Where Bad Things Happen

Kitchens are supposed to be where lovely things happen – where food happens. I love food, but I do not love my kitchen. I am fairly inept at cooking, I’ve got the baking thing pretty much down pat, and I’m terrible at doing the dishes.

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Said dishes.

To most people I have a cute, small, slightly Dr. Who themed kitchen. To most people it looks like the counter could be replaced, and there is a tad bit of renovation that could happen, but the appliances are very nice.

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Here’s my slightly Dr. Who theme going on.

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A painting my friend Beau created. I thought it matched nicely with all the little blue things I have.

But that is not the case my friends. That is not the case at all. For this week, my kitchen, became… MY WORST NIGHTMARE.

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Monday and Tuesday were normal days concerning all of my kitchen interactions. Tuesday night, I got some frozen chicken out of my freezer to thaw out in my fridge. 

Wednesday morning I grabbed my crock pot from the cupboard, I was going to cook the chicken in it, with alfredo sauce, all day when I was at work so I could have chicken alfredo for dinner. I noticed that the crock pot smelled a little funny. The outside looked fine, but I thought “Better wash it out again just in case.” That is when terror struck. You see, as with most crock pots, the area where you cook your food is ceramic and covered in a glaze and can be pulled out of the basin so you can wash it. Most of these crock pots, mine included, have an unfinished ceramic bottom – a part of the pot that isn’t covered with glaze – a “soft ceramic bottom.” Apparently the last time I put my crock pot away (about 2 weeks ago) I hadn’t dried the bottom properly. So when I pulled the crock out to wash it, much to my surprise – THE ENTIRE BOTTOM WAS COVERED IN BLACK MOLD. I REPEAT. COVERED. IN. BLACK. MOLD.


MOLD. (This mold had grown for so long that it had tiny stems and puffy spores like terrifying mold flowers.)


So being my naturally calm and collected self I FREAKED THE CRAP OUT. I yelled, I hobbled and jumped around whilst holding this heavy ceramic crock… And then it dropped a little and I spread a ton of BLACK MOLD onto my shirt. 


Lord help me, I was a mess. I immediately took my shirt and my pajama shorts off, threw them into steaming hot water in the tub and scrubbed them with soap. I then ran back to the kitchen (in just my bra and underwear) and start to clorox EVERYTHING. I cloroxed the crock, the basin, the lid, the counter, my arms, my stomach, my hands, the crock again, the basin again, the lid again, the counter again, my arms again, my stomach again, and my hands again (at this point I was just proud of the fact that I didn’t have a panic attack and just burnt the house down). 

But then looking at the clock I see that it’s 8:47am and I need to be to work by 9am. So I rushed around getting ready… And then all day at work all I could think about was the fact that there had been MOLD IN MY KITCHEN AND THERE COULD STILL BE MORE AND IT’S GOING TO KILL ME. To say I was tense at work is an understatement. When i got home I cloroxed everything AGAIN. And then washed everything with soap and hot water and put the bag with all the moldy cloroxed wipes and rags and paper towels in another bag and threw that on my porch to wait till garbage day. Then I ate cereal for dinner and searched my whole apartment the rest of the night for more mold.

Thursday morning I washed the crock again and then decided it would be safe to make my chicken alfredo. I opened my fridge to discover that the chicken that had been still mostly frozen on Wednesday, was now all the way thawed and that the bag the chicken was in… HAD A HOLE IN IT. There was RAW CHICKEN JUICE all over the bottom shelf of my fridge, and it had leaked into both the crisper and fresh fruit drawers, and underneath those drawers, and in the crevices behind those drawers. 

I wanted to cry. But I didn’t. I just put the chicken in the crockpot with the sauce, pretended I didn’t see the RAW CHICKEN JUICE all over my fridge, and I got ready for work since I was already short on time. And then I thought about raw chicken juice all day long at work. When I got home I opened the fridge, sat on the floor, and cleaned and cloroxed it for about 20 minutes. I still wonder if I got all of it. I then ate chicken alfredo for dinner.

Friday was uneventful in the kitchen, it was also trash day, so the mold and raw chicken juice clean ups were disposed of.

