Tag Archives: total take back

Total-Take-Back: New Car Smell

Last week I opened my car door to run a quick errand and this happened.

It was attacking me. And it wasn't pretty.

It was disgusting. 

Clifford walked over, took a whiff and had the same reaction as me.

That level of discust that turns your stomach, allowing you to revisit your lunch.

That level of disgust that turns your stomach, allowing you to revisit your lunch. Multiple times.

“What the hell is in there?” – Cliff

“Nothing! There’s nothing in here! I don’t understand…” – Me (trying not to hurl)

“Are you sure it’s not a french fry or something under the seat?” – Cliff

“A french fry?” – Me

Really? A french fry?

 A french fry?

“No. It’s not a french fry because I don’t eat in my car.” – Me

“Well there’s got to be something in there.” – Cliff

"..." - Me

“…” – Me

But before I could actually address Captain Obvious, he found the source of the offensive smell. I’d accidentally left a grocery bag on the back seat. Raw chicken and hamburger. For two days…



Never again.



Total-Take-Back: The Dishwasher

2015 is at an end, folks. It flew by so quickly. I did take some time to enjoy the holidays with the fam over the last week or so, but now it’s time for me to get back to business, or rather blogging. I had many failures with few successes this last year. Or rather I accepted lots and lots of character building opportunities versus not accepting any character building opportunities at all. In hindsight, just the latter would have been fine by me …

So to close out the last 365 days, I thought I’d go out with a Total-Take-Back. After all, you never want to move into a new year with regrets.

Roughly two weeks ago, Clifford discovered something about me. Something he has shared with pretty much everyone in earshot. Now, he never cares what I blog about and hates it when I blog about him, but he actually wanted me to post this one and share it with the world because he finds it hilarious. So this one is for my bearded hubs, hoping he’ll shave that monstrosity off his face in the next few months.

I had just started the dishwasher. I was attempting to clean the kitchen which seems like an endless task these days. Clifford walked in and asked me what the noise was. I didn’t hear anything, but then I’m half deaf. He looked at the dishwasher. I said, “Oh, well I started the dishwasher. Maybe that’s what you heard.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. “You don’t hear that? That ‘thud, thud, thud, thud’?”

“I hear the dishwasher. I suppose it’s ‘thudding’. So?”

SO, it’s not supposed to ‘thud’. Something’s wrong.”

Clifford reached for the dishwasher lock and slow motion kicked into gear. What was likely mere seconds felt like hours. First my head cocked in confusion, then my eyes widened in shock and fear as clarity dawned… I barely moved fast enough. I quickly stretched to slap his hand away as I screamed, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING???!!!”

Clifford paused with his hand next to the latch. Now it was he cocking his head in confusion at me. “I’m about to open the dishwasher and fix what’s making the noise. Why?”

I couldn’t speak. I didn’t have the words. I couldn’t articulate why he couldn’t open the dishwasher door. Everyone knows why you don’t open a running dishwasher. What was wrong with him? Though my mouth couldn’t move, my eyes spoke volumes.

Clifford tilted his head a little more and began to smile. He had this look in his eye, a look I hate because it means he thinks he has one on me. “Libby, what do you think will happen when I open the dishwasher?”

What was he even asking me? It was obvious. I stood up straighter and now I was looking at him like he was crazy.

“Seriously … what do you think is going to happen when I open the door?” His smile got bigger and he flicked the latch for access.

I gasped. I am not being dramatic here, I physically gasped while shaking my head and covering my mouth. Was he a total idiot?

There was a stare off between us that lasted minutes. He smirked and I stood petrified that he was really going to go through with it. He was going to open the dishwasher door mid-cycle. I didn’t know what to do.

Then he spoke with that stupid knowing look stuck on his face, “You think the dishwasher is filled to the top with water and it’s all going to come rushing out, flooding the kitchen, when I open the door, don’t you?”

Well, duh.

My face must have given away my exact thought because he started laughing and opened the door. I was able to manage a desperate pleading, “CLIFFORD!” as I tensed and anxiously braced myself for the water to consume my kitchen floor. I closed my eyes, prepared to feel the dirty dishwater gushing around me.

I felt nothing. I heard Clifford’s loud guffaw. I opened one eye. There was no water flooding my floor. No dirty dishwater gushing around my feet, splashing my face and tainting my clothes. What the …? I didn’t get it.

So yeah, maybe I did think the dishwasher fills to the top with water and yes, maybe I’ve thought that for the last 30 odd years. Clifford never made me watch that episode of Modern Marvels, ok? I guess now I can move forward into 2016 knowing the dishwasher may be opened mid-cycle and it won’t be like The Great Mississippi flood of 1927 all over again.

Happy New Year, people, wherever you are…



Total-Take-Back: Frankie’s Parking Brake

I’m not sure if I really consider this a take-back. More like a probably-shouldn’t-have-done-it kind of moment? It was Christmas break and I was visiting a friend in Boston. I’d flown out for the New Year and then he and I were going to drive from Boston to Chicago and then back down to Savannah for the new semester of school.

