“In the future everyone dresses like Katy Perry”

Oh sweet little blog, I have neglected you for FAR too long. And you, my dear readers, I’ve neglected you too. I’m sorry. If I could send you all fountain diet cokes and chocolate chip cookies as “I’m sorry presents”, I totally would. Because, really, is there anything better than fountain diet coke and homemade chocolate chip cookies? I think not.

There’s a LOT going on in my life at the moment and rather than bore y’all with the details, I’m going to gloss over everything. Because, frankly (ugh, I’m starting to sound like Newt Gingrich. Minus the Tiffany’s line of credit. And the megalomania), I’m entirely exhausted of talking about it. But I DO promise a post in the near future explaining everything. I just don’t have it in me right now. Besides, the weather is way too nice to be talking (or even thinking) about depressing things.

The long Easter weekend was just about perfect. I caught up with friends and family in the C-L-E that I hadn’t seen in forever (but there are still many many more that need to be remedied!) and had some much-needed downtime to relax.

Let’s recap.

Thursday was Cleveland Indians Opening Day, which happens to be one of my FAVORITE days of the year. Terry Pluto, one of my all-time favorite writers, wrote an excellent column about the tradition of Opening Day last week that I can’t even begin to sum up. Just click the link and read it, even if you’re not a baseball fan. If you’re a fan of family, traditions, history or have any sort of heart at all, you’ll appreciate it.

Opening Day always makes me think about my family, particularly my siblings and my dad (and by extension, my super-amazing late grandfather). Baseball for us, like many families, is special. It ties us together. Some of my earliest memories are going to baseball games at the old Municipal Stadium with my dad and grandfather. Because I was a picky eater as a kid, my mom ALWAYS packed me a sandwich (I hated hot dogs) and two orange Kool Aid juice boxes. Why two? One for me and one for my grandfather, duh (why I didn’t insist on three is beyond me. Sorry, Dad!). Now, I’m sure the last thing he wanted to drink at the ballpark was orange flavored sugar water and would have MUCH rather preferred a beer (these WERE the 1980s Cleveland Indians. Boozing was required to get through a game), he always humored me and acted like he couldn’t imagine sitting through a baseball game without one. Now that’s true love, people. I wish I had some pictures of the three of us at a game, but, sadly, the best I can do is the memories in my head. Or perhaps draw a picture. I’m very good with stick figures.

This clip from “Field of Dreams” (a Casa D staple growing up) that says it all. Baseball is a constant. It ties generations together. History is respected. There’s a reason on Opening Day you see so many families sitting together, three (or more!) generations laughing (usually at the Tribe’s expense) and cheering. I know one day if I ever have children, I’ll be taking them down to Jacobs Field (whatever, it’ll never be Progressive Field to me), each April, molding them into the sad little creatures the rest of the world knows as “The Cleveland Sports Fan”

Thursday also meant dinner with m’bestie, Sarah (or Kres, or Mama-to-be. She answers to them all). We hit up Angelo’s Pizza in Lakewood for a much needed catch-up session and some yummy margarita pizza. If you haven’t been there before (and live in the CLE), I highly suggest going. The dining area is quite small and fills up quickly in the evenings, but no worries. They do take out and delivery.

And, on Saturday, I FINALLY got to see THIS with my friend, Rachel.

I was so excited and so spastic about FINALLY getting to see Katniss and Peeta (and Cinna! Heart you so bad, Lenny Kravitz), I knocked my diet coke into my purse. So for the remainder of the day, I walked around with wet handbag that also smelled like diet coke. But it didn’t matter. I was too pumped about the movie to care.

I normally don’t get this excited for books-turning-into-movies (the Winona Ryder “Little Women” is an exception. I think I talked about seeing that movie for six months until it came out and my mother was forced to take me—and sit with me while I cried my little eyes out). We’ve already discussed my hatred for all things “Twilight” and I’m not huge on Nicholas Sparks/John Grisham/Whatever-Chick-Lit-Is-Being-Optioned-Today. That’s not to say I don’t like reading those books (with the exception of Nicholas Sparks. I can read one of his books and feel like I’ve read them all). I do. I might make an exception if my girl Jen Lancaster ever options one of her books into a movie. But normally, I’m a book girl. Always have been, always will be.

