Debra — Disgusting Things I Have Done

That caught your attention, didn’t it?  Mine, too.

I thought this would be a high-lair-ree-us topic for a blog.  Until I realized that I’m a prim and proper girl.  You could have knocked me over with a feather.

Then, I thought, I’ll ask Guitar Boy (aka hubby).  Surely, he knows the disgusting side of me.  You can’t be married for long without revealing your true nature.  Surely he would give me a list of any number of suitable anecdotes to share.

He walked into my office just as I decided I needed him (he’s handy like that).  Seriously.  I am not making this up.  I think, “I need Guitar Boy” and ::poof:: there he is.  This is an amazing talent and I have yet to figure out how he does it.

“What disgusting things have I done?”  I asked in a very upbeat voice so that he’d know it was no trap.

“Nothing.”  The reply was too quick and too polished.  He was avoiding the trap yawning in front of him.  Clever, clever boy.

“No. No, honey.  I’m serious.  This will not get you in trouble.  What disgusting things have I done?”

“Nothing I can think of.  Can I go now?  Oh, wait.  The fact that the acid in your fingers literally eats the letters off keyboards, eats through the plastic keys and also burns through guitar strings faster than is humanly possible is…well, not disgusting, but it is just plain wrong.  You’re a freak, but not in a disgusting way.” 

That makes me feel tons better.  At least I’m not a disgusting freak.  Still, this put me back to square one—trying to come up with a high-lair-ree-us story about being disgusting.  Or even a disgusting story about being disgusting.  I figured this would be character building.  This would be me, revealing a bit of myself to the world as a break from my business-like, propeller-head image.  Putting it all out there…so to speak.

Instead, this is me recognizing that I don’t like to touch, eat, play with, or keep disgusting things.  I left this blog up on my screen and went to exercise.  I decided that a little blood to the brain should help me remember.  No.  I apparently am the prissy girl that everyone hated in grade school.  But I have managed to come up with a few things.

I am afraid everyone here will have much better lists.  Here is mine, and I only have them because my evil family made me go to our cabin on the White River when I was in school:

1  Frog gigging  (did not go well)

2  A weird game of “touch the dead pig laying by the shore.”  There were rules and points.

3  Fished around the bottom of a seriously nasty bog/smelly swamp for my eyeglasses.

I cannot put an entire package of crackers in my mouth and burp the alphabet (my sister).  I cannot dislocate anything for the amusement of others.  I am “that girl.”  The one with the slightly wide eyes and the frozen smile when others are doing disgusting things and I can’t think of why it’s funny or fun.  ::sigh::  I bet you guys have done high-lair-ree-us-ly disgusting things as youngsters or oldsters, right?  Or are there some prissy girls like me out there?  Do we have Neanderthal Guys following the blog or are you guys civilized?

The LEAST disgusting thing I’ve done lately is publishing the newest in the fab Parker Blue series.  (cover above)  The book just came out in the last week.

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20 Responses to Debra — Disgusting Things I Have Done

  1. Betina says:

    Deb, you sick woman you. Okay– I confess, I once had a “spitter” in the family. I used to cringe at every throat-clearing,” knowing what was coming next. Yech. I HATE that. And so many men do it! WHY?

    Personally–::sniff::–I have no objectionable habits. But I have changed vile dirty diapers that would make strong men cry. And run. And let’s not talk about the projectile vomit I’ve cleaned up after sick kids. Carsick? Ever tried to clean up after a kid who barfed in a car?

    Pooper scooping after a sick dog, anyone? anyone? Bueller?

    And they should sell hazmat suits for people who have to clean out the vegetable crisper after a few months of neglect. Ever stuck you hand in to remove a questionable cucumber and had it dissolve into goo in your hand? Ewwww.

    That disgusting enough for you?

  2. Michele says:

    Hmm, well I grew up in a family of amazing burpers, but for some reason I did not get that gene. Though it must be a recessive gene because I passed it along to my children. Family get-togethers are punctuated with loud, booming burps, burps challenges (who can do it longest and in some sort of tune), and the ever popular, burping sentences and/or the alphabet.
    I figured just describing that was disgusting enough. So there’s my disgusting points for the day. 🙂

    • debradixon says:

      ROFL. Burp contests? You gotta love that. My sister could get in on the song action. The Star Spangled Banner is one I think I remember her doing.

  3. lois greiman says:

    AH HAH!!! A contest I can win!! Oh, where to begin.

    Okay, here’s one: I used to inseminate cattle. Yup, arm up rectum to my shoulder. How’s that?

