Today, I (27F) fucked up by being an absolute idiot about chemical mixing. First, the original story…
This all occurred last night under the influence of drugs so know this is one of those MTV “you’re not you when your high” ads.
TIFU by burning my hand with chloroform…
Today, I (27 F) fucked up by burning my hand with chloroform. Yes, you heard that right. It all started a long time (2 hours) ago.
Prelude: I am fucking toasted brothers so please forgive me for potentially typing this in the following genres:
– Redditor
– Knights at the Roundtable
– Lola Ugfuglio Skumpy
– Cowboy
– Midcentury Hag
I decided to end the night with a snack and a hit of ol’ pennifer. I opened my fridge to procure perhaps a babybell? Perhaps a glass of chocolate milk? Sidebar: Don’t worry it’s soy milk and cheese doesn’t have dairy so sayeth the knights. It was ghastly. Each shelf stuffed to the brim preventing me from getting stuffed with a gosh darn babybell!
I decided it was time to do the dreaded task of cleaning the fridge at 10:30 PM which in itself should sum up my decision making skills. I reckon my two roommates would be met by surprise and delight when they get up in the morn’ and see a clean fridge Sidebar: We’re all equally sloppy so no talk about bad roommates. Here’s where it get’s tricky. We have a fridge that beeps to remind you to shut it. At the time both my roommates were asleep. Thus, I had to do a wee bit of a song and dance to keep the beeps at bay. And not to boast my toast, but nary a beep came from the fridge.
After cleaning shelf one (drinks), I decided to start on condiments. The top shelf of condiments was foul. A jar of capers had tumbled and crystallized to the walls. I was a naive fool. I thought a simple sponge would alleviate me of my caper woes, but alas I had to sacrifice my thumbnail’s integrity to get them suckers up. Before I put the condiments back, I checked my phone and of course it was dead. I decided to get my charger and headphones from upstairs, so I grabbed my phone.
Then, my heart leaped into my nose. A wretched odor I did smell. Yes I did. I reckon it smelled like for lack of a better term… sweaty balls and farts. Yeehaw! (Is this doing cowboy right?) it was foul. I opened the trash to a disaster of my own doing.
Flashback Sequence
I was cooking dinner and retrieved a bag of mixed veggies from the freezer. They had expired on April 11th and I had put them in the freezer in around the 8th. Today is the 29th. Wouldn’t you know it, the freezing didn’t save the vegetables.
I bit into a carrot that I had microwaved to death because the veggies wouldn’t unfreeze. Defrost? Who cares?! This is Vegas baby! Sidebar: Not actually Vegas but it felt appropriate. I immediately spit it out because it tasted like wine. I chucked the whole lot in the bin and thought nothing of it.
End Flashback Sequence
The veggies had gone diabolically putrid. I grabbed flavored disinfectant (for her pleasure) to put over the smell. As I sprayed, I pondered the possibilities: Will this be enough? Will it just mix with the smell to make lavender scented sweaty balls? Will Scooby Doo and the gang finally catch the mill ghost?! For a moment, the lavender lifted to my nostrils and I revisited my fridge.
I paused realizing my fatal mistake. I had left my phone in the laundry room where I got the disinfectant. I retrieve my phone and turn to head upstairs before realizing I needed to put the condiments back. I put my phone down to put the condiments up, but I find an expired mustard. I go to throw it out and the smell has returned… with a vengeance.
I had angered the beast with lavender so I thought a new hero could defeat the wretched thing. Citrus flavored Poopoori (imagine this in a crimson chin voice), the oils… if they can stop the poop, they can stop the balls. I sprayed ferociously and for a moment peace was restored to the kingdom, honey!
I grabbed my phone and turned to go upstairs and I realized I had to put the condiments back. Upon inspecting the condiments, I found an expired teriyaki sauce. I return to the trash to have my worst fears realized. Lavender + Citrus Essential Oils + Sweaty balls. I gasp for air in its wake. Sidebar: And then I 100% took a hit of ol’ Pennifer immediately after gagging.
I couldn’t breathe so I knew it was time. I grasped the bag trying my best to hold it far from my body. I opened the garage to find I could not see a thing. I turned on the outside lights and turned to the trash can. Gadzooks! Today is trash day and we’ve already taken the trash to the curb. I sigh in despair before making my journey down the driveway. I threw away the beast and was excited to return to my fridge cleaning. But I was wrong. Oh so wrong.
