BETRAYAL BY CHOCOLATE: THE IKE STORCH STORY
On Friday night, Jason and I were hanging out on the back deck after dinner. The boys were instructed to get pajamas on before picking out a movie to watch. Noah and Ezra were allowed to make a pit stop at the candy bowl for dessert; Ike had refused to eat any dinner so he was to go directly upstairs.
Suddenly, we heard some very, very distressed crying coming from the kitchen. Ike was sitting by the candy bowl and wailing.
"What's wrong, what happened?" I asked.
"IT'S HOT!" he cried.
That was a damn dirty lie and we both knew it.
"Did you eat something you weren't supposed to, Ike?"
"NO," he sobbed. "YES."
Yes, indeed. Out of all the clandestine candy options he could have gone with, he'd chosen very, very poorly:
I purchased this chocolate at food & booze festival we attended a couple months ago, and I purchased it because the ghost peppers are like built-in portion control. It is physically impossible for me to shove all this chocolate in my mouth hole and that's a good thing. One or two small bites is about all I can manage.
I have no idea how much Ike ate, but I'm pretty sure he could see through space and time afterwards.
Take this milk, son. It's time for your vision quest.
Tl;dr: When Mom says you can't have any candy, don't try to sneak some candy. It'll bite ya back.
BETRAYAL BY EYE MAKEUP: THE AMY STORCH STORY
On Sunday morning, my very first thought upon waking up was that my arms were itchy. Very, very itchy. Also, I was pretty sure my eyes were open, but I couldn't really see out of them that well.
I got up and stumbled to the bathroom and squinted at my face, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with it. (I am not a morning person. My brain is not a morning brain, and often refuses to be very useful for awhile.)
Hives. Giant ones. All over my eyelids and scattered across my face.
"Huh," I thought, because I am a genius.
That when I realized the itchiness on my arms was also hives -- much smaller ones, but hundreds and hundreds of them, breaking out live and in real time as I watched, until they eventually overlapped and combined to cover my entire arms in unbearably red itchiness.
"Okay," I said, because I am a capable, articulate person with problem-solving skills.
A small sampling of my lovely skin, mid-break-out. If you think you're getting a photo of my busted-ass face from first thing in the morning you are wrong, because I have dignity and boundaries am vain as all hell.
I grabbed the Zyrtec and surveyed the bathroom counter for a few minutes before locking in on the culprit. An ancient pot of Bare Minerals eye shadow that I'd been using as a base color for the past couple days. I'd run out of my usual stuff and had dug it out of the bottom of the drawer.
I'd had one hive by my eye on Saturday morning, but oh fiddle dee dee, I'd thought, because I am a moron. A moron who put the Bare Minerals in the bottom of the drawer years before because SHE WAS ALLERGIC TO IT. And too much of a moron TO NOT JUST THROW OUT THE THING SHE WAS ALLERGIC TO.
Anyway, I am fine now. Antihistamines and cold compresses got the hives down after a couple of hours, and the Bare Minerals went in the trash, unable to lurk in my makeup drawer for like, another five years until I forget about it and decide that once again, it's such a lovely neutral color I wonder why I never wear it?
Tl;dr: This is all Ike's fault, really, for wasting all the makeup I'm NOT allergic to on our cat.