Anyone who knows me knows I am all about road trips. I will drive pretty much anywhere given the choice. I don’t mind flying, it’s a control thing. I like having control. That combined with security lines, airport hassles, delays, tarmac waiting, and crying babies in an oxygen deprived confined space makes driving my preferred method of travel, if time allows.

So there we were, Frankie and I, driving cross-country from the North East Coast to the Midwest in the dead of winter. The plan was to take turns driving. Not a problem for yours truly, used to trekking long distances via four door sedans. Although I can’t remember if Frankie’s car was a four door sedan. It was a Kia. Like a 2000 Kia. Did they make four door Kia’s back then? Oh, and it was the size of a matchbox. Regardless it was Frankie’s precious vehicle and likely most prized possession next to his Macintosh computer.

We’d taken off in the evening, planning to drive overnight and miss most of the daytime traffic. It was my turn once we hit New York State. Somewhere near Buffalo, a solid 300 miles of me behind the wheel, is when I realized the parking brake was on. Frankie was fast asleep on the passenger’s side. It was like 2 in the morning. So I did what any person realizing they’re driving with the parking brake on at speeds upwards of 80mph does – I nonchalantly released it. And totally swore to NEVER do it again.  And I didn’t. Till after the rest stop in Pennsylvania… oops.

In my defense, who uses a parking brake to actually park? Especially on a solid flat surface? I never told him what I did. Not really sure he had any parking brake left after I had at it. Probably should have told him …The lesson should be don’t let me drive your car, but really I think we all know it’s never to use your parking brake unless you’re in San Francisco.


Total-Take-Back: The Miracle Of Childbirth

I admit that when it comes to anything relating to having babies, I am not the go-to for answers. Sadly, Clifford knows more about the miracle of childbirth than I do (which says A. LOT.). I am pretty darn ignorant on the subject. Chalk it up to not really listening in health class and being completely disinterested in babies, the human body, and sometimes science.

So let’s just say, the day I learned vaginal blowouts are an actual thing … yeah, there’s no coming back from that. Ever.

So wrong. So very very wrong.

So wrong. So very very very wrong.


Total-Take-Back: A Summer Movie

It was the summer of 1995. My friend Justin Bennett and I found ourselves pretty bored, as one does at the age of 15 when he can’t drive and the world isn’t exactly his oyster. In a sleepy small town like we lived in, boredom was inevitable even if you had a license and the world was many oysters all for you. Anyway, we needed something to do. We decided to make the mile and a half trek across town to rent a movie.

We entered the Red D Mart (yep, our Red D Mart gas station rented movies at one time). We deliberated quite a bit, hemming and hawing over what seemed like humdrum choices. Nothing really screamed “RENT ME.” After reading the backs of half of the boxes, we finally found one that didn’t look too bad. It was a romantic comedy. We could do that. There was supposed to be a love triangle. A total trope, but we could do that, too.

We paid for the rental and walked back to my house. We entered the living room and powered up the VCR. I remember my mom sitting in her chair clipping coupons.  She smiled at us asking if we’d found something fun to watch. We grunted and nodded absently. I remember my brother was there, too. He must have been home from college killing time or something. He decided to watch the movie, too.

Justin popped the VHS in the player and we began the film.

The movie was rated R, but the Red D Mart wasn’t exactly id’ing anyone for a dollar rental back in the day. As the story began, I realized little by little that this movie was different. Sort of early 90’s progressive different… Now people who know me may think know I have a dirty mind and sense of humor. Though that may be true, there was a time on this Earth where I was pretty naïve. This was one of those times.

Justin and I watched with my mother and brother as three college students were randomly thrown together to become roommates forced to share a suite in their university dorm. One would think with the stereotypical Hollywood mix of three vastly different personalities interacting and clashing, hijinks were bound to ensue. As the tagline to the movie went: One girl. Two guys. Three possibilities. So maybe not When Harry Met Sally material, but surely a fun filled comedic romp that would make us laugh and forget ourselves for the better part of 93 minutes.

It was a romp alright. A sexual romp of EPIC proportions. The movie was called Threesome, and back then, this girl thought “Yeah, three friends in a love triangle figuring it all out. Makes perfect sense.” This girl thought wrong.

See, this love triangle was different – THE GUY likes THE GIRL. THE GIRL likes ANOTHER GUY. ANOTHER GUY likes THE GUY… oh 90’s, how I miss you and your boundary pushing.

We watched as nudity abounded on our screen. Yeah, like that isn’t awkward when you’re 15 and one of your closest friends of the opposite sex is sitting next to you on your left while your mother is sitting on your right. BUT, it got better…

While the cast of characters fumbled through their romantic frustrations, we suddenly reached a point in the movie where the roommates went from a close friendly trio to an all out threesome. The S-E-X kind of threesome. Like I seriously didn’t know that was a thing threesome.