    Oh, and delivering calves. No gloves available…you reach in as far as you can and try to turn baby manually…sometimes actually worked.

    Cleaning cattle, horse, sheep yards.

    Ahhh, here’s a good one everyone will enjoy…if one owns a gelding or a stallion one should clean his sheath on a regular basis. Sometimes that means just washing it off but sometimes it means reaching inside his body cavity to remove ummmmm crud so it doesn’t irritate and/or cause infections. Not that a dainty thing like me would ever do such a thing…like say, this morning. Hmmm, did I wash my hands? 🙂

    Deb, if you need any more disgusting examples I am your girl.

    • debradixon says:

      Lois!! Oh my gosh! This is hysterical, mostly because you aren’t this big brawny thing. You’re such a slender girl.

      All of that is definitely approved for “disgusting” but goes in the “I’m only doing it because it’s necessary” category too. (g)

      I have delivered puppies, so that could be disgusting. NOT in the realm of sheath cleaning or insemination, but I’m feeling so much better because it is becoming obvious that I block disgusting but that I actually have done disgusting things.

    • Betina says:

      This part of my earlier married life I forgot about. Amazing. Didn’t do the insemination of cows, but watched P-lenty. Does that make me a pervert?

  4. kylie brant says:

    LOL, Lois, you crack me up! Ok, most disgusting thing…I kept my son’s dog for 8 months, during the puppy stage (kid owes me big time!) She liked chocolate. A lot. So when it was time to buy the Christmas candy, I wisely locked it in a bed room. She BROKE in to the bedroom and ate five bags of candy bars. So I figure she’s going to die, right? Chocolate is bad for dogs. But in the meantime she went in the kennel because ::she made a bad choice::!!

    It took an hour or so for nature to take its course. She had explosive doggie diarrhea. I’m talking gallons. And she was so agitated at having to stand in it, that she broke out of the kennel and proceeded to go wild in the basement. Poop on the walls, on the shower, the freezer, the rugs, the floor….GAH, what a mess!

    My husband was useless as usual. “But this sort of thing makes me sick!” he whined. Like I love it, right? So I’m stripped down to sweater, undies and knee sock nylons, literally shoveling out the room, scrubbing, bleaching and trying unsuccessfully to keep my gag reflex under control. Hubby helpfully takes the kennel to the car wash.

    Ugh. The memory still makes me sick!

    • Betina says:

      Kylie! I nearly blew diet coke out my nose! What a hoot! To hear about, of couse. It was probably horrible to live through. ::snarfle::

  5. debradixon says:

    Kylie– On the walls??? Ewwww! You poor thing. I think your kid is going to owe you for a long long time over that one! I imagine this took way more time that you’d think to clean up. I love that your hazmat gear is nylon knee socks! LOL!

  6. Let’s see…I’m told that when I was a toddler, I was fascinated by mice. My grandfather got me a little cage, and when he’d catch a mouse in the cellar, he’d put it in the cage, and I’d watch it until it died. Kind of reminds me of Lenny in “Of Mice and Men,” except that as far as I know I didn’t carry them around in my pocket and pet them. And when I was about 10 or so we used to build toad houses out of sand and play with those critters until they gave up the ghost. I guess the animal world paid me back later during the ranching days. Had to tend to some ishy stuff–see Lois’s post. She’s one up on me with the horse package cleanup. Haven’t done that one. My hat’s off to you, Lois. Not a wimpy bone in that woman’s body.

    • Betina says:

      Mouse abuse. Kathy, you never cease to surprise us. I confess to a few distressing calamities with the occasional goldfish or guppy. Fish have never fared well in my care.

  7. debradixon says:

    “horse package cleanup”

    Now there is a turn of phrase that confirms you know how to sling words. LOL!

    You played with mice and toads? The mice are on the margin, but toads are gross. (g) So that qualifies if you were toad housing contractor.

  8. Helen Brenna says:

    Okay, so I’m a day late, but OMG, this is hilarious. I just KNEW Lois would have something fun, but I never would’ve imagined every one else has this great stuff!

    I could probably think of a ton of stuff – growing up with in a family of eight, half of them boys is bound to impact a girl, but off the top of my head … I threw up in the car once WHILE I WAS DRIVING! lol I’m not kidding. Vomit all over the windshield and steering wheel.

    I was sick, needed medicine and thought I could make it to the store a mile away from my house. Made it there okay. Didn’t make it back okay. My dh won some major brownie points for cleaning that one up.

    Thanks for the lovely visuals today, Deb!

  9. lois greiman says:

    I’m soooo glad I’ve impressed folks with my disgusting tales. Is there a prize of some sort?

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