of the day. 10 hours later. It’s dark and it’s cold and I just needed to make it 40 minutes to home.

Just 20 minutes on the freeway and 20 on back roads then I’d bein my driveway.

So I get in, I figure out where the switches and buttons are in the dark and I roll out. I remebered there are heated seats … yeah … bun warmers.

Sounded like a solid plan.

I reached into the tiny space along side the seat and pushed the button to begin the warm up count down. “Soon” … I thought to myself “I shall be toasty and warm and speeding home.”

It was a good plan. There’s just one little thing.

Her car shakes a little at high speeds. Like something might fall off it and your life could be in immediate danger. Like an explosion of parts at 75 mph and nowhere to escape. Like a go cart you built with your friends with duct tape and youthful dreams.

The heat works though. I figured it out the hard way.

While I was both hands gripping the wheel for dear life the seat was heating rapidly. To say my rear and thighs were warm would be an understatement. It was getting hot up in there. Like HOT. I was starting to worry my leggings would catch fire.

“How hot does this thing get? Wtf!”

Christmas song on the radio, something about roasting chestnuts on an open fire. I start to worry about my lady bits. I wonder if I will still need to wax if my pubic hair melts off. I’m serious. It was really, really burning down there.

All the while I can’t really lift my thighs from the flaming bucket of hot coal because that would mean taking my foot off the gas. Something I dare not do for fear the car will just fall apart right there in the road. I thought about reaching one hand down to find the itty button to turn off the hell fire but I couldn’t take my hands off the wheel. I didn’t want to release the death grip. What if the steering wheel rattled off? It could happen.

So there I was. Sweating it out to some Country Christmas on the radio, hoping that the strange smell was from the Taco Bell I left in the car at lunch and not the fat melting off my thighs. Which, let’s be real probably smells the same. I don’t have an ass and thunder thighs like this from filling up on carrot sticks. If I am ever on an island alone with a group of people they should eat me first. If you are what you eat I’m prob the first ever meat steak that tastes like freaking cheese fries .

So I finally did it. I made it to the off ramp. At the red light I found the button and turned off the seat heat. I lifted each leg and butt cheek to release the steam and wiped the sweat from my forehead. I cracked the window to let out the stench of 5 hour old taco wrappers and I made the final portion of the journey home.

Never have I ever been so glad to get out of a car. Or have a chilly butt.

Making my own sugar scrub and imagining my death scene

myidioticbliss1 Comment

We went to the beach about 2 weeks ago and for the last few days my gorgeous tan has started to peel like glue on a preschoolers fingers.

As I reached for more lotion I wondered how hard it would be to make a scrub.

I’m a tall girl and not tiny. I’ve got curves in the right places (plus some, whatever). The point is you won’t see me buying enough fancy scrub for my whole body. They don’t sell tubs of the stuff big enough anyway.

I did a little search and *voila* a recipe with simple enough ingredients I could probably whip it up and scrub up these flaky legs.

It couldn’t hurt. I mean what’s the worst that could happen?

I grabbed the big container of coconut oil and a spoon. As soon as the spoon touched the smooth white surface it stopped. The stuff is solid. So I think to myself I will microwave it. Pop it in and look for the sugar.

By the time I realized the container was still in the microwave I had found a bowl, measured sugar, spilled some, wiped it up and wondered to myself where the coconut oil went. Ooops.

I get it out, it’s no longer solid but a clearing mess with white globby things of unmelted goop floating around. I scoop the goop chunks and start stirring it in the sugar.

It smells fainternet-meme-of-cat-at-spa-with-cucumbers-on-eyes-and-wearing-a-bath-robefabulous. I start feeling crafty and wonder if I could be famous for sugar scrubs one day. It could happen.

I don’t remember what the recipe called for but I thought it was about half and half so I kept eyeballing sugar and oil scoops until I thought it was just right. I put half into a cute little jar and the other half in an empty plastic container to take to the bathroom with me. One can never be too thrifty.

Plus we only had one tiny jar.

I was feeling extra fancy so I lit the beach scented candle and started the bath.

I perched on the toilet and grabbed a little scrub and started to rub it on my legs. It wasn’t quite liquid, not quite solid, but definitely messy. Some dropped on the floor to make little sugar splats and the rest coated my shins like a sour gummy candy.

I thought it best to probably get over the tub so not to make a mess. I tried to balance with no such luck. My one foot landed into the super scalding running water. In my genius I jump in with the second foot because balancing wasn’t working out.

* pro-tip: your oiled up hands will not hold you up on linoleum. 

I hurry to the front of the tub and turn the water to cold, at this point getting out of the tub seems more dangerous than boiling to death in it.

Remember those dropped sugar globs? Death waiting. I’m not going out there yet.

I get the water just right and settle in. I smoothed the scrub all over my legs and it feels so heavenly I think I should do as much of me as possible.

There is now coconut oil in my eyeball. How does this even happen?

The bathroom is really starting to get a tropical feel. I had closed the door but not turned on the fan so it was getting really steamy. Really stuffy.

Suffocating really.

My entire body is covered in oil and my pores can’t breathe. My lungs are filling with what Yankee Candles considers the beach. This is starting to seem less and less fancy. This might have been a bad idea.

I rinse off. Actually  considering how well water rinses oil I just moved water around but we’ll say I rinsed. I drained the tub and stepped carefully onto a towel in the floor.

Then it hits me.

That light headed, I don’t think I can make it to the bathroom door, dizzy feeling. The one your mother warned you about; the sitting in a hot tub for too long kinda feeling. The one where things get fuzzy and your legs feel weak.

I consider what my dead body will look like when my wife finds me. I’ll be collapsed in a bath towel – right there in the hallway. This will not due.

I wonder if she does find me dead if she will notice my ridiculously moisturized skin.

I have my doubts.

She will probably just wonder where all the sugar went.

Bravely I made it to the bedroom and collapsed into a heap on our bed. I let my body temperature cool while searched for more scrub recipes.

Next time? Adventures in coffee grounds and safflower oil.

I just might make it big one day.

I can’t wait.