Yeah, so, given that this has brown sugar in it, it’s not really paleo (if you’re into that). It’s still on this meat-head’s channel, though, so I’m going to assume it’s not that bad for me.

You start by baking your sweet potatoes. If you’re me, you do this in the microwave and don’t get them quite all the way cooked because you’re impatient, but cooked enough so that they burn the shit out of your fingers when you cut them open and scoop them out. Drink a Diet Pepsi to dull the pain.

Next, add all the other ingredients to the sweet potato innards. These include lots and lots of bacon that you made your husband cook because you are still deathly afraid of flying grease, brown sugar (as mentioned), green chilis (from a can, because really), and coconut milk.

So far, this actually looks pretty good, and sounds like it will taste amazing, right? Well, I thought so, too. And then I mixed it all together. Oh dear.

I’m willing to take the blame for most fails in my kitchen, but I really can’t understand how something that looks this much like vomit ends up being at all appetizing. I mean, I know there’s video evidence of this (above), but what the actual fuck?

Part of the problem is that I don’t have a piping bag like Chef Burly, but let’s be honest. That can’t be the entire reason that these look like tiny barf barges.

Sadly, broiling them didn’t improve the looks much. They did taste better than they looked, though, so there’s that. Set the bar low and rise above, people. That’s how I do.

I admit, I’m not a real big bath person. I mean, by the time you fill the tub (hoping all the while not to run out of hot water), gather your reading materials or music or whatever, and contort yourself into said tub, it’s a little hard to, you know, relax.

The sponsors of this post, Sterling, have this new bath door that helps with that contorting part.

But more on that later.

I decided to test a detox bath for you today. This one is for sick people, and I’m not sick (besides my general sick sense of humor), but I was curious anyway.

Image from Beauty Bets

(I promise there will not be any naked grinning pictures of me.)

This detox bath is relatively simple compared to some of the other ones I’ve seen. It’s just hydrogen peroxide and ground ginger.

Granted it’s a lot of hydrogen peroxide: 3 pints, which is a bottle and a half. It’s also a lot of ginger: 2 ounces. This bottle is 1.6 ounces and was partly used, but ginger is expensive so I dumped what was left of it in there and called it good.

My husband was with me when I bought the ingredients for this, and I have to tell you that he was pretty worried for me. “Isn’t that the stuff you use to bleach your hair?” Number 1, I do not bleach my hair so I have no clue. Number 2, if it says you can gargle or swish with it, it can’t be that bad. (Apparently you can use hydrogen peroxide to lighten your hair. So I don’t know. I guess this was probably ill-advised from the start.)

Anyway, I dumped all that stuff in the tub.

Gross, right? And now just imagine that you’re already feeling sick and now you’re going to climb into that mess. Bleh.

I was expecting it to have a chemical smell, but the hydrogen peroxide didn’t smell at all really, so the only smell was a little bit of smell from the ginger, but it wasn’t strong at all.

I did my requisite 30 minutes. (It was all of 30 seconds before I gave up on just relaxing and listened to an audiobook instead.)

I did not feel the toxins seep from my body or anything. Just sayin. And it’s not like there aren’t toxins, guys. You’ve read this blog. If alcohol counts as a toxin, well, I’m probably toxic.

Here’s the bath water after I got out:

I’m not really sure why I felt the need to share that, but I thought maybe it would be like one of those nasty ion foot baths where the water turns all gross just from stuff it purportedly sucks out of your disgusting foot pores. It actually just looks like the ginger dissolved a little more and some of the humid summer slime of the day came off of me in the tub, which is true.

So am I detoxified? Well, if I was detoxified immediately after the bath, I wasn’t for long, because I followed it up with a glass or three of wine. (Dude, I had to go to Target to buy the hydrogen peroxide, and I can’t make a trip to Target without getting a wine cube, too. That’s the rule.)

So what could have made my whole bath experience better? Probably this way cool sliding shower door. It has a flexible track, which is comfortable, easy to clean, and a smart addition to any showering space. It’s great for bathing kids, washing dogs, lolling in the bath with your feet up, or whatevs (all the stuff you can’t do with a hard shower track). Sterling shower doors with ComforTrack technology are available for BOTH bath doors and shower doors. How cool.

So gimme some of your bathtime routines. You know, the ones you can share in polite company. (Or not. I ain’t your mom.)

And probably skip the hydrogen peroxide bath, you know, just in case it bleaches all your body hair or something. (The jury is out on that one. I’ll get back to you.)

But I fell in love with these cute little kid skirts.

Image from makeit-loveit.com

I decided I had to make one, since I have a lot of my husband’s old t-shirts in the closet and this would, of course, translate to a fully grown (and oversized, if we’re being honest) adult.

I forgot to take into account that all the t-shirts my husband doesn’t want to wear as t-shirts anymore are ugly.

I also forgot that I don’t like short skirts, and it turns out that once you cut the arm part off a t-shirt, even one that a full-grown man wears, it’s gonna be short. And that’s before you add the elastic.

Still, I had already started, and so I plunged ahead. With red thread. Here is where I tell you that this is a not-even-close-to-10-minute skirt if you don’t have a sewing machine. It’s more like a 30-to-40-minutes-of-shoulder-cramping-finger-bleeding-pain skirt.

And that’s if you totally blaspheme your way through the shittiest sewing job ever just to get it done in a semi-reasonable amount of time. I then secured the elastic in an equally shitty manner.

But, you know, I have to say that if you take into account my lack of skills, lack of sewing machine, lack of a nice t-shirt, and fat ass, this didn’t turn out quite as bad as I was imagining. I did forget that part of the reason this particular shirt was in the cast-off bin was because the hem had part-way come out, and I will never wear this skirt in public because I hate my thighs and my thighs hate me, but you know, it resembles a skirt and it is technically wearable as a piece of clothing in that it covers most of my butt, so there’s that.

Anyone want an ugly brown skirt meant to fit a giant butt?