In my ongoing effort to avoid listening to political rants and to take my mind off the fact that Texas Tech basketball continues to break my heart, I watched a video on clever tips for cleaning every day messes. While I can see how some of this information might possibly be valuable if you live in a Barbie Dream House, I just couldn’t see how any of it would apply in real life.
Let’s start with dried Play-dough in the carpet. The way to clean that up is to never allow Play-dough in your house. Hospitals should give new parents a handout before they ever let them assume total responsibility for a baby. Number one on the handout should be: Do Not allow Play-dough in or near your house. If you can choose between Play-dough and cockroaches, go with the roaches. At least they’ll go hide and won’t become a permanent, rock-hard reminder of your bad decisions stuck in your carpet for all eternity.
The next problem was red wine spilled on the carpet. Again, prevention seems to be the obvious solution. Do not invite people to your house who get sloppy drunk. For the sake of argument, though, we’ll assume the wine was spilled because someone inadvertently had a massive seizure (probably from watching Texas Tech basketball lose AGAIN in overtime by one stinking point). Video stain-remover girl suggests using equal parts hydrogen peroxide mixed with dish soap. Forget that. Open a bottle of white wine, pour some on a rag and blot up the red wine. Then finish drinking the white wine. Of course if you can just spill the red wine on the part of the carpet where the Play-dough has calcified, then you can just centralize your problems and put the couch on top of it.
The video continued with getting crayon marks off furniture. My tip on that: Keep them. Those sweet-faced, innocent angels grow up and trade crayons for car keys. At which point, you treasure those crayon marks. Instead of wasting your time cleaning those up, sit on the couch with that open bottle of white wine and watch a few games of college basketball. Maybe cheer for a team that doesn’t choke in overtime which would pretty much be anyone playing Texas Tech. If I could only figure out how to clean up that hot mess!
In light of the current questionable reputation of modern journalism, I want to be very clear before we start: I have not made any of this up. Just over a week or so ago, bids on eBay hit $100,000 for a Flaming Hot Cheeto shaped like the fatally wounded Cincinnati Zoo gorilla Harambe. I’m not sure what part of that is most disturbing or, in equal turn, hilarious.
Exactly how does this happen? Does one set out looking for a Harambe-shaped Flaming Hot Cheeto as one would go to the beach with a metal detector hoping to come across a lost quarter or a misplaced wedding ring? Or is it all just a freak chance? You’re sitting at Subway with your 6” Sub-of-the-Day and what you think is just another bag of chips when suddenly you realize you have the artificially-colored, calorie-laden version of a martyred zoo animal worth more than your reportable annual salary.
If, perhaps, you missed the dust up when it happened during the middle of last year because you were an ISIS hostage, lost in the Arctic or simply don’t care about silly things, then maybe you don’t know about poor Harambe, the four-year old boy who tumbled into his enclosure, and the heartbreaking decision to relinquish Harambe to cyber-sainthood. For the past year, he has been memorialized through silly memes and a song that my teenagers say is not “mom friendly.” That was before Frito-Lay catapulted our hero back into the spotlight as a Cheeto of considerable value.
Harambe’s celebrity status, though waning, is surely part of what played into the stupid amount bid, but I still think it’s a bit out of line for the going rate of celebrity food doubles. A 10-year old piece of toast with burn marks resembling the Virgin Mary only brought $28,000, a piece of toast that the owner claims was the source of her casino winning streak. How is that worth just under a third of Harambe Cheeto considering the added value of an associated lucky streak? The face of Elvis appearing in a slice of bacon was practically given away! We’re talking about the King! In bacon! It just makes no sense.
All this time, I have just been happy to find a bag of Baked Lays that wasn’t smushed into hydrogenated potato dust. Yet, for all I know, I’m just one well-formed kolache away from riches. Needless to say, I’ll start paying a little more attention.