But, “The Hunger Games” won me over. And I’m happy to report Rach and I were NOT the oldest people in the movie theater.

However, we WERE the snarkiest. We can’t help it. It just happens. It’s innate in us. We BREATHE snark.

Not ten minutes into the movie, Rachel leans over to me and whispers (in a scary, futuristic voice) “In the future, everyone dresses like Katy Perry.” (if you’ve seen the movie—or even previews—you’ll notice that most of the people in it look like extras from a Katy Perry video or, at very least, like they’ve raided Lady Gaga’s closet).

I laughed so hard, I choked on my popcorn.

I’m sure we annoyed everyone else sitting around us with our running commentary: “Think that kid will turn into a werewolf now?” “Ohh, I wonder where Lenny got his gold eyeliner. I wonder if the girls at Sephora can help me later” and “There should definitely be an ‘Avengers’ type movie with Katniss, Peeta, Edward Cullen and Bella. And the ‘Babysitters Club’ can show up too. You know, to get our generation into it” (I should preface by saying that Rach and I have long ago said goodbye to our teenage years).

Sadly, I would definitely watch a ‘Babysitters Club Hunger Games” (No doubt Kristy Thomas would win. She’s a cutthroat bi-oytch, that one).

Easter was lovely. Lots of food and family. My mom, sister and cousins made my Aunt Carol a scrapbook (like the one we made for my grandmother) and we FINALLY finished it on Saturday. We were so pumped to give it to her and, no surprise, she loved it. Being away from family really makes you appreciate the time you do have.

So that’s it. I have to catch up on tonight’s episode of “The Voice” (Tony Lucca better be safe, or I’m blaming Christina Aguilera. But, whatever, I’d blame her for something else).

what happens when your dreams change?

Well, it hasn’t been WEEKS, but it has been much longer than I thought between posts. As you can imagine my life has gotten incredibly crazy: trying to tie up loose ends with my life up in the C-L-E and trying to get ready for the next act that will happen in Washington (I’m still shaking my head at that sentence. I can’t believe it!).

Besides trying frantically to find a place to live (MAJOR stress-inducer) and writing/tweeting/tumblr-ing my little heart out (yes, I watched BOTH NH debates last weekend. And, no, I didn’t play the GOP drinking game. My liver couldn’t take it.), I’ve been spending as much time as possible with my family/friends up here. It’s bittersweet. I’m so excited and awestruck at this opportunity, but I’m also a little sad that this chapter of my life is over. I’ve made some really incredible friends and had some really wonderful experiences in the last few years in Cleveland that I’ll take with me wherever I go. I’ll still be back to visit—one of my best friends growing up is getting married on St. Patrick’s day in Cleveland, plus I’m definitely going to be back for a certain BFF’s baby shower (whenever that may be!) and (of course) after baby Kres is born. Yes, it’ll be different, but that’s not always bad.

In other news, my dad had shoulder surgery (surgery #3!) on Tuesday. He appears to be doing much better after a rough day yesterday. He’s happily taking pain meds and watching a ton of NCIS reruns.

Lastly, I urge all of you to check out my friend/sorority sister, Amber’s blog Life After Dreams Change. Not only is she one of the sweetest and smartest girls I know, she’s a terrific blogger. She and I went through similar experiences recently (her with Med School and me with Law School) and she’s done a great job of chronically those tough choices and uneasy decisions. She’s a great reminder to me that you CAN chance your dreams (and your life!) and be excited (and happy!) about it. She’s now getting her PhD in Microbiology and I’m off to our Nation’s capital to become a journalist. Seven years ago if you would have told the two of us that, we would have laughed at you—we were so convinced that med school/law school was THE answer for us.

It’s funny how things change. And, right now, definitely for the better.

this should put a smile on your face

It seems like everyone is getting into the holiday spirit, including six year old, Aiden Moe (click on the link for the news story!) from Bryan, South Dakota.

