Double-dropped Kitchen Floor Ice Cream

I still believe that icecream should be one word. WHY ISN’T IT ONE WORD??? It doesn’t make any sense. Iceberg is one word. So is Iceland. What about iceman? Even iceweasel is one word–though I have no flippin’ idea what it means.

Anyway, I digress!

You guys know I love chocolate.

If I could eat it all day, every day without dying of malnutrition, I’d do so. To hell with being able to fit into a car. Chocolate rules!

So, in an effort to eat food that is as healthy and non-processed as possible (meaning if it contains plastic, shit I cannot pronounce, or metal shavings, I’m trying to shy away from it), I thought that what I’d do is when I’m dying for some chocolate I’d just eat one spoonful of my favorite chocolate iceCREAM (dammit!) on earth: Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk. Just the name of it makes me a bit randy! And it contains ingredients that don’t tongue tie me.

Believe it or not I’m perfectly capable (though it takes ALL my strength) of eating only one bite per day. It sates my chocolate craving and is only about 25 calories for a small bite.

About a week ago I realized that my month-old pint of B&J is down to the last bite. Yes! It lasted a whole month. I am quite proud of myself.

I was so excited about getting that last delicious morsel of orgasmic chocolate heaven into my gaping maw that I attacked the pint with a ferocity typically known only to mother lions protecting their cubs.

Alas, that damn stuff was so frozen that it was not very accepting of my spoon. It bent the damn thing in half. (I know I’m not the only person with like 10 oddly bent spoons in their silverware drawer from where hard iceCREAM bent it and you had to try and mush it back into shape with only moderate success.)

Dang bendy spoons!

Dang bendy spoons!

So, back to the inaccessible B&J: GAME ON BITCH! I was gonna get that chocolate onto my spoon come hell or high water. PMS waits for NO frozen iceCREAM.

Finally, after digging at it and prying it away from the edge of the pint, I get some success. The spoon is in and the iceCREAM is slightly mobile, if not still a wee bit stuck.

With one final YANK I free the chocolate bliss from its wretched home and watch it go sailing through the air to land with an unceremonious splat on my kitchen floor.


Now, I don’t know about you, but my kitchen floor isn’t…well…clean.

As I refuse to clean anything in the kitchen and it all falls to the hubby, I can’t complain if the kitchen floor is gross. If I’m not willing to clean it, I also can’t bitch if it’s not clean.

I look lovingly upon my iceCREAM splat and say, “5 second rule!” I’m eating it and I don’t care.

I pick it up off the floor, analyze the 8 cat hairs and various other ickies now attached to it and decide that it’s worth the risk.

I remove all of the extra floor sprinkles now added to my piece of chocolate heaven and go to put it into my mouth.

Alas, my fingers are warm and with all the picking off of the ickies the iceCREAM has slightly melted and whoops! Through my fingers it falls again onto the floor.


But, eh, to hell with it. I cleaned it once, I can clean it again.

Now I’m back to removing cat hair and other Typhoid-carrying elements from my manna from Heaven. Finally, it looks clean enough to eat (well, sorta) and I pop that bite ‘o yumminess into my waiting mouth.

Mmmmmm…chocolate…mmmmmm…in love with Ben & Jerry. Wanna marry them…mmmmm… WHAT THE FUCK? Yep, there was a “what the fuck” moment while luxuriating in the chocolate bliss that is New York Super Fudge Chunk. I guess my iceCREAM picked up a hitchhiking pepper seed that had fallen to the floor a few days ago when the hubby was cooking Thai food.

Not sure how much you know about Thai peppers, but to say they are hot is like saying that Megan Fox or Chris Hemsworth (Thor) are just kinda okay looking–a tremendous understatement.

FIRE dammit! My mouth is on FIRE!

Yes, the iceCREAM did help it a bit as the cold helped numb my poor tongue. But whatever kind of pepper seed attached itself to my hunk ‘o hunk of burning dessert was bound and determined to survive.

My damn mouth burned for over a full day. Son of a bitch! Dumb floor. Dumb extra-frozen iceCREAM. Dumb pepper seed.

What…no “Dumb Jodi” in that list? Yeah, I should have been at the top of it! Single-dropped iceCREAM is bad enough. Double-dropped? I should have taken the second drop as a sign from God to just slowly back away from the chocolate. But since I don’t listen to anyone, including my own common sense, I had burny-tongue as my lesson of the day.

Well, actually, I didn’t learn any lesson. I’d still eat double-dropped iceCREAM if it was the last bite in the pint. I’m horrifyingly gross and I’m okay with it! 🙂


A Podcast of My Smarmy Mouth!

hate cleaning

I am so very excited to share with you that the ever-lovely Kris Keppeler has done it again! She has a fantastic podcast site and I am blessed to have had her give voice to one of my blog posts.

