“The best phobia to have is to be scared of emus. You’ll never unexpectedly find them in the linen closet or hanging on the shower curtain.”
Pinky Ponker 2015.
Frame it.
But... I do have a very inconvenient phobia… about toxic cleaning products.
Not because I’m lazy and don’t like to clean, but because I’m scared of the carcigens. (Spell check didn’t recognise this word and changed it to ‘cardigans’ but I’m not at all scared of cardigans. Not unless they’re being worn by spiders or vampires.)
Oh… I just noticed after a quick google search, it’s actually ‘carcinogen’ not carcigen. That explains it. Now I think about it, I doubt anyone would be afraid of cardigans.
*Except this man.
Anyway, I bought an oven cleaner the other day and failed to read the instructions until I arrived home, when I went into an absolute, dribbling apoplexy and realised there was no way in hell I would risk my life on a frivolous task such as cleaning my stupid oven with the lethal product in my trembling hands.
But we’re selling our house and my fan-forced oven hasn’t seen the rough side of a sponge for thirteen years so something had to go down. The sides and bottom of the oven were quite respectable but the glass window was coated in a thick, impenetrable, brown concrete like substance, at least a centimetre thick.
I scarpered to my laptop and googled ‘ways to clean your oven that are unlikely to cause a fatal asthma attack or severe burns to the eyeballs’ and the first result I found was to turn up the oven to the highest temperature until everything is annihilated to a crisp and just flakes off with the light touch of a chux.
I passed on that one, strongly suspecting the oven fuse would definitely blow up or I’d end up setting the house on fire.
The second piece of advice suggested baking powder and vinegar.
Not only safe for the sinuses but CHEAP! I was on cloud nine and began preparing the gooey paste at once. There was only one problem with this eco-friendly solution.
IT DIDN’T FUDGING WORK!
AT. ALL.
So it looked like it was back to the chemical infusion of highly flammable, highly caustic, eye cauterising, skin eroding, windpipe scorching, run of the mill oven cleaner.
But meanwhile, I was still terrified I’d accidentally spray it down my oesophagus or inadvertently lick the nozzle in some kind of suicidal seizure… so I did the only sensible thing I could think of.
I asked Scotto to do the spraying.
I promised I’d return after work and mop up the greasy remains. All he had to do was spray the oven.
I arrived home excited and trembling and donned my hazmat suit in preparation for the decontamination at ground zero.
Anyway, I bought an oven cleaner the other day and failed to read the instructions until I arrived home, when I went into an absolute, dribbling apoplexy and realised there was no way in hell I would risk my life on a frivolous task such as cleaning my stupid oven with the lethal product in my trembling hands.
But we’re selling our house and my fan-forced oven hasn’t seen the rough side of a sponge for thirteen years so something had to go down. The sides and bottom of the oven were quite respectable but the glass window was coated in a thick, impenetrable, brown concrete like substance, at least a centimetre thick.
I scarpered to my laptop and googled ‘ways to clean your oven that are unlikely to cause a fatal asthma attack or severe burns to the eyeballs’ and the first result I found was to turn up the oven to the highest temperature until everything is annihilated to a crisp and just flakes off with the light touch of a chux.
I passed on that one, strongly suspecting the oven fuse would definitely blow up or I’d end up setting the house on fire.
The second piece of advice suggested baking powder and vinegar.
Not only safe for the sinuses but CHEAP! I was on cloud nine and began preparing the gooey paste at once. There was only one problem with this eco-friendly solution.
IT DIDN’T FUDGING WORK!
AT. ALL.
So it looked like it was back to the chemical infusion of highly flammable, highly caustic, eye cauterising, skin eroding, windpipe scorching, run of the mill oven cleaner.
But meanwhile, I was still terrified I’d accidentally spray it down my oesophagus or inadvertently lick the nozzle in some kind of suicidal seizure… so I did the only sensible thing I could think of.
I asked Scotto to do the spraying.
I promised I’d return after work and mop up the greasy remains. All he had to do was spray the oven.
I arrived home excited and trembling and donned my hazmat suit in preparation for the decontamination at ground zero.
Imagine the magnitude of my bitter disappointment when I discovered that the dangerous, noxious oven cleaner DIDN’T FUDGING WORK EITHER!!!
I suddenly lost my temper and began stabbing and gouging the glass window of the oven with a butter knife like a psychotic, frenzied housewife who just found out she’s run out of chardonnay and the local bottle’o is closed, until finally Scotto grabbed my wrist in his hand and held a strange scrunched object up to my face.
“Wet sandpaper, Pinky!” he rasped. “Let’s try wet sandpaper and elbow grease.”
So we knelt on the floor and scrubbed in little circular motions until I wanted to chew my arm off in frustration… but we got it clean in the end.
Yay.
I’m thinking I might use wet sandpaper on lots of things. Microdermabrasion?
What would you use it on?
“Wet sandpaper, Pinky!” he rasped. “Let’s try wet sandpaper and elbow grease.”
So we knelt on the floor and scrubbed in little circular motions until I wanted to chew my arm off in frustration… but we got it clean in the end.
Yay.
I’m thinking I might use wet sandpaper on lots of things. Microdermabrasion?
What would you use it on?
