Stuff not worth blogging about but I will anyway because that’s how I roll

If you have clicked “ignore this person” on a forum because their comments are too obnoxious or offensive to continue to be subjected to, there is never, ever, neverever any reason to click “show post anyway.” That person has not, in the interim, evolved into someone with witty, insightful commentary to share.

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On a related note, it is almost always inappropriate to discuss your HAWT SEX life in public, and it doesn’t get more public than the internet. Most porn stars are more discreet about their personal lives than certain authors on Amazon forums. It doesn’t convince me you’re bold and fearless enough to write steamy sex scenes. It convinces me you don’t know squat about intimacy, which is kind of important to readers who don’t skip all the pages that don’t have intercourse on them.

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My bath pouf came undone. It was like the Bed Bath & Beyond version of a joke can of mixed nuts—a 40-foot mesh snake exploding all over the shower.

Kinda hard to wash with, incidentally.

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I bought a new bath pouf, which was sitting right on top of the grocery bag. I went out to the car to get another load of groceries. When I came back in the house, the pouf was no longer on top of that bag. I found it in the living room.

Bath poufs evidently are the mortal enemies of cocker spaniels.

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It just occurred to me that Demon Dog is an English cocker spaniel, while “pouf” is clearly French. Hence, the enmity.

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At the grocery store, I saw a brand of mildew remover. Right next to it, same brand, was mildew root remover.

Who uses that first product? “Oh, I don’t want to kill the poor mildew, I just want it to be less unsightly.”

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Speaking of mildew, I can very rarely find a head of cauliflower that isn’t covered with the stuff (or whatever that funky black crud soaking into cauliflower is).  This week, the cauliflower was beautiful, pristine as freshly fallen snow. I bought all of it. I will be eating cauliflower for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks all week.

I tell you that so you will understand the excitement with which I prepared to make dip in which to plunge crispy cauliflower bits—and my squeal of horror when I popped the top off the sour cream and opened a hellish tub of lumpy wrongness.

Apparently, when my grocery store moved everything in the store in an obvious campaign to send me into an OCD coma, they moved the sour cream from the bin at the bottom of the dairy case up one shelf to where the cottage cheese traditionally resided and moved the cottage cheese, which  is in an identical container, down to what has been, for the past decade, the home of sour cream.

You win this round, Publix, but this battle is far from over.

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How are your wars progressing this week?