To placenta or not to placenta? That is the question.

Last night Jess and I had quite the text conversation, which subsequently led to follow-up via voice. It must be shared.

I received this photo with the caption, “These are the times I wish I had a husband…”

Dead placenta covered mouse.

Me, “Ahahahahaha. Want me to do it?”

Her, “I handled two rats at the old house, but this one is covered in placenta.”

Me, “Placenta is good for your hair. You should save that part.”

Her, “Vomit… in… mouth…”

Me, “You can buy it at Walgreens. I love it. I’ll get you some next time. It comes in fancy glass vials. Think PETA would destroy me for this?”

Her, “If you can actually buy placenta at Walgreens I may never shop there again. After having DELIVERED placenta out of my hoo hoo I can honestly say… Bleh!”

My next message that never got sent because I got a phone call from mom informing me that Nick and I were now hosting my sister’s birthday party 48 hours later. Had to hop into action. (Not a complaint, just changed focus rapidly.) This is what I intended to send but forgot. “Not just there. All drug stores, Fred Meyer, Target… They all sell this hair care product. I’m sure it’s not human baby, but animal baby. Works like a charm.”

Post shopping for bday festivity goods I called Jess (hands free) on the way home. We had a nice little chat about said placenta.

Ring, ring, ring…..

Jess, “Hello?”

Me, “You picked up?! What?! You never pick up. Woo hoo!”

Her, “Ha ha.”

Me, “I can’t believe you don’t want to try this stuff. It’s great for your hair!”

Her, “Again, I will not use any products that are made of the same thing that came out of my hoo hoo.”

Me, “But it has a ton of nutrients and things.”

Her, “Yeah, and cats eat their placentas after giving birth, but have you met me? I am not a cat. Cats also lick their own butts. I do neither of these things. I saw that thing after giving birth to the boys, it is gross and full of slime and blood and all sorts of gross things…..”

My thought that I didn’t say because her statement just got better, “Placenta that I buy is clear. It must go through a thorough cleansing process.”

Her continued, “…You know what else? I heard that there are some people having their placentas made into vitamin capsules and taking them as pills. That is so gross!”

Me, “Hmm…. Well, I’m not a cat and don’t want to eat my placenta right out of my hooey, and I’m not sure about licking my own butt, but getting all those vitamins and nutrients back in your body can’t be a bad thing. I’m going to have to look in to these so-called placenta vitamins. Seriously though. You can get this stuff everywhere, all drug stores and super stores. I like to combine my placenta hair care with cholesterol.”

Her, “You can use my cholesterol in your hair whenever you like.”

Me, “Thanks! If I could figure out a way to do it without killing you and ripping your veins out of your body I’d take you up on that.”

Her, “And you are disgusting. I don’t know if we can still be friends.”

Me, “That’s not true. I’ve said and done far worse things than this.”

Her, “True.”


In a conversation with mom this morning she said that someone who shall remain nameless unless they want to reveal themselves planted her baby’s placenta under a rose bush. It grew beautifully! I can personally attest to it.

Such a diverse baby bi-product.

Placenta hair care product. Photo courtesy of

Here are some alternative uses for placenta from

Clean Your Pee off the Seat! You’re Nasty!

I will preface this blog by stating since I’m back in school I really probably won’t blog more than once a week unless I have something really important to say. It’s just not going to work out doing all of these things at once. Now for the action.

This is a rant, and no, it’s not about Nick.

I am sick and tired of walking into public bathrooms and finding pee all over the toilet seat!!! Argh!

Let’s examine the reasoning behind this.

Many women will agree that sitting on a dirty toilet seat is not that palatable. In order to circumvent putting their very pristine behinds on all sorts of bacteria and who-knows-what left behind by others they employ “the hover method.” Fair enough, I’ve done this myself, but do not use it regularly, unless it’s a particularly skanky bathroom that is. Here’s why:

Not only did I grow up, from age probably 2 – 18, using a traditional hole-in-the-ground outhouse very frequently at a park near my godmother’s house, but I spent several years in the military. Sometimes we were placed in precarious toilet situations.

For example, in The Kingdom of Jordan when we arrived at our site it was just sand and really high berms surrounding the sand. We had to build tents, wooden structures, and the bathrooms. These bathrooms were plywood boxes we used to transport equipment. The boxes were set on their side with the lid facing outward so you could lift it up like a door. Empty, metal, 50 gallon drums were cut in half and placed inside the boxes with the hole up. A hole was cut in the shape of a toilet seat of the top of the plywood box, and someone had the foresight to bring along plastic toilet seats for comfort. Daily the 50 gallon drums would fill up with human waste and it had to be disposed of.