She took my, “Reasons I am NEVER cleaning ANYTHING again!” post and brought it to life. It is such a treat hearing her interpretation of my words, so I thought I’d share it with you guys too!

You can listen to her podcast by clicking here: KICK ASS!

You should definitely check out and follow her blog here: Awesomeness!

I’m also going to put it on the right side of my blog where her other Jodi-Post-Podcast can be found. Give me a day or two to reformat that part though as I’ve had my face buried in a computer for the last 10 hours and I’m starting to go both blind and crazy.

HUGE THANKS to Kris! It really does mean the world to me.

Podcast Cleaning Blog 6-25-13

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I’ve become a Happy Hooker! Oh! I mean a Happy Housewife!

Sorry. Sometimes I get the roles of hooker and housewife confused. 😉 KIDDING!!!

So, for those of you who know me, you’ll recall that I freaking HATE HATE HATE any kind of cleaning. Well, I’ve been a cleaning mo fo for the last week because my mother-in-law is coming into town tonight to stay for 3 weeks and I wanted the house to be all clean and pretty. We’ve spent a fortune in time and money remodeling the house, so I wanted it to look nice.

One constant cleaning issue we were having is that now that we have wood floors, our vacuum does nothing but blow the bits of junk that accumulate on the floor all over the place. It is SO frustrating!!! It’s like there has never been a home in which anyone ever wanted to vacuum over hard wood. And I gotta tell ya, I ain’t sweeping the dang thing then trying to navigate all that crap into a dustpan–which ALWAYS leaves that little dust line on the floor. I just don’t care that much. I’d rather live in filth.

Because of this complete vacuum fail I went on a mission to find a dang vacuum that would work on hard wood and didn’t cost the 4 million dollars that a Dyson costs. Alas, I FOUND ONE!!! YAY!!! And because I love you guys and I well imagine I’m not the only person with this problem, I thought I’d turn my blog into a Hints from Heloise column and tell you that I found the most amazing little vacuum that costs about $50. And it’s shaped like a V so you can vacuum right up along side the corners of walls and chair legs and table legs. It is Mr. Supreme Bad Ass Vacuum and I love him and want to marry him.

Bissell Vacuum    Bissell Vacuum 2

Okay, I don’t want to marry him, but for ME…ME!!! to blog about a cleaning implement, you know it must be good.

Here’s the link to the Bissell site where I bought it:

You need not have pets to enjoy this kick ass vacuum. It works like magic on tile and hard wood (heh heh… I said “hard wood”–sorry, HAD to go there!).

Also, you get free shipping if you order from and I got a 10% off coupon for signing up for their email list.

I think I now have to go lie down because I’ve forgotten who I truly am. Who is this strange woman blogging about vacuums? It certainly can’t be me. Good grief, NO!

Reasons I Am NEVER Cleaning ANYTHING again.

I’m not domestic. Not at all. I loathe cleaning. I hate doing laundry. I despise cooking. The vacuum is not my friend. My car looks like homeless people took it over years ago and have lived in it ever since. I don’t do cat litter (I hired a service for YEARS to clean my cat litter. Had to give them a key to the house–could have robbed me blind and molested my kitties. Luckily, he was a sweetheart and never got inappropriate with the furries. God, where did that come from? Sicko.) I don’t do dishes. If I was rich enough, I’d pay someone to come wash and dry my hair every other day.

Now, I know that sounds lazy as hell. But I swear, it’s not simple laziness (though that is a part.)

Here are the reasons, beyond being less domestic than a corpse, that I don’t do stuff:

  1. I broke the garbage disposal. I have no idea how. I always run water in it. I always check it for objects before turning it on. Alas, I broke it.
  2. I clogged the toilet with floor cleaning TP. We were out of papertowels (which I know to throw in the trash) so I used TP. I put that where TP normally goes, but it stopped up the pot.
  3. I put dishes in the dishwasher and somehow missed pre-cleaning one, so there was stuck-on food all over everything and it all had to be rewashed.
  4. I broke the belt on the vacuum.
  5. I spilled coffee all over everywhere trying to dust. Damn cup got in my way! I had to show it who’s boss. Then spent 20 minutes cleaning up the coffee. It went everywhere including a power strip (yeah, that’s safe), phone charger, bed, nightstand, under the bed and nightstand, over 2 of my teddybears and on and on and on…
  6. I knocked over a 15 pound salt lamp and broke my foot in 4 places.
  7. I tried to grate cheese and grated my thumb into the mix. Yes. We ate thumb on our pasta that night.

I could go on for days here.

So, as you can see, it’s not just laziness that keeps me from being a Domestic Goddess. Domesticity hates me back. As a reslut (why do I always type, “reslut” instead of “result?”), I am breaking up with Domesticity. Forever. Good riddance to brooms, sponges, vacuums, papertowels, dishwashers and the like. Poop on all of your heads! 😉

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