2020/08/22

TJH: Inspire – I Can Haz Anything I Wants With This

Da Goddess @ 18:24
Fork Kitty

Fork Kitty

Sometimes, playing with your flatware is almost as fun as playing with your food. Actually, combining the two is just super awesome!

Reminds me of those mod cats from the 50s and 60s.

2020/06/11

Just NO

Da Goddess @ 00:02

I’m suspicious of chin dimples. Not a cleft chin, but dimples in the chin. You know, the kind that look as if someone stuck a skewer deep into puffed up dough and you can’t see if there’s even an end to the depth of the dimple. Imagine that on your face. Or on anyone’s face. Imagine the bacteria and/or fungi living in the deep, dark recesses of that dimple. Imagine leaning in close to hear a whisper from someone with a simple full of soupy microbes and smelling the stench that comes with such a thing. Gross, isn’t it? I mean, if your belly button can collect lint and sweat and germs of all sorts, so, too, can a chin pit. And it’s on the face. Where everyone can see it, where everyone can picture the bacterial and fungal sludge simmering together to create a superbly disgusting stew of utter grossness.

So, like, y’know, I’m suspicious of chin dimples.

P.S. this does not apply to Kurt Russell, possessor of glorious dimples and a cleft chin. See? They’re two entirely separate things.

2020/04/29

Quarantine Quick Picks

Da Goddess @ 16:50

I’m working on a big booklist for you, but it’s going slow due to the fact I’m caught up in some incredible reading! Yes, only top shelf recommendations for you fine folks.

So, while I’m working on that, let me give you a couple of quick picks to brighten up your quarantine!

1. After Life – on Netflix. Ricky Gervais is, well, brilliant in both seasons 1 & 2 of this series. Six episodes, 30 minutes each…this is a heartfelt and occasionally heartbreaking series you can watch again and again. Wry, crass, bittersweet, and full of heart. Don’t second guess yourself — or me — and just watch it.

2. No Tomorrow – Netflix again. One season of a lovely little series. There’s just so much to like about the characters and the storyline. I won’t say more beyond: just watch!

3. Finally, I give you the most important recommendation of all:Cottonelle toilet paper. Listen, I’m very picky about my toilet paper. As someone with inflammatory bowel disease, let me tell you how important the right toilet paper is! After years of trial and error, I’d settled on the Kirkland (Costco) brand because it was the only TP my sore butt could handle. Then came the day I couldn’t get to Costco and had to rely on Walmart’s Great Value version. It’s the one with the blue packaging (the red isn’t worth it). And then, coronavirus hit and I had to make do with whatever my sister could get for me. That’s how Cottonelle came into my life. O!M!G! People, this is a one-ply toilet paper. ONE-PLY! So much better than most two-ply papers. And it feels like heaven. That’s right! I said it feels like heaven. And I mean that. My poor tush has personally thanked me repeatedly. It’s soft, but not too soft. It’s strong, but not in a rough way. It’s like nothing I’ve ever used before! Cottonelle, I will use every platform available to tell the world how great your toilet paper is and all I ask is for you to always make it because, otherwise, I’ll shed tears forevermore!!! Yes, three exclamation points!!! That’s how much I love you, Cottonelle!!!

Why is this so important to me? Irritable bowel syndrome, ulcerative colitis, Crohn’s disease, food poisoning, and/or whatever has you on the pot for any length of time, you need a T.P. to clean your very sensitive and frequently raw hiney. The poo can do a real number on your skin and you want something strong, but gentle. Believe you me! After the dead legs, the pain of sitting on the toilet, the cramping, gas, and the enzymes/proteins in your stool that can make you look like a res-assed baboon, repetitive wiping can tear up that fragile skin. Be kind to what’s behind…you. I usually have to add baby wipes to help clean because whether you say papier toilette, papel higiénico, papur toiled, giấy vệ sinh, туалетний папір, tuvalet kağıdı,toalettpapper, karatasi ya choo, letër higjienike, komuneko papera, paper de vàter, carta igienica, toaletni papir, necesejo-papero, tualettpaber, tisyu, vessapaperi, húskepapier, papel de baño, Klopapier, chartí ygeías, papye twalèt, wahila, WC-papír, salernispappír, páipéar leithris, papier toaletowy, aainsarhcakkuu, pepa wharepaku, kertas tanda, taratasy fidiovan, tualetinis popierius, hwajangji, impapuro zo mu musarani, kradeasabangkon, kertas jamban (Javanese, my favorite), or akwụkwọ mposi, toilet paper occasionally needs a bit of help back there.