It was at this point that we would use handles affixed to the side of the drums, drag them out of the boxes (those hinged lids are handy huh?) and move them a reasonable distance from any structure. They would be partially filled with diesel fuel and lit on fire. There were burning poop monitors standing around with very long poles of some variety to make sure they could stir the excrement and other items until there was nothing left in the drum but ashes. See picture below. After that the drum would be replaced into the community house. Yes men and women although we did have a card stating what gender was in there at the time.

D/1-7 ADA 2003 Field Toilet Sketch

As horrible as this may sound to the civilian population it was something of a coveted duty. Believe it or not Jordan gets REALLY cold in the winter. It snowed a couple of times while we were there. Just imagine that your only source of heat is fuel or oil burning stoves in tents in 20 degrees or less. Burning other people’s crap turns into a warm and happy job during the cold days.

So, back to the point I’m trying to make. I rarely hover because I contracted zero strange diseases from either of these, and myriad other circumstances. It seems like a waste of thigh muscles. I’ll admit that I more often than not don’t even bother with the seat covers. That is until I encounter the pee on the seat situation.

Now here’s my beef ladies. You hover, that’s great, it’s your right as a human to expend bodily waste as you so choose. It is HUGELY DISRESPECTFUL, however, to miss the toilet bowl and pee all over the seat and not wipe it up! That’s your pee! Not mine! Not the next lady’s and not the flipping custodians! It belongs to you! Do you pee on your own seat and leave it there?! Do you want to sit in your own pee at home?!

Okay, some will argue that there are toilets that flush with so much water pressure they splash on the seats. I’ll give you that. It’s up to the institution to regulate this and wiping up a few water drips isn’t so disgusting. That said, you can totally tell the difference between splashys and pee!

So here you are pee-on-the-seat women. You are so dang classy that your pretty little patuckus cannot touch a seat a stranger has defiled, but you are oh-so-comfortable leaving behind your own urine for others to avoid or clean up.


Clean up your stupid mess.

That is all.

The… Neighbor… Walked… In……….

Update at the bottom…..***Now there’s another one!!!!****


There are times in our lives when we think we’ve lost the crazy, twenty-something, person we used to be. There are times in our lives when we question whether or not we are really satisfied with our suburban lifestyles. There are times in our lives when we really wonder if settling down is what we want. And then there are times in our lives when we realize that we haven’t settled at all, that we, in fact, have just found that perfect someone that complements our bat-shit-craziness and we are grateful. This is one of those bat-shit-crazy appreciative stories.

Today is 9 calendar days before we are supposed to close on our house in one of the swankiest (family) neighborhoods in one of the swankiest suburbs of Portland, Oregon. Today we ran into some complications. Complications that, even though I have been on Prozac for months, and taking counseling weekly for months, started smoking again for the last 6 weeks, and dropped all of my classes this term, could not prevent the massive anxiety attack they produced. I had to rant to my best friend Jessica.

During said rant we nagged, bitched, complained, plotted, stormed and got our feelings out. Both of us work in the construction industry, she for 11 years, and me for 5. We are aware of certain standards, and we had ourselves a hey-day with the whole debacle. During said rant I got up, grabbed my pack of smokes and my lighter, and opened the door to walk outside. I had opened the door about 12 inches wherein a puppy-dog ran inside, landed on my feet and started doing laps around the living room. It was an adorable pup. I thought it was funny and it seems that Squeak, our cat, wasn’t very upset with his presence. He ran right up to her for a sniff and her back was only slightly arched. I opened the door wide to let the owner of the pup in to get the dog and she kept apologizing profusely. Of course I just laughed that I’d screamed and said it was okay. As she took her dog away I kept reassuring her everything was fine and then explained why I’d screamed in her ear to Jessica. Jess and I had a good laugh. I told her about other incidences of pups running rampant through the condo. We live in the closest unit to the dog park, so this has happened a few times. It’s pretty cute.

Nick, the darling man, knowing I was unbelievably crazed by the house building/inspection situation at hand, offered to pick us up Chinese for dinner earlier on. I readily accepted and during the convo with Jess he showed up. Jess and I hung up with the disclaimer that if I could not calm down she would be receiving a phone call demanding retail therapy. She accepted.