I reentered and finally grabbed my headphones and charger and charged my phone. I, like any high person like to watch cartoons so I turned on Big Mouth (don’t come to hard for my girl even though she did do incest once). I continue my cleanup replacing the previous trash bag. However, I am struck again… what could it be?
None other than the ghost of the beast back for revenge. I thought no this couldn’t possibly be. I fought so valiantly in the previous battle. It wasn’t fair! I thought nothing can tame this wretched beast. Unless… another hero should arise.
Ahem! Pay attention class! ruler on blackboard
Ingredient # 1 to make chloroform: Rubbing Alcohol.
I return to the laundry room, grabbing the rubbing alcohol. I pour it on the beast and I truly believed I had tamed her. I return to the kitchen counter, but where is my phone? I left it in the laundry room. I run back and as I approach the kitchen, I feel the stench has become a heat wrapping me in sweaty balls.
I thought I have to kill this thing from the inside out. I take the trash can out from the drawer and ponder what to scrub it with. Then, a glimpse of hope catches my eye: Clorox wipes.
Ahem! Pay attention class! ruler on blackboard
Ingredient # 2 to make chloroform: Bleach.
I wipe out the drawer no problem and everything is all fine and dandy, hunky dory, and things and such. Then I move on to the trash bag. I strip it from its home and place it on the floor. I thought Hmmm… I wonder if the alcohol leaked through the bag? I picked it up and felt the ground underneath with my foot. Dry as a bone.
I peer down into the trash can and there is a bit of liquid at the bottom. I thought That can’t be alcohol because under the bag was dry. Alas, I was a fool. A nincompoop. A regular ol’ filleygoon. I put my Clorox wipe into the liquid and began my clean of the can. Everything was going fine until… my hand started to burn.
I paused for a moment before it clicked. The alcohol sept through the trash bag. I panicked frantically googling what alcohol and bleach make: Chloroform Gas. I flipping bust my ass to get that trash can outside. All the while, the chemical scent grew stronger. I grabbed the hose and let loose on it. Sidebar: It had one of those power spray nozzles already on it, thank god.
I spray it until I can’t smell the chemicals anymore. Then I go down the driveway diluting everything with water as best I can. I feel some peace as I retrieve a towel to wipe my trash can down. I replace it in the drawer. Then, I feel it duh duh duhhhh… The Burn
I remember a minuscule amount of science safety from high school chemistry, but I manage to come up with baking soda. I leap to the cabinet running outside to the patio. I pour way more baking soda than I needed onto my hand rubbing it in. I come in and wash my hands with soap and water to get the baking soda off. Yet the burn persists.
In the belly of the beast, I turned to the companion I had counted on once before: Google. Run your hands under cold water for 20 minutes. I’m sorry I must’ve read that wrong. 2 minutes? 20 minutes. In this economy?! Heck freaking nah dude. Ain’t flying by me.
However, in my ~elevated~ state, I was severely panicking over whether I needed to go the emergency room or not. 20 minutes of water won’t be as expensive as the emergency room, right? I had no idea. Thoughts had exited my mind. The only thing that existed in that moment was me, the burn, and the heat of those gd sweaty balls.
I put my hand under the faucet and set my timer. I run it for around 10 minutes and decide it’s not worth it. I did not have gauze as Google suggested first. However, I did have a clean towel to wrap around it. I grab the towel and wrap it before realizing I needed something to hold it in place. Ahhhh. A chip clip. But not just any old chip clip. The worst chip clip known to man. The Ikea Bavara Sealing Clips. I attempted to resist but I was in dire straights.
Safe to say I didn’t clean out the rest of the fridge and my kitchen still smells like shit. Thank you for letting me ramble my woes. I bid you adieu.
Tl;dr: I was cleaning out my fridge when I realized the rotten veggies I threw out were stinking up the whole kitchen. After a series of crazy events, I managed to pour alcohol into my trash can then clean it with a Clorox wipe. This led to a chemical burn that I bandaged with a towel and a chip clip.
End drug commercial
Now onto today’s fuck up. Someone commented on my original post and said “Clorox wipes don’t have bleach in them.” They were right. Clorox wipes don’t have bleach in them. I removed the towel and my hand was completely fine. Turns out I was just paranoid.
Tl;dr: I thought I made chloroform but turns out I was just high.