Saturday (today) I woke up after a fairly good sleep and when to the kitchen to start making breakfast. I was going to make my usual non-work day breakfast: 2 eggs – slightly runny, and 2 pieces of toast. I got all of my ingredients ready, heated the pan up, cracked my first egg… And almost threw up. The egg did not look like an egg. The egg WHITE was BROWN, the egg YOLK was GREEN, and the stench that started coming from the FRYING ROTTEN EGG IN MY PAN permeated my entire kitchen. I immediately freaked out. I grabbed the pan from the burner (left the gas burner on because I’m a genius) and ran around the kitchen yelling “I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO EWWWWWWW!” I finally decided that it couldn’t just go into the garbage, so I threw it in a small plastic shopping bag… But the pan was still hot… So when the pan touched the plastic bag it melted. And then my apartment smelled like rotten egg and burnt plastic. I now had a slightly melted bag with a half fried rotten egg in it, so what did I do? I put it in the freezer because I live alone and no one ever told me what to do in this situation!

I can’t wait to see what happens tomorrow… It better not be anything bad with my Keurig… That thing is my angel.

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This is the best thing invented of all time and I love it more than any other appliance ever.



Those reindeer eyes are kind of terrifying.

Those reindeer eyes are kind of terrifying.

Let’s talk about Christmas since I skipped blogging about it.

Christmas in my family is always 50/50. You never really know what you’re going to get. And I’m not just talking presents. You would think that with all this good cheer, and present giving, and whatnot that everyone would be happy. That is not the case. Lets be honest, that is never really the case.

Now I have 3 Christmases. 1 with my Mom’s side of the family the Saturday before Christmas, 1 with my family Christmas morning, and 1 with my Dad’s side of the family Christmas afternoon. I used to have 5 Christmases at one point and that was just overwhelming. There is such a thing as too much family time.

I’ll start with the 1st Christmas celebration with my Mom’s side of the family (I had to work on the day of it this year so I missed a bit of it but it was still quite eventful). We all meet at my Aunt S and Uncle A’s house. It is usually EXTREMELY hot in the house because of their fireplace. I always end up sitting in front of it somehow. I sweat for the entire day basically. We have big “linner” meal (lunch/dinner) and then we play some games, eat dessert, and then open presents. Now it is tradition that between dinner and dessert that my Uncle A and Uncle P get mostly drunk. It’s tradition and at their age now it’s just plain old adorable. My Uncle P gets very giggly. My Aunts and my Mom and my Cousin make a TON of amazing food that is wonderful. My Aunt T makes the best mashed potatoes ever. Do not argue with me. They are the best. There is so much butter in them that at any point there is a real risk of heart failure, but it’s worth it. Present time has gotten shorter each year, since now we basically all just get each other money and gift cards. We don’t like to mince around with lists and what not. It’s just “Here’s some cash. Have fun with it. I love you. Merry Christmas.” And I am fine with that. My 2nd cousins (all boys) will watch TV or play video games. Well they used to. Now they are older and they make me feel much older. One of my 2nd cousins even brought his girlfriend this year. Nothing makes you feel old and alone than your 2nd cousin who is almost half your age bringing a date to Christmas while you play with the dog. There is always, as I like to call it, a “highlight” of the day. Usually it’s something one of my Uncles does whilst tipsy (like the one year they did shots of jalapeno juice) but this year it was my new 2nd cousin. He is just a few months old and is the cutest baby on earth! It was my delight to basically ignore my entire family and just play with him.

My 2nd Christmas celebration is my family Christmas. Every year it starts later and later in the day. We used to have everything unwrapped by 7am. This year most of us didn’t even come downstairs till 9am. We have the same schedule for every year though, we turn “A Christmas Story” on in the background (since it plays for 24 FREAKIN HOURS STRAIGHT), my sister and I open our stockings first. My Mother will wrap every single individual present in the stocking. Mine always has candy in the bottom, my sister (the vegetarian) gets healthy stuff at the bottom (probably grain or seeds or something else equally distasteful to me). My parents will then open their stockings to each other. They are usually FULL of candy. Christmas is a big candy holiday in our house (honestly every holiday is big on candy… we just really like candy). The pets will then open their presents. Yes we are those people. We get our pets several presents and wrap them (I only buy for the dog though, I have no interest in spending my money on the devil cat). Then my mom passes presents out to everyone and we all kind of take turns unwrapping and watching each other unwrap. I don’t know if other families do this, I don’t even know if my family realizes that they do this, but I noticed it this year – after anything we unwrap, any present, stocking stuffer, anything – we will say thank you. Thank you to whomever bought it for us. Every. Single. Present. My sister and I must say ‘thank you’ to our parents at least 50 times during the unwrapping process (I guess we are just super polite people). After all the unwrapping, the paper is thrown away, presents are placed in rooms, I will gorge myself on Reeses Peanut Butter Christmas Trees while everyone else actually eats breakfast food. Then we start making food to take over to my Grandparents house.