And that’s it for today’s recommendations. Two shows to watch and the best toilet paper here on earth and also probably in heaven.

Note: I was not paid for my recommendation of Cottonelle, but I’m open to working with them if they need someone.

2020/04/21

Better to Laugh

Da Goddess @ 23:55

My frustration level has peaked. I have so many things I’d like to do, so many people I’d like to see, and many places I’d like to visit. Since none of that’s possible, it comes down to lots of tweeting, reading, TV, and movies.

Of course, now is exactly when shit hits the fan. My landlords have moved off the property and out of state. I have missed them a great deal when they drove up to Oregon to be with family. I miss their daughter’s little voice and adorable giggles. I miss hearing the baby fuss and then coo. It’s just so weird without them here.

And I now have to set up my own internet and cable. That was one of my favorite things about renting here: those were included in the rent. Now, they’re reducing my rent to make up for not providing it. But I’d rather just keep it the way it’s always been. I’m THAT horrified by having to figure it out for myself. When manlord was down to pack up the house, I got him to extend the service until they have someone move into the main house. Except, here’s the thing, internet works and cable doesn’t. I’m watching Netflix until they get it figured out.

And I’m reading a lot. Right now, my favorite site is McSweeney’s because I end up laughing for hours. Current favorite article is Frasier & Niles Tell Their Dad to Stay Home. Go read. You’ll like it.

Ta for now. I have to go look for ants. I had three extremely tiny ones show up earlier and I’m obsessed with killing any others that may exist.

2020/01/27

Mad for Plaid

Da Goddess @ 23:27

I have never seen a plant that looked like it was swathed in plaid before. But now, I can’t think of anything else.

Meet Euphorbia obesa.

Euphorbia obesa

Doesn’t it look like something created from tartan and pure imagination? I feel like this is the most Celtic plant in the world, except it’s from nowhere even close to Ireland or Scotland. Maybe it just wants to be. Perhaps its DNA test proved there was no way it could be from either country, but in a fit of pique it wrapped itself in plaid, declared itself a Celt, and has decided it will die upon this hill, no matter how many tests say it’s wrong.

I totally get this plant. I have one DNA test that says I’m 0% English, Irish, or Scottish. I have another that says 2.5%. While I’m not sure I agree with the data from the 2nd 2.5% test, I’m hoping it’s true. My little sister took a 3rd test (as in a third company different from the two I dealt with) and got a smidge of British Isles. Maybe these two separate companies are more accurate? I dunno. But I understand that plant. I understand wanting to be a part of a culture…I’m a bit mad for plaid myself.

2019/11/28

Happy Turkey Day!

Da Goddess @ 00:07

Monica with the turkey

2019/11/01

Oh Lawdy!

Da Goddess @ 12:57

I just woke up from a crazy ass dream. I was pregnant at 53 with no oven in which my bun could bake. The father was a now-deceased man who was remarkably still alive, but having his genitals burned off (not because of the baby, but because he felt he could do more “Good Works” without them). My best friend and also geriatric preggo was confined to bed with me in the desert, stuck between two worlds…like more desert or non-desert-but-still-desert-like. Bunches of other things are happening, some of which are in a restaurant. We’re being filmed for a TV show. I don’t even understand the insanity around me. Suddenly, I’m holding my baby, a baby who can’t really hear, while narrating my work in the hospital as a nurse who functions more like a waitress or a waitress who functions as a nurse. I really can’t tell. But I know I’m here only because this is where geriatric preggos go to get the best care.

