June 1, 2018

my poor smelly heating pad

Crap, I have to write something today or there won't be a "June" link.

Last night, I learned that you should never lend your adolescent kid your new, extra-large, super-soft plush heating pad that heats up in thirty seconds and has more features than your dishwasher, when he's needing to use it as a hot compress to treat a boil in his armpit.

Even after making him shower before using it, it ended up funky-smelling, and then I realized that the cover is not removable like I assumed, and there are some Ikea-like symbols on it depicting what I think is spraying it with a water bottle while unplugged (yes, they had to say that part, but my kid chews things because of his ADHD and once I caught him chewing on a phone charger that was plugged into the wall, so I get it), and then there's a diagram of a man doing something that we can't quite make out, so I'm afraid of the heating pad now, and I'm just going to give it to the kid and pretend it's an act of goodwill and generosity and then go buy a new one at CVS.  They're not cheap, but the new one will not smell like testosterone-soaked armpit.  And it wouldn't be a big deal, except that when I'm not using the heating pad for cramps, I'm using it for a croggled neck, and that puts it close to my nose, so no.

My neck is croggled because I'm addicted to one of those seek-for-hidden-objects-in-the-picture games on my iPad.  I'm at level 164, which is probably why I'm getting "iPad neck" and I suspect I've actually damaged a cervical disc because it shoots tingling down into my arm sometimes.  There is a simple solution, which is to stop playing that game, but you'll notice I haven't stopped playing it because until yesterday, I had a heating pad to fix things.

This is a problem.

(Also, I apologize to Torani and DaVinci, because I was flat-ass wrong about the concept of toasted marshmallow sugar-free syrup for coffee, after burning through a box of Starbucks Toasted Graham pods.  Sweet Jesus in a tricked-out taxi cab, that stuff is good.  It's almost as good as Green Mountain's Wild Blueberry coffee.  Almost.)

Okay, so now this has snowballed and there are three people here at work, plus a phone-in, all Googling to find out what you call a man's beard exactly twenty-four hours after he's shaved, when he decides to go day-old.  I started looking because Sunbeam's web site (where the heating pads are) has these pics:



Note that he has to be buff with the as-yet-unnamed unkempt facial hair, slight graying, and fitted white tee.  I do question where the heating pad is plugged in and whether standing in the middle of the living room is a corporation's idea of a terrific place to treat shoulder pain.

Meanwhile, she's more sensible:



Except that she's in the same god-damned living room, and she might be in terrible back pain, but she's got a glass of wine and just finished doing her nails.  I think she's faking it.  Nobody puts on mascara and that 1980s pink-purple eye shadow just to lie down and use a heating pad.

I love how they're both showing their wedding bands.  This heating pad has family values.  It is to be used only in an established, hetero-normative, upper middle class home.

This just in:  I involved our entire network and server team, and we have now, as a tech department, come up with "designer stubble" and "next-day shadow" and "overslept" and "my husband's is a Chia-Pet."

I think I prefer just dealing with legs.

No comments:

Post a Comment