My 3rd Christmas is with my Dad’s side of the family at my Grandparents house. The 1st tradition is that my family is always late. We live the closest to my Grandparents and every year we are late. And because we are late, the lunch is never on time (I assume most of the Harvey side of the family resents us for that, though they’ve never vocalized it). Whilst my Aunts and Mother finish preparing the food (and trying to make my Grandma get out of the kitchen) my cousins and I (we are all girls on this side of the family) set the table, pour the water, and put the food out. We all sit down and have a lovely meal, just kidding, it never works out that way. As stated before in my Thanksgiving post, family dinners on the Harvey side of the family consist of a copious dodge and weave of words, stories, questions, and insults. We cousins usually stick together, unless we need to attack our siblings. Someone always comments on which of us is dating or aren’t. My Uncle D usually says something inappropriate without even realizing what he’s saying, my Uncle B will be condescending about something, my Grandma will spill something on herself, my Grandpa will spill something on the table, and someone will make a mean joke about how my Grandpa and Aunt P’s hands shake a lot (I’ll be honest, it’s usually me). Many of the traditions stated in the Thanksgiving post carry on at Christmas.  After dinner we all just kind of sit around. Sometimes we have to wait for other relatives who didn’t come for dinner and just came for desserts and presents (lets be honest, dessert and presents are the best part… of family togetherness of course). Some years we eat dessert first, other years we open presents first. Honestly, it all just really depends on how full we all are. Sad but true. This year I got to be “Santa” – basically the person in charge of passing out presents- I have a system I adhere to. One present, per person, per round. That way there is a nice spread, everyone starts and finishes at the same time, and we all can watch with joy. Basically it’s the perfect system and I should be “Santa” every year. After presents there is lots of sitting, card game playing, watching TV, and napping.

After a few hours my family heads back home. We usually watch a movie, nap some more, watch “A Christmas Story” for the 100th time that day, and eat candy (ok, so just I eat candy).

And then I go back to work the next day.

Merry Late Christmas guys!

It's a Christmas Moose.

It’s a Christmas Moose.

Pumpkin Gutting!

Let’s be honest. That’s kind of what you do… Slit open the skin and flesh, rake out the innards, and then decorate. It’s very primal.

Anyways. I carved my pumpkin yesterday. Usually my family carves them together with some friends, which they did, without me, because I was sick. So they left my pumpkin here with me and I carved it by myself. So much fun…


Prepped and ready to be gutted.


I find it easier to cut a hole in the bottom of the pumpkin. That way you can just set it on a candle instead of having to stick your arm in the pumpkin to light it.


Innards. We keep the seeds to soak, marinate, and bake.


I’m pretty morbid during the Halloween season.

I’ll be honest. I love the design of this pumpkin. And it turned out pretty good for not having a pattern to follow. I really wish I could tell you how awesome and creative I am and how I came up with this idea all by myself. But I didn’t. I stole it from Steve Martin. I kid you not. He tweeted a picture of his pumpkin carving and I loved it. So I copied him. I’m shameless, I know.

My Mom carved 2 pumpkins this year because my Dad couldn’t be bothered to participate in the festivities.


My Mom’s 1st pumpkin.


My Mom’s 2nd pumpkin.

I think she got the design for the first one from a magazine. And the second one from a book… Maybe? I think it’s a cat…

Anyways, here they are lit up:





(Interesting fact of the day: I planned and wrote this whole post whilst listing to “Story of My Life” by 1D on repeat. I really like their new song. Almost made me want to do a 1D pumpkin….)

This Post Is About A Shower Curtain

Yep. You read that right. This whole post is about the shower curtain in the upstairs bathroom of my (parents) house.


This is the shower curtain.

So my Mother has a distinct sense of decor in our house and most of it is ‘americana/colonial/primitive’ and this type of patterned fabric is called toile. The fabric kind of ‘tells a story’ of sorts. It has pictures of different scenes on it.


People apparently swinging.

I can not tell you how many times I’ve looked/stared at this shower curtain. Seeing all the cute little scenes… Naming the people… etc..


I named the young lad Bill.