I began to take some bites of food and related the pup story to Nick. The following conversation ensued:

Nick, “How long did you have the door open? I mean did you forget your lighter and walk back and the dog ran in?”

Me, “No, I had barely opened the door and the dog surprised me. He literally landed on my shoes running inside and did laps.”

Nick, “Did the owner say anything weird?”

Me, “No she just apologized a ton of times. I tried to make her feel better but she seemed really sorry and walked away.”

Nick, “Did she come into the condo at all.”

Me, “Yeah, she made a few steps in to get her dog. Why?”

Nick, “Do you think she noticed the sex swing?”

Me, “…………………………………,” really long pause, “………………………….,” mouth dropping, “……………………..,” realization hits, “OH…………… MY………………. GOD! I didn’t even think of that!!!!!!!”

Nick, “Bwahahahahahahahahahahahaahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Uproarious laughter from the couch. I don’t even hear him laugh this hard at the show Wipeout.

Me, “Oh! I didn’t even think about that! We are such pervs! It’s just normal to me! CRAP! SHE SAW THE SEX SWING!”

Nick, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Me, “I. Don’t. Know. What. To. Say. Right. Now.” My face turning the color of a beet.

Nick, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Are you going to call Jessica back and tell her about this detail?”

Me, “…. Yes….. Of course….. I’m. Still. In. Shock. What the crap?!”

So I called Jessica and informed her that the sex swing was still erected from Valentine’s Day. I hadn’t told her previously, but had to tell her now. It was WAY too good a story not to share.

Nick had actually been a GLORIOUS man and given me the best gift anyone could ever ask for. It was too inappropriate to post on Facebook, and for that I’d been a little sorry.

Nick’s present was, on his lunch break he prepped all the ingredients for our favorite dinner, Kraft Chicken Mexicali Salad (lettuce, Shake-n-Bake chicken, beans, corn, cheese, and ranch) and had it in the fridge ready to bake when we got home. He had also surprised me with the erection of our sex swing. WE’RE NEWLYWEDS DON’T JUDGE US! And I’m Sarah and he’s Nick so it’s the very least you should expect.

Could you say no to this man?! ***

Said sex swing was still up 2 days after V-day because we didn’t see any use in bringing it down before we were ready. The neighbor lady and her dog both walked in, saw the thing, and probably thought we were going to try to sex torture her to death THEN RAN FOR THE MOTHER-FLIPPIN’ HILLS! Me, being the Sarah-Perv that I am, never once thought of it at all even though it is an enormous spider looking thing right in front of the TV (where else are we supposed to put it in a 1 bedroom 800 square foot condo?!). I had truly believed she was only uncomfortable with her dog being in our place. It never once occurred to me that she may have been slightly intimidated by the giant black contraption with stirrups in the middle of the living room. OH. DEAR. GOD.


I LOVE MY HUSBAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NICK YOU ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***Side note. This is my fortune from the Chinese Nick brought home tonight, “There is excitement to be found wherever you go.”*** I AM SO IN LOVE! ***After a little conversation Nick agreed this is one of the better stories of my life and agreed that it should be told. Nor should we be embarrassed by our dirty love. ;)***

***And for copyright purposes… If I read about this story, or if I watch it in a screenplay I am most certainly suing for the rights. There is no possible way this could be thought up by your random writer. Sorry folks but it’s my story. Thanks. However, if you want to use it royalties are totally cool. Just shoot me an email and we’ll work something out.***

My ironic fortune tonight.

Update from above *** So this makes absolutely no sense. No one comes over ever. I mean I can literally count the number of times we’ve had company or door knockers on two hands…. Guess what? A friendly neighbor who apparently knows my car knocked tonight to inform me that my rear passenger window was rolled down. He knocked, I was in a robe and that swing is still up. Once again i just thanked him, closed the door, and then….. after 20 minutes plus I realized that with the door open he probably saw what was going on. One good indicator was how many times he apologized for disturbing. Ugh. Why can’t I learn my lesson the 1st time?!

***Sweet mother of mercy! Now, tonight, 2/21/12, a person accidentally gave the wrong address to a pizza delivery guy. Dude dinged on the doorbell. What the living hell?!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not only will everyone in Beaverton view this thing, but my repetitive blogs will keep it going too. Well crap…. here’s a toast to dirty love.****

Did a spider really just come out of my nose?

