You Dropped A Bath Bomb On Me

Okay, first, sorry I missed last week.

I’m having some significant coping issues right now.

Everything seems too much. Jeff Epstein’s “suicide”. The president and his wife posing with an orphaned infant when his words caused the infant to be orphaned in the first place. We have a recession looming and I don’t know that we aren’t going to go all in on fascism.

I knew it would be bad. But I still get gut punched. Every fucking day.

So, I haven’t been up for writing and have sucked at responding to comments. But please know, I love you all and I value our community here.

I know we’re all doing the best we can. I have to give myself a break.

I’m not going anywhere. I’m just floundering a bit.

But that isn’t what I want to talk about.


I want to talk about bath bombs.

First, the title. Remember that song You Dropped A Bomb On Me? I hated that song when it came out.

But after decades have passed? If I hear it now, I’m singing along. I will be singing ” Eye. Eye Eye. Eye Eye Eye” at the top of my lungs. Same goes with Ice Ice Baby and Hammer Time.

What does that have to do with bath bombs?

Absolutely nothing. Welcome to my head.

So, it’s Saturday and we made the decision to do the bare minimum of responsible adulting and to spend the rest of the time watching TV and being slugs.

I decided to take a hot bath, which is something I love to do, but don’t often do.

I fucking love bath bombs. Especially when little surprises pop out at the end. I had a tube of bath bombs for the longest time, but they have since been consumed.

A month or so ago, I found a shimmery gold bath bomb at TJ Maxx. It sat in the cabinet above my sink and was pretty much forgotten about until this morning.

I learned that one should never, ever buy a gold bath bomb.

Do you know what gold bath bombs make your bath water look like after they dissolve?

What this shit is this? This looks like infected piss. My bathwater looks like it was collected from the failing kidney ward at the hospital. Holy shit. 

No, wait. Beer. It looks like beer. Definitely beer. 

It does not look like beer. It looks like snow that has been driven through and then pissed on by a Great Dane. 

And what is that smell? What is it. It’s not a piss smell. It’s…ginger? Maybe ginger? I don’t fucking know. 

I couldn’t get past the fact that I was bathing in what appeared to be hot, infected pee.

Anyway, my relaxing bath didn’t last long. I mean, a little blue flower popped out at the end of the bath bomb, but it just looked sad, floating there on top of what looked like pee mixed with Dr Pepper.

I started the shower and rinsed off.

The residue around my tub makes it look like I don’t clean my tub enough. Which is entirely true.

I guess that will be on my agenda for Sunday.

I’m not giving up the rest of my slug day.

I hope you all are well and weathering the storms that keep coming at us in waves. I’m glad you are here. I am glad I am here, too.


Photo courtesy of PublicDomainPictures.

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  • So far I’ve never used a bath bomb, and I can’t remember the last time I took a bath, but now I want to. Not only for the surprise at the end but…your descriptions… You should be writing the ad copy for bath bombs. Especially gold bath bombs. It would appeal so much to those of us who’d buy them just to say, “Oh wow, I’ve gotta see if this is really as terrible as it sounds.”
    Also there will be those people who probably find beer that looks like slushy snow that was pissed on by a Great Dane, but, hey, we all have to find what makes us happy in these trying times.

  • I’m glad we’re all here, too.
    Our little safe corner in a scary, double-crossing, politically-charged atmosphere.
    Thank you for that.
    And the good advice of avoiding the gold bath bomb <3

  • I just found you. Where have you been?
    Can I come over? We have so much to talk about.
    Wait, I don’t want to fucking see you in person; I don’t like people on actual person. Well, maybe you I would.

  • I would say that I don’t use bathbombs because of my delicate skin, but the truth is that I don’t like baths. I am too tall or the tubs are too short. Some essential part is always left out of the water, and if I switch off parts, the switched part is evaporating and cold.
    It is nice that we are all here, a safe, secure little space that we can relax in. Thank you for building it. It is nice to hear from you whenever you feel like writing.
    Things have been really rough lately, and the outside world feels scary but remote. You know the Cranberries Zombies song, with their bombs, and their bombs? that’s kind of been the relatives lately.
    The news from Portland really kind of scared me though, especially the T’s response.
    In good news, husband had a little time off last week, and we saw Once Upon a Time In Hollywood in a new theatre with comfy seats, in the middle of the week in the middle of the afternoon, and it’s awesome in it’s revision of history. (Spoiler ahead: The bad guys get it in the end, the good guys win, and they all live happily ever after.) And things blow up real good. Most of the violence is at the end and is pretty cartoony. Flame throwers are involved.
    So this weekend we watched the revisionist history Inglorious Basterds, where the good guys win and the bad guys lose in a really fantastical explosion. They blowed up real good.
    I love movies where the good guys win and I love movies where things blow up real good. It is better than relatives where things blow up real messy.