After I awaken from this madness, I go to the bathroom — because needs must, natch — and sit down on a damp toilet seat. The seat is damp because WHY THE FUCK NOT?! This actually happens a few times a week (sometimes a few times a day) when weather conditions are perfect for these sort of (I’m guessing) ghostly hijinks. The inside of the lid is also full of condensation and I’m eternally grateful I’ve had no need to lean back against it because it would be COLD and I don’t need cold and damp against my skin. Especially not cold and damp against my skin from a toilet.

I’ve never had this happen with a toilet before. I’m beginning to give serious weight to the ghost argument at this point. I think it’s the same ghost pretending to be the creaky moany-groany weathervane on the roof above. The same ghost who doesn’t allow me to finish the house in any way, shape, or form.

What do you think I should offer this magnificent but mischievous spectral doer of shenanigans?

2019/10/22

Eye Roll Bladder Control

Da Goddess @ 01:31

Because my back injury sometimes wreaks havoc on the nerves that control my bladder, I occasionally find myself suddenly needing to pee. It’s not an everyday occurrence, except when it is. I’ll be sitting quietly, reading, watching TV, working on some art project, and I have the unpleasant sensation of desperately needing the loo. As you might imagine, this urgent need is in direct opposition with what my legs are sometimes capable of, thanks to the injury to my lumbar-sacral region. It all becomes an exercise in will power and sheer determination to not pee everywhere.

While this isn’t 100% effective, I’ve discovered a method of bladder control that has proven fairly reliable: the Eye Roll Bladder Control.

It’s rather tricky and sometimes even painful, but I’ve yet to leave a trail of urine from wherever I am through to the loo.

You roll your eyes up and back as hard as you can while navigating your shuffle to the toilet. You should be focusing all your attention on pulling your eyes into your head and imagining that action pulling the urinary meatus* tightly closed. Again, the entire time you’re doing this, you’re walking or scuttling to the lav. Once there, you need to summon the assistance of demons you’ve kept well fed to help you get your underwear down and (I can’t stress this part enough — I’ve forgotten this step and cleaning the bathroom in the middle of the night while in severe pain is plain awful) the toilet lid up while also continuing the eye roll and attempting to sit before all hell breaks loose. This is why you always feed your helper demons exceedingly well. They use their magic to keep you pissing IN the pot instead of ON it and the floor.

I’ve had a few occasions when I was afraid my eyes would never reappear, but they’ve always managed to come back. Thank God!

It’s moments like this that has me glad to be living alone (with Fletch and the demons, that is). Yes, I’d like to have someone who could help me with cleaning up the bathroom if, heaven forbid, I owe a little (or a lot) on the floor or dribble down the side or what have you. Mostly, I’m glad no one’s here to witness the indignities of a worsening back injury. There’s just no romance in that scenario! Absolutely none. And there are worse situations, by far!

There you have it: my method of getting to the bathroom without flooding the whole place as I do so.

What glamorous indignity do you have and how do you try to get the better of it?

* Meatus (Me-ATE-us, rhymes with he-HATE-us) = a fancy medical term for the opening of the ureter (or any other opening related to body parts).

2019/10/12

Teeny Tiny Teeth

Da Goddess @ 02:36

I can’t help but love Fletch’s teeny tiny, itty bitty teeth. They look so precious and delicate and I just want to touch them! Actually, I have touched them when he’s in a very deep sleep. I wouldn’t be able to do that while he’s awake.

Most people only think of cats with sharp…pointy…teeth*. I was that way, too. It’s what catches the eye and that’s usually enough. But with my little ginger monster…sigh. I just…and it’s so…because…sigh.

Being on my own with only Fletch at my side, I have a lot of time to simply look at and study him. There’s much to be said for examining your pet. It’s a fun, inexpensive pastime. I recommend it to everyone.

But, seriously, it’s really enjoyable for me to study my little gingersnap and commit my findings to memory and sometimes with a camera. Even if it’s a camera phone.

Don’t look at me that way. It’s a low impact, gentle, quiet, and harmless activity. Plus, it’s free. If you want more from me, you’ll need to hit my PayPal account and help finance another activity.