Justin and I stared mortified at the television, watching as the camera went from filming the three lying in bed together contemplating what to do, to panning above them so as to fully encapsulate the forthcoming shenanigans for the viewer to see.

Anxiety mixed with guilt mixed with shame overwhelmed me. Eyeing my brother, my mother and my close friend, I blurted, “We should fast forward!”

Justin responded quickly, jumping from the couch and heading straight for the VCR, ”Yeah. We should totally fast forward.”

Bless the inventors of the VCR. My friend and I were about to be saved from any further pubescent awkwardness and embarrassment.

Justin hit fast forward and fast forward it did – with a pretty crystal clear shot of what we were fast forwarding through. So instead of uncomfortably watching the three roommates becoming intimately acquainted at a slow drawn out pace, we got to watch Stephen Baldwin, Josh Charles and Lara Flynn Boyle go at it with one another like coked up rabbits who couldn’t get enough. So, yeah. There was that. Like I said, it got better. *cough

If there was an instant rewind in life, that would have been a moment to use it.  I don’t embarrass easily, but that movie in front of my mother, my brother and my friend had me wanting to crawl under the covers and die. I think it was worse for Justin. Poor Justin Bennett … wherever you are, I am so sorry for our poor life choice on that sunny summer day in 1995.

Threesome. If you have to watch it, watch it alone.

Threesome. If you have to watch it, watch it alone.


Total-Take-Back: The Mickey Cake

My nephew’s 1st birthday was last weekend. He’s obsessed with Mickey Mouse. My sister wanted to create the picture perfect Mickey cake.

The Perfect Mickey

The Picture Perfect Mickey Cake (http://www.littlebcakes.com/minnie-mouse-cakes.html)

She enlisted my help, and received what I like to call a CONCEPTUAL version of Mickey (that just happens to look like his face is being melted by the sun).

Melting Mickey ...

Melting Mickey …

But that’s not the part that seemed to throw my sister. Something wasn’t right and apparently it wasn’t the Oompa Loompa suntan Mickey’d  received. It was his nose. So she fixed it.

Hitler Mickey

yeah …

Mickey quickly went from George Hamilton to Hitler in the span of five seconds flat.

Love your children, but know your limits. Don’t do this to your kids, folks. Please…


Total-Take-Back: Diet Pepsi

Nastiest pop around.

Nastiest pop around.

My best friend agrees, so it’s kind of official.




Total-Take-Back: The Unicorn

Don't be this woman. Be the person who thoughtfully and lovingly purchased it for this woman.

Don’t be this woman who wears unicorns while having lonely little tea parties in her living room. Be the person who thoughtfully and lovingly purchased the unicorn for this woman to wear while having lonely little  tea parties in her living room.


Total-Take-Back: Potty Mouth

My brother decided 2014 was the year of extremely thoughtful and personal gift giving. He was very excited to give us Poo-Pourri. Please, watch.

It was a little Christmas gift set. There was the traditional Poo-Pourri, which you shake and spritz into the toilet, alleviating any foul stench in the air, and it was accompanied by a little mouth spray like Binaca called Potty Mouth.

Poo-Pourri mouth freshener and toilet spray.

Poo-Pourri mouth freshener and toilet spray.

I was brushing my teeth and I’d never used a mouth spritzer before. Sure I’ve used Listerine and other mouth washes, but I’ve never used Binaca or something like it. The flavor of this spray was Candy Cane.  Couldn’t be too bad, right? I thought I’d try it out. So I grabbed the spray from the counter and released a few pumps into my mouth.

It was the most wretched, foul-tasting thing that has ever hit my tongue! I was gagging over the bathroom sink. How could this breath booster be so awful?!!! Then I realized I hadn’t shaken the bottle like you do with the Poo-Pouri. All of the minty freshness must have settled at the bottom. I shook the bottle rigorously and reluctantly sprayed the supposed Candy Cane pleasantness back into my mouth. Again, I gagged.

What sort of disgusting mouth spray did my brother buy us? I grabbed my toothbrush and rapidly began scrubbing my tongue as hard as I could to remove the revolting taste that seemingly stained it forever.

This had to be a terrible prank. I grabbed the bottle to look at the ingredients. Was this some ridiculous Spencer’s gag gift my brother had bought for a bit of personal merriment? Was he maniacally laughing somewhere at my gullible expense?

I was looking at the label when I saw it. I’d been spraying the Poo-Pourii repeatedly into my mouth. I’d used the wrong bottle.

We won’t ever talk about this again.

PS – the actual Candy Cane stuff was pretty good.


Total-Take-Back: Being Sick

Which I am. Right now. Really sick. Hating colds.

That's me. Today. (http://giphy.com/search/sick-day)

This is me. Today. (http://giphy.com/search/sick-day)