    • I haven’t seen Hollywood yet, but I am looking forward to it. I LOVED Inglorious Basterds. The opening scene with the dairy farmer was brutal, but such a good fucking scene.

  • I’ll be singing that song all day in my head…with the changed lyrics of course! I’ve been struggling for months over this shit but it just keeps getting worse & worse. My grandkids started school today so there’s that. Now I get to stress about gun violence for the next 12+ years. Bath bombs freak me out a little.

  • Yay! Michelle posted again!
    I was assaulted with that song at work for a couple of years (not just that one, but it was in fairly heavy rotation) and my boss used to see me grumbling and tell me “You can put on Motorhead or the Meat Puppets if you want to, Doug” and I would sometimes do that, but rarely, as I was aware that I was doing to the KMEL loving employees the same thing I didn’t like them doing to me with KMEL…
    Sometimes I did it anyway, and one time I was blasting “No Sleep At All” and Lee came up to me and said “This is pretty raw” and I said “Really? No shit?” He said he liked it better than the more pop music I sometimes played, because it made him feel more like working.
    I lived in a couple of houses that didn’t have showers and had to take baths to get clean. It wasn’t convenient for me, as I am six feet tall and have long hair, but it was OK.
    Just don’t put shag carpet in an upstairs bathroom with an old clawfoot tub in it, because you’ll get dry rot and the tub will fall through the floor.
    Well, not “through” the floor, but down level with it before the lip catches on the joists and arrests its downward motion. And of course it won’t fall until you fill it and step into it. And as you’re (or really I was) naked and stoned and freaking the fuck out, there’ll be the voice of Melinda, the downstairs neighbor thanking you for dropping in on her…
    I hope things get better for you this week. Actually I hope that for almost everyone.

  • I absolutely adored your article. You had me in stitches from beginning to end. The only thing I kept thinking was after taking a bath and that gold bath bomb was you had to be looking like shimmering trinket.
    Thanks for giving me the best laugh I’ve had in a long time.

    Warmly Georgeina
    BTW , my business is luvt hat scrub and I make bath bombs as well. Honestly I use flowers and herbs but never glitter. Lol
    Currently myweb website is under construction , uploading new product, and removing others.

    • Thank you so much!! It wasn’t really glittery, just had like a shimmer to it. Which was super an oil slick on top the infected pee.

  • I would have thought a gold bath bomb would have a twinkly fairy musical thing happening…that’s a disappointment! As for the other shit…heavy sigh. Hang in there, we all need each other. xo

  • Whole Foods 365 ice cream pints were on sale and there may be more than a handful in the freezer, just saying. And I bought the cutest Bigfoot plush. Comfort comes in many forms (for those of us with insufficient bath facilities.) It’s important to be prepared for CT scans and the evening news.

  • I actually think this is one of the most political things you have ever written. Aren’t we all bathing in smelly piss water everyday, only to shower it off and have the residue remain? And when we do find those occasional flowers, we really don’t know to make of them as they float in all the pee. So don’t try to fool me — politics are even interfering with hot baths. Thanks for all you share.

  • Three things. First, you never need to apologize to us. We appreciate it, but it’s not necessary. We all understand, and will always be here for you because “We love you, your wisdom and your sense of humor”. Second, when you need a break?, fucking take it! And third, I am afraid of bath bombs.

  • I’m glad we’re here too – especially you, because you make me laugh, and laughter is good medicine. Even in this weird trumpian dystopia we find ourselves floundering in. So, thank you.

  • I’ve been adulting hard all week, so I’m finally getting around to blogging and reading blogs! So, yes, I was singing as soon as I saw your title, and in my latest (well, Part the First of a three-part) post, I discuss a different take on your bath bomb discussion… so, I’m right there with ya.

    Welcome back to the world! You have been missed. 🙂

  • One of your commenters and one of my favorite bloggers, Harry Hamid, passed away yesterday after a battle with cancer.

By Michelle


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