The Man Garden

If you’re reading this then you’ll maybe wonder what the hell it has to do with bleach, but mark my words, people, I’ll find a way to put in that delicious word. You’ll also possibly wonder what the hell this post has to do with this blog, but by being here, not only do you know I am a bleach fan and have created a blog to tell the world about it, which some may consider weird in itself, you’ll also, from time to time, be privy to that side of myself that shows what a truly weird person I am.

I want to talk about The Man Garden. Weeds are unsightly little buggers at the best of times, aren’t they? Well, those in the garden can be ignored only so long before they become an ungodly mess and you’re fighting through them. I’m not talking about the back yard here, folks. No, I’m talking about THAT garden.

Due to things out of my control this past month, I had been unable to tend to the weeds as I usually would. I’m not an avid weedkiller by any means—I tend to get rid of them when they start becoming apparent; you know, prickly—but this month saw me turn into a yeti. Yes, I was much akin to an abominable snowman, raging around with my weeds a-swingin’ in the breeze. Not too pleasant.

Anyway, I checked under my arms prior to getting in the shower and noted, with much horror I might add, that the weeds there were, in fact, swaying in the breeze coming through the bathroom window. Yes, they were that long. I wondered briefly whether a field mouse would pop its twitching nose out of that scribble of bodily foliage and threaten to bite me if I so much as thought of mowing his hideaway. Of course, there was no field mouse, but still, the thought was there. While in the shower I thought (yes, I do that sometimes—seems I thought a lot in this period of my life), “Blimey, my legs are a bit hairy too.” So, as you do (or not, whatever floats your boat), I shaved my legs.

Then I had the chilled-right-down-to-my-goddamn-bones shock that between my legs was A MAN GARDEN! Ladies, you know what I mean, yes? Weeds creeping right up to my bloody belly button. How unsightly? I almost fainted against my steamed-up shower screen—one that had been BLEACHED (Yessss, get in! I added that beautiful word!) that morning.

The Man Garden clogged up my razor. The Man Garden clogged up my plug hole. Oh my goodness, The Man Garden was so rampant it had a life of its own, a mission to spread over my navel and have a cup of tea with my tits. This was NOT going to happen. I killed the majority with my blade, imagining myself as a scythe-wielding ghoul, going so far as to release a water-garbled pahahaha in the process.

Now, I’m seriously considering the waxing option. I’ve tried it before and did the usual—high-pitched scream, watering eyes, a muttered F word—but I’m now in fear of The Man Garden’s return. This must be prevented at all costs. That field mouse vision is scaring me to death.

Have a great, crazy day, bleach lovers! And check your gardens regularly.

The Joy of an Unexpected Bleachy Floor Wash

A bleach-filled bucket =
Highlight of my day.

Today in my bleachy world, I had much pleasure in being able to mop the floor again. It snowed here last night, so with the kids going out to play in the white stuff then coming in every five minutes to let me know how much fun they were having—Gawd bless ‘em—by the time night fell I was most overjoyed to see dirty wet streaks from the front door, through the living room and into the kitchen.

Marvellous. Out came the bleach bottle, my hands trembling due to my excitement, my anticipation of getting that first whiff of bleach today. Later, before bed, I shall liberally douse the toilet with the wonderful stuff too, knowing if I get up in the middle of the night to pee I’ll be greeted with the tangy aroma when I visit the loo. This is an event I greatly look forward to. On the nights I don't wake to pee, and I get up in the morning, hands clasped at my breasts as I make my jolly way to the bathroom, I'm most disturbed if someone else in the household got there before me and flushed the bleach away.

A day without smelling bleach is incomplete. I am bereft without a daily dose of the snazzy smell.

I may be considered weird for that, but I don't care. I love bleach and everyone should know it.

Until next time, Bleach Lovers…

Are You a Bleach Lover?

Have You Ever…?

Great for getting rid of that ghastly fem 'tache!

1. Not been able to afford blonde hair dye and contemplated using household bleach on your hair?

2. Gone swimming just so you can get a sniff of that oh-so-special bleachy smell only pools have?

3. Cleaned your bathroom without proper ventilation then wondered why, after using copious amounts of bleach, you feel light-headed, slightly sick, and tight-lunged?

4. After such an event as #3, found the smell of bleach has remained in your nostrils for the rest of the day (and you LOVED it)?

5. Poured thick bleach onto a cloth and loved the slidey way it went onto your wall tiles?

6. Slathered your bath with bleach, been distracted by the doorbell or some such other rude bleach-event disturbance, forgotten you bleached said bath, went to run yourself a nice tub of water later for a good old soak and got into it wondering why the smell of bleach was so strong and your skin started itching?

7. After someone had an accident in your house involving blood splatter on your floor, you mopped with bleach and water only to wonder whether Dexter and his Luminol would find remains of blood even though the floor appears clean? (Oh, the shame. I wondered this very thing today!)

8. Opened a bleach bottle just to get your daily sniff fix?

9. Cleaned, using bleach, while wearing black clothing? (When will I EVER bloody learn?)

10. Decided that although the fragranced bleaches are all very nice in pretty pink, yellow or turquoise bottles, there’s nothing quite like the original, eye-watering smell of regular bleach?

If you have done all or many of these things, you may well be exhibiting Bleach-Lover’s Behaviour. Therefore, you belong here, where you can discuss your love of bleach freely and without recrimination.

Bleach lovers unite!

Much love and bleachy whiffs, until next time…