The adorable (and bespecled) youngster used the $1000 prize he won to buy 100 pillow pets to give to kids staying at the Sioux Falls Ronald McDonald House (if you remember I wrote this about RMH a few weeks ago).

Aiden had been a patient at Brookings Hospital when someone gave him a pillow pet. He loved it so much and wanted OTHER sick kids to have one too. So instead of buying, well, whatever six year olds like (dinosaurs? baseball? I don’t know much about little kids), he used the money to help others.

What an awesome little boy. And a reminder that you don’t have to be an adult (or even have all your permanent teeth!) to make a difference in someone’s life.

And, if you’re looking for a great organization to support, might I suggest Cleveland Ronald McDonald House?

Holiday Panic! (and some crappy Christmas Carols)

Christmas is right around the corner. Seriously. It’s next week. How did that happen. I have exactly ZERO percent of my shopping done and I’m afraid of the mall. Well, not really (I do love to shop), but I hate! hate! hate! the mall during the holiday season, particularly the week before Christmas. It’s basically amateur hour—and let’s face it, if they awarded PhDs in shopping, I’d have graduated summa cum laude.

I consider myself a pretty good gift giver, mostly because when I shop for others, I’m obsessively organized. I have a list (Santa has his, Stacey has hers. Mine’s probably better because it’s usually sparkly and pink) with everyone I need to shop for, what I want to get them and where I want to get it (all organized by grouping). I try really hard not to veer too much from the list, otherwise I’d go wild (and broke). I LOVE shopping for other people and picking out the perfect present.

I haven’t even started my list this year.

I was going to do a little shopping today, but I ended up having a 2+ hour lunch at Tommy’s with one of my best girls, Sarah (aka Kres). I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks—she just finished her MBA and her last semester was a killer. We dished about everything and (of course) about Baby Kres (who will be making his/her debut into the world in May. I’m so excited and happy for her!).

During lunch, the conversation drifted towards holidays and specifically Christmas carols. I have an unhealthy love for cheesy Christmas songs (I own so many ridiculous holiday themed cds, it’s embarrassing). But, since I also have an extra snarky gene, I also hate on songs. A LOT. Kres hates a lot of the same things I do, so we make a fine team. We started talking about the 10 worst Christmas carols that we know. I’ve been floating this top ten list in my head for the past few weeks, but it was solidified today.

So, without further ado, the S-Dizzle Holiday Hates

10. Cherry Cherry Christmas — Neil Diamond

This is terrible. Period. I have an intense dislike of Neil (except in ‘Saving Silverman’—which is awesome(ly bad)) and this song makes absolutely no sense. Neil talk-sings his way through a bunch of non-sensical lyrics (a cherry cherry rock n roll holy happy Christmas? yuck) before screaming “It’s a Cherry Cherry Christmas Everyone!” at the song’s end. I don’t want to know what a Cherry Cherry Christmas is, much less have one. Grade: FAIL.

9. Please Daddy (Don’t Get Drunk this Christmas) — John Denver

I normally don’t mind John Denver—and his songs with the Muppets are an S-Dizzle favorite—but this song is awful. First of all, how ridiculous is it that a grown man is talking about being “almost 8 years old”. That alone makes it worthy of being in my top 10. Add in some schmalzy and terrible lyrics and Denver’s extra-twangy voice and it’s enough to make your ears bleed. Besides, I know lots of people that can only get through the holidays by drinking. Lets not make them feel bad, k? k. Also, didn’t Denver get arrested a few times for DUIs? Irony’s a bitch, I guess.

8. Christmas Conga — Cyndi Lauper

What’s worse than Cyndi Lauper singing? Cyndi Lauper singing with a Mariachi band. Add in a holiday theme and you’ve got a contender for the worst Christmas song of all time. Maybe she felt there was a hole in Mexican holiday music that Jose Feliciano can’t fill (seriously, how many versions of ‘Feliz Navidad’ can you really do??). In any case. she was either drunk or heavily medicated when she recorded this song. There’s no other explanation.