Oh, hey! There’s an idea! PayPal me $10 or more and give me one idea per donation and I’ll do it (documenting the activity with photos and maybe even a video). The donation should equal the average cost of whatever you chose. And don’t forget, my body is broken and I have to avoid activities that would break it further.

Eh. Probably not, huh? Yeah, I should stick with the cat thing.

* bonus points if you get that reference.

2019/07/11

Hunting License

Da Goddess @ 13:32

The spiders have been going crazy in this warmer weather and it’s been difficult to keep after them. Just when I think I have the situation under control, I’m inundated with the offspring of all the arachnids I’ve destroyed.

I can’t spray for them because of Fletch, so I’m left with physically hunting them and killing them myself. Well, Fletch does help. Unfortunately, his help is limited by his interest level, which is as consistent as that of a toddler. Again, this means it’s up to me to keep the spider population in the house to the bare minimum.

The other night, I found a rather large almost translucent whitish spider. When I smooshed it with a paper towel, there was a quite audible POP. There was also an inordinate amount of humours that issued forth from this creature. They seeped through the paper towel and it was only then that I shuddered and gagged. It was just too gross, especially couple with the POP I’d just heard.

As I dragged the body to the trash, I wondered if it was even possible for the thing to fit in the bin. Fortunately, it did. Just barely. After ten minutes of vigorous hand washing, I grabbed a spare pair of heavy duty gloves and cleaned up the carnage in the bedroom. Then I washed my hands again for another ten minutes.

It was only the next day that I learned I needed a hunting license to kill something the size of that spider. Seeing as how my downstairs neighbor and the landlords are the only ones who could’ve heard, I think I might get away with it. You won’t tell anyone else, will you? Cool cool cool.

2019/05/21

Grumble Grumble

Da Goddess @ 20:20

burnt pizza

I burnt my cheap frozen pizza. I’m still eating it, but it’s not as yummy as it should be.

I guess the charcoal crust will counteract any enjoyment I might experience during the ingestion of said food product. Is it still considered food? How much char takes it out of the food realm? If I were to leave this out by the rat trap, I’m pretty sure PETA would protest. The ASPCA would take away my cat.

Anyhow, if this is my last entry, I want you to tell my mother I love her so.

2019/03/31

Eight Turns

Da Goddess @ 18:32

Because my new home is teeny tiny, I don’t have the luxury of a dishwasher. At least, not a dishwasher run by electricity. It all comes down to me.

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not currently as diligent about getting the job done as I should be, but they always end up done eventually.

Because I’ve been trained well in the art of pathogen elimination (“we can’t be all ‘ooh! Pathogens…having a party'” as per the man who ran the food handlers’ course I had to attend to work in a restaurant back in my teens), I’ll fess up to having a bit of an obsession with making sure every dirty dish as clean as possible (this was something the former bf didn’t worry about & which often led to me rewashing anything and everything he handwashed during our time together). In order to do this, I’ve developed a ritual.

1. Hot water. Lots of it. This causes me an unwelcome level of agita as I have to turn on the water full force in order to get any heat at all to said water. I live in California. We’re notoriously droughty. But this is the only way for me to get my hot water and needs must.

2. Soap. I need an adequate amount of dish soap to ensure each item is properly cleaned. The former bf would notoriously use a single drop for at least half the entire amount of dirty dishes. That’s inadequate and one of the reasons I rewashed his work on a regular basis. As it stands, as much as I’m pinching pennies, I will NOT compromise when it comes to anything that could possibly make me sick. Food poisoning caused by poorly cleaned surfaces is not an option in my home. Thus I definitely use more than one drop of dish soap per item. I bought a large bottle of dish soap in January and, surprisingly (to the former guy), there’s still more than three quarters of that soap left (he considered anything more than that one drop wasteful). In fact, the smaller bottle I’d filled is still half full.

3. Cleaning utensil. I don’t use a sponge. I’d rather mainline pure clostridium than allow a disgusting petri dish of a sponge to touch anything my food will be in contact with. No matter how many times you run a sponge through the microwave or dishwasher (and, frankly speaking, if you have a dishwasher, just fucking use it, okay? It sanitizes beautifully), that sponge will never not be anything more than a pathogen delivery system.

