Mouth Torture

Today I conducted mouth torture, on myself. I’m sure you’re wondering what that is. While I imagine there are various types of mouth torture, the one I speak of here is of the tasting kind – the one where you taste gross and disgusting things. Why did I do this? Because a coworker gave me a pack of Jelly Belly jelly beans intended to have the consumer taste various beans that look alike but taste very, very different.

Take for example the yellow ones: either rotten egg, or buttered popcorn. The white ones? Baby wipes or coconut?

See the problem here?

While I initially said “no” to giving these a try, I was quickly lured in to test the toothpaste vs. berry blue. And that’s when this started:

“Why am I going to eat these Jelly Bellys with both normal and disgusting flavors that look the same in order to compare them?”

“Much to my surprise, pencil shavings are not bad tasting. (Wtf is wrong with the world?)”

“Also: the toothpaste is delightful, as expected.”

“I spat out the centipede as soon as I tasted its horrendousness.”















“Thank god that was caramel corn.”

“Moldy cheese flavor – not a winner.”

“Baby wipes flavor tastes exactly as they smell. Fyi.”

“Juicy pear has worked out. Otherwise it was “booger.” Fortunately they only packed one of that option.”

“I absolutely refuse to take a chance with the skunk spray. No-way ho-spray.”

“Canned dog food hanging out with centipede after a moment in my mouth.”

“And finally, I refuse to attempt “barf.” I have no interest in that. More interest than skunk spray, but not enough to try.”



After this, I determined I will never torture my mouth like that again.

_

I have a bike, but I probably shouldn’t have a bike – Part One

I’ve had trouble with bikes. I mean literally, I’ve physically had trouble with them. It hasn’t been that I’m too tall, too short, too heavy, or have balance problems – I have had bad luck with bikes in the sense that it has resulted in physical trouble to me. Let me explain.

Sometime during my teens, my parents bought me a mountain bike. I was pretty excited about a fancy new mountain bike, so I took it out for a ride, which turned out to be no normal ride at all.

I was in the woodsy-hillsy part of town on a summer’s day, minding my own business whilst riding my fancy new bike.

I stopped for a rest and to take in nature. I looked down and saw specs of dirt on my white socks. I looked closer, and they were moving.

I focused the best I could – and found the specs were red and had legs, many legs actually, and they were all over my shoes, legs, and shorts.

And then I saw them on my arms and shirt.

And then I realized they were baby ticks.

And that’s when I freakedthefuckout.

Because I was covered in BABYFUCKINGTICKS! from HEADTOFUCKINGTOE!

Which resulted in my parents hosing me down, in the backyard, wearing nothing but underwear, after driving home nearly naked since I tied my clothes to the bike rack on the back of the car so not to bring any more ticks inside than were already on my skin.

Needless to say, I didn’t ride my fancy new bike for quite some time after that.

But when I did? Nope – didn’t go well that time either.

_

Follow on Twitter!
-
Follow the feed!
_