I need to give a disclaimer that this blog will contain way too much information and be very disgusting. With that in mind if you still want to read it, be my guest.

Inexplicably I started sneezing, snorting, coughing and snotting all over the place at age 28. At first I assumed I had a cold, then thought it could be seasonal allergies, but after months of Dayquil and driving across the Washington border to get the real Sudafed I saw an Ear, Nose & Throat doctor. He gave me a CT scan, determined I had no tumors and confirmed I have a very crooked schnoz. No one ever believes I’ve broken this cute little button of a nose three times, but now I have the pictures to prove it.

My adorable little nose (favorite feature) has been broken 3 times and you can tell in a CT scan.

He also told me I have an allergy to dust. Dust? That stuff is everywhere! Carpet, curtains, vents, in the wind, the list just goes on and on and on. He said I’d probably be taking allergy meds for the rest of my life because I’ll never be able to escape the sluffed off skin cells, pollens and other contaminates.

Since being notified that my sinuses will be stuffy and clogged for the rest of my existence I have begun a battle with my body. Typically throughout the day I take Sudafed and I sneeze about a dozen times or so. At night however, since I cannot take amphetamines and actually sleep, I have to just deal with whatever allergens attack my cranium. Invariably I wake up feeling like there is an elephant sitting on my forehead, with clogged ears, drool down my cheek from mouth breathing, and at least one nostril that will not work.

My god mother turned me on to the neti pot situation, aka nasal irrigation. It looks very much like a genie lamp in which you put a combination of warm water and a pre mixed saline solution. You turn your head to the side like your lying on a pillow and pour the liquid into one nostril and all your junk comes out the other, then switch sides. This particular contraption was a pain; the water would run into my ears so I went hunting for a more convenient apparatus. I found it in the form of what looks very much like a douche squirter, with an open end instead of that stick with holes. You still make the same water/saline solution but you can do this standing straight up in the shower. Voila! It’s now become convenient to flush my boogers.

Neti pots. The two on the left are a pain, I like the one on the right, the nose douche.

About 1/2 the mornings I prepare my nose douche right before I get in the shower. After I’ve gone about my business of washing various parts and pieces I commence the snot flushing ritual.

1. Squirt up the left nostril, water shoots out the right. Then I cough, choke, spit, and gag out the booger pieces that have just gotten in, on, or around my mouth. I look down at the shower floor to see what has come out. There is always quite the variety of colors, shapes, sizes, and consistencies. It’s like finding out which prize is in a Cracker Jack box.

2. Squirt up the right nostril while water shoots out the left. Repeat the above gagging and choking, but much more violently because my body just really doesn’t like me doing this.

3. Repeat these steps until there is no more water in my nose hose.

It is at this point that I have been hacking and coughing up my sinus waste to the point that it becomes somewhat uncontrollable. I start to cough so hard that I vomit up all the extra snot that ran into my stomach in the middle of the night. This is pretty great, because I don’t think mucus is a part of a food group, and I don’t need the extra calories. About 25% of the time Nick then wakes up and comes into the bathroom to make sure I’m not dying, the other 75% of the time he lets me know I woke him up when I give him a kiss goodbye. I gently remind him that not hearing my nasal flush is just another good reason we’re building the new big house.

One of the very best sounds of a sinus cleanse morning is the loogie hock/finger in throat combo. I don’t know if anyone has experienced these when they have a cold, but since I constantly have irritants in my nasal passages I get what I call tonsil balls. They are gross things that are greenish-yellow that develop in the pockets of your tonsils. I get them all the time and they tickle or feel like I’m being stabbed by a tortilla chip when they start to get big. Getting them out on nose mornings is imperative. The more violent my hacking the more of these guys get shot out of their pockets.

Tonsil ball or stone

This morning was not a snot eviction day, that was yesterday, but I hadn’t done sinus maintenance in about a week so my holes and passages were likely more clogged than normal. I woke up feeling equally as horrible as usual and blew my nose in the shower to try to get rid of the offending goobers. Something rather hefty ejected from my beak and I had to check it out. A brief glimpse showed a dark blackish/gray object, with what seemed to be legs in my hand. I instantly rinsed it off but couldn’t investigate further because bubbles were covering the shower floor. Is it possible that for the last 2 years a family of spiders has been free loading in my skull causing me all this trouble? Maybe I need to get another CT and tell the doc to look for exoskeletons. Maybe I should charge rent.