So what DO I use? A brush. A glorious brush from the dollar store or IKEA. You don’t need to spend more than a buck or two for a brush. More expensive brushes don’t perform any better, they simply cost more.

Because brushes lack soft absorbent surfaces, they don’t retain bacteria or fungi the way a sponge does. That said, at least once a week, let your brush sit in bleach for a minimum of one minute to help eliminate any germs hiding in the opening where the bristles attach to the brush wand.

4. Friction is your friend. You don’t have to scrub hard if you have decent friction. Enough friction to create a good amount of bubbles. Bubbles help lift germs from the surface of whatever you’re washing, which then means they can be sent down the drain and away from your gut. (This same principle applies to handwashing as well, as does the amount of soap you use.)

5. Have some fun. Why not? If, like me, you’re stuck washing dishes by hand, it doesn’t have to completely suck. For me, it’s an opportunity to think about things or to let my imagination run wild about projects I’d like to tackle. It’s also prime music time. I put on music I enjoy and let myself just blank out for a bit…or sway or bop along with the beat.

5a. I also indulge my secret, deeply hidden OCD.

Every dish or glass gets the eight turn treatment each side. (Silverware and cooking utensils get a slightly modified eight turns, but I’ll spare you the details.) I hold the plate or bowl firmly by the edge, scrub quickly up and down (or back and forth, or side to side… however you need to imagine it to make it make sense to you) until I get a decent amount of bubbles in that linear pattern that looks lovely. Then, a quarter turn, repeat the scrub. Followed by several more turns with more bubbles. Basically, I end up doing, you guessed it, eight turns. I repeat the same process on the bottom of the plate, bowl, pan, etc.

Why eight? Four alone would seem inadequate. Five would be uneven. Six wouldn’t allow for every rotation to give equal attention to the surface of the item. Seven, again, odd. Eight turns means each direction gets two chances to get rid of food and germs. The twelve it would take to get each turn the equal number of scrubs just seems like overkill. I’ll do it if I must to get rid of everything bad, but this rarely happens.

Eight turns. Each side. Lots of suds (they don’t need to be big bubbles, just sudsy).

6. Rinsing. Hot water, obviously. Both sides, natch.

7. Drying. Make sure you allow your newly cleaned items on a newly cleaned surface, be it a clean towel or a rack. I use a metal rack because it’s the only option I have available, but it’s also what I’d choose due to the ability to sanitize it.

I allow the clean items to air dry. Towel drying has the potential to transfer icky, mean, nasty pathogens to everything you just spent a fair amount of effort to clean. Don’t let the pathogens party on your watch!

***

And there you have my insane approach to handwashing dishes. If I had a two well sink, I’d include a bleach dip. But I don’t so I can’t and I’m okay with it.

Do you have a specific approach to dishwashing? I would love to hear about it.

2019/03/16

Humbled

Da Goddess @ 23:11

Autocorrect was invented so we’d be humbled at least once a day.

There’s no way to maintain an air of superiority when autocorrect sneaks in and messes with you. Whether it’s during an argument or serious or “intellectual” discussion, I’m telling you it’s impossible to see yourself as having the high ground when you notice the error and it’s too late to change it.

Humbled.

Every single time.

2018/08/16

Thursday Thoughts

Da Goddess @ 00:01

“Every popsicle is a race against time” ~ Lin-Manuel Miranda

Ain’t that the truth?

From the same Twitter thread:

“Live each day like it’s a popsicle in summer” ~ Blake Severson

I’m telling you, Twitter has been a life-saver this year.

2018/07/29

Down the Toilet

Da Goddess @ 08:44

If you’ve read the Secret Squirrel post ( because you know where the password can be found [it hasn’t changed location or the actual word]), then you’ll need to cleanse your palate. I might have just the thing for you.

Why is it that I can sometimes use almost an entire roll of toilet paper in one sitting and have no problem with the flush, but other times I barely use any and the toilet requires double plunging?

I’m sure it has more to do with the crappy (pun intended) plumbing than it does my bathroom needs/habits. But, y’know I had to put the question out there.

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