I just noticed something last night. Something very disturbing. There is an animal on this shower curtain that looks demonic.



No it’s not the slightly deformed looking sheep.



No it is not the dog with the slightly bulging eyes.



No it is not even this depressed looking donkey.

It is this creature.



This is goat? Whaaaat?!?!? What happened to it? Why is it’s eye practically in it’s ear? Why does it’s mouth look like a sharp pointy beak? Why is it so lumpy? Why does it look like it has an eye in between it’s horns. Just WHY?!?!!???



What pits of hell did this creature come from? Why have I never noticed this before? I shower every day! I should have seen this. And now that I’ve seen it, I can’t un-see it. Now as soon as I walk into the bathroom… I can feel it watching me. Following my every move. Looking at me with it’s 1 1/2 eyes.



Hey guys, guess what!


Yeah. I know.

Here are some fun facts about people who live with their parents:

  • Usually between the ages of 18-31
  • 36% of Americans live with their parents
  • People usually live with their parents for the first 5 years after college
  • Most parents do not charge rent
  • Most kids are free loaders – I AM NOT.


I moved out after I graduated from college. I lived in SC on my own – like an adult! But then some bad stuff happened and it ended up being safer for me to move back home to NY and live with my parents.

I have a full-time job. I clean. I do chores. I do some of the grocery shopping. And I pay my parents rent/bills/student loan money every month! Usually around $300.

And trust me, I have tried to move out. Several times. But every time all my plans/roommates/apartments fall through. And I’m stuck staying at home.


It will never become a cool thing. But it has become almost the norm. Most of my friends from college (the ones who aren’t married) live with their parents still. And honestly it’s not too bad. My dad doesn’t seem to mind me having around. My mom and I… can get along sometimes. And it’s not like I’m spoiled. I’ve never been spoiled a day in my life.


So this is how I live my life. I’ve been back at home for almost 1 1/2 years. I’ve tried to move out (again) 4 different times. Here’s hoping try #5 really sticks.

Meet Dwight

This is Dwight.


He is my dog (ok he’s really my family’s dog… but he likes me most… ok he likes my dad most but I’m 2nd!).


He is a pretty awesome dog. Sometimes… He can be really dumb. But he means well.


He’s not a huge fan of the holiday season. Big trees scare him, so do lights, loud noises, men, men with beards, women with beards, cars, cats, clapping, yelling, thunder, lightning, rain, snow…. Basically he is afraid of everything. He’s pretty much the worst guard dog ever.


He’s a big cuddler.


My family got him February 2010. I was still in college at the time so I didn’t get to see him until May. I missed him being a puppy. But my sister would text me pictures of him constantly.


He still loves to sleep on that blanket.


He was basically the cutest puppy ever.


He still is pretty darn cute.


Sometimes I like to dress him up when I’m bored.


Last year for Halloween I dressed him up like Dwight Schrute (he is actually named after Dwight Schrute – my family loves The Office).


But he’s just a normal dog… Loves swimming, running, playing fetch, sunshine…


He’s my buddy.


Socially Acceptable Sweatpants

I really wish they existed.

Because I really love wearing sweatpants.


For reals, yo.

I have been told, for most of my life, that it is socially unacceptable for normal people to wear sweatpants out in public. Unless you are a model or way more chic than I am and you look like this:


(Honestly that’s not even fair…. I could never make sweatpants look that good.)

Let’s be honest though… We usually tend to judge people who look sloppy out in public. And wearing sweatpants is a great and comfy way to look sloppy. (This of course excludes all athletic activities when you wear sweatpants.)

But sometimes you are having a rough day, and just want to be comfy ya know?


We’ve all been there… We’ve all been there.

But that feeling of going from jeans/dress/slacks/skirt to sweatpants… Ahhh… The best feeling of comfort in the world!

I try to be very understanding when people wear sweatpants in public. They could be playing a sport, doing laundry, etc, etc… Except when they wear these types of sweatpants:


If you wear these. I will judge you. I hate hate HATE hate when people (it really should be just girls but I’ve seen guys with it) have some sort of writing on the butt of their pants. You are drawing the wrong kind of attention to your booty.

And I don’t really want to know if your butt is PINK or JUICY… those seem like personal problems and you should go to the doctor if those are you symptoms.

What do you think? Sweatpants in public yes or no?

(Please say yes so I can use that as an excuse to wear them to the grocery store!)