I feel like the following post should have a warning…
VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED.
Or something of that nature. Because if you are a cleanly, organized person (or even someone with a normal amount of self respect) you will 100% have a minor stroke when you see the pictures I’m going to post of my car.
Don’t say you weren’t warned.
Literally, HOW DID WE GET HERE. And this is just a snippet of the backseat. Here’s the front.
If you’re one of the unfortunate souls who’s ridden with me as of late, I don’t think I even apologized for this. I’m pretty sure I just said, “Oh you can just sit on top of all the crap and don’t worry about stepping on anything.”
Another fair warning: I will be speaking in so many ALL CAPS that you really won’t even know what to do with me. Because the state of affairs in the life of my car is so chaotic that I feel ALL CAPS is quite necessary.
The last time my car was cleaned was when my mom surprised me by gutting the thing when Chip and I were in Vegas this past September.
The next question you might ask is… “Stephanie my dear, how did your car go from clean to breeding the black plague in just around 6 months?”
My answer? I DON’T HAVE ONE. It is so gross that as I filled 5 trash bags, 4 bags to bring inside to sort through and NINE almost full water bottles (how? how are there so many?) I just started snapping pictures because I was finding rock-hard food on the floorboards that I don’t even remember buying (much less eating) and texting them to Chip with hilarious blurbs.
Let’s walk through some of the highlights of the purge, shall we?
I know what you’re thinking: “Stephanie, was OJ in your car?”
No, but Chip Stanesic was. Poor guy had his annual eczema outbreak and he was wearing these bad boys (that were 3 sizes too small , mind you.. Again, reminiscent of OJ). If you’ve seen Chipper in the last month or so, chances are you spotted him in these. He had to keep those suckers well lotioned, friends.
This is a bag of corn.
The backstory, you ask?
Frank brought this home from “Texas Day” at preschool, where the 3’s class shucked corn.
He handed it to me and said, “you cook dis, mommy.”
Needless to say, it didn’t get cooked. It didn’t even make it in from the car. Bob somehow got a hold of it and gnawed away (read: teething baby) for the 25 minute ride home and now it’s growing things.
However, Bob had a free pass that day. This is the picture I received from his teacher:
Each child was getting their picture on the pony. Why Bob decided to have a meltdown is an answer that only he and the Good Lord know. The man-child HAS A MINIATURE DONKEY. That he’s sat on countless times. Pull yourself together, Bob.
Also?? Please note how cute he is in that blue bandanna. **heart emoji eyes**
I’m getting off track. Back to my nasty car.
I wore this beanie on December 9th when I went to watch my sister-in-law race a half marathon.
I then proceeded to throw it into the backseat. I’m 96% sure that is dried, spoiled milk.
And the little cracker thing is part of a goldfish with cat hair attached. How the cat hair got there? The world may never know. Also, how is it STUCK to the beanie?! Again, we’re building a mystery, people.
You’re thinking correctly. That is MOLD. Hairy, brown and green MOLD.
This may have been a low-blow picture, I’m not sure. I’m sorry if you hate me for posting this, but the world needs to see it. It doesn’t get worse than this, folks.. Except maybe this one:
Last one, I promise. Let’s go over the elements:
1: A half eaten slice of pepperoni pizza.
HARD. AS. A. ROCK.
2: The stick from one of Frank’s beloved “ya-yee-pops”.
3: The brand new bag of goldfish that we got from Aldi, which Bob decided to throw over the edge of his car seat, and to which Frank promptly picked up, dumped over, and SHOOK, all the while screaming, “Noooooo!!!! Mommy!!! BIG MESS!!!!!”
4: The remnants of a fruit tray I took to a Christmas Party in early-December, with napkins that have long since been petrified to it. (said black serving tray is currently soaking in the sink.)
What the picture couldn’t capture? The true essence of that french fry.
But know this:
I could whittle that thing into a prison shank.
Moral of the story, folks? If you’re feeling down and discouraged and just like you’re a little out of step, think of my car. I spend at least TWO HOURS A DAY in my car. And it was like this for months.
Think of that truth and stand a little taller, puff out that chest a little further and say to yourself, “At least I’m not a passenger in Stephanie’s Chevy Equinox.”
Buhlee dat. Cheers, friends.