7. Merry Christmas With Love — Clay Aiken

Since I couldn’t put “Invisible” on this list (not a holiday song, damn my self-made parameters!), this is the next best thing. though not as stalkery as “invisible”, where it lacks in a future restraining order, it more than makes up for it in depressing visuals. Old lady? Check. Kids all gone? Check. Unhappy Ending? Double check. I don’t know if maybe Clay received coal (or maybe sporting goods?) too many years, but someone should let him know that people want to be cheered up when they listen to holiday music. Not take a prozac.

6. ANYTHING by Josh Groban

Just google “Josh Groban” and “Christmas” and you’ll be treated to a varied assortment of migraine-inducing holiday cheer. Or turn on your radio. Listen for five minutes. There is a 99% chance he will be on the radio. If driving, resist the urge to swerve into oncoming traffic.

5. Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town — Bruce Springsteen (or Justin Bieber)

This is a special countdown addition. While I don’t hate this song all that much (yes, it gets annoying. and quick), my aforementioned bestie, Sarah (see above) hates the Boss’s version. Me? I can’t stand the Biebs’ version, in all its tech-y, synth-y glory. Not to mention the kid thinks he’s the second coming of Usher (or maybe he thinks Usher is his dad? I don’t know).

4. Do They Know It’s Christmas? — Band Aid

This song has a special place as it is on both my worst and favorite Christmas song lists. I know it’s a terrible, schmalzy song…but I can’t help but secretly (or not so secretly) love it. Boy George, George Michael AND Elton John in one song? HILARIOUS. But you have to wonder what Bono thinks when he hears this song (except for maybe “why?”). On second thought, Bono probably has people to make sure that the song is never played in his presence. Ever. I do wonder what the proceeds from the song go to now? Maybe the “Peaches Geldof Criminal Defense Fund“? Just a thought. But seriously, why? Did Geldof wake up one morning and go “You know what’s missing in the holiday carol universe? a song about Africa.” Because nothing says Merry Christmas like starving Africans.

3. Blue Christmas — Elvis

Elvis ranks up there with Neil Diamond as someone that I could go forever without listening to (with the exception of the mega classic “Suspicious Minds” which is awesome). This song is the worst of anything Elvis has ever sung (and I’m including the mega awful Viva Las Vegas years). I can’t pinpoint exactly what makes me hate this song so much. Maybe it’s his voice and his inability to get through the song without stuttering (and this coming from someone that s-s-s-stuttered for the first twelve years of her life) or maybe it’s simply the fact it is a TERRIBLE SONG in all variants (not even the lovely Martina McBride could save this awful song).

2. Mary Did You Know — Kenny Rogers and Wynonna Judd

I don’t actually hate the song…when it’s not sung by a man whose plastic surgery should be on everybody’s ‘worst of’ list and the less famous Judd sister. I can’t quite put my finger on WHY I hate the song so much (maybe the fact it’s been overplayed the last few years) other than Kenny’s voice is grating and repetative…and then Wynonna jumps in, sounding like she just fell off a barstool and got into a fight on the way up. Terrible.

1. The Christmas Shoes — NewSong

Come on, are you REALLY surprised? This song manages to cause strong reactions in people. And not positive ones either. This song can (and has) single-handedly ruined the holiday season for people. You know the minute you hear this song, you’re going to be sulking and complaining for the next few hours about how terrible this song really is. If you are one of the lucky few to have never heard the song before, all you need to know is that the song is about a dirty little boy that wants to buy his dying mom shoes for when she meets Jesus. Yeah, because we all know Jesus is really concerned with what everyone’s wearing to heaven. Add in a guy that sounds like he really “feels” the music, a children’s choir and more insipid lyrics that what’s found in an entire Hallmark store and you’ve an idea of what the song is. In my first circle of hell, this song would be playing on repeat for eternity. If I could physically fight a song, this would be the one. And I would kick the crap out of it.

So there you go. Honorable (or not so honorable) mentions to Karen Carpenter, WINGS, and Elton John. It was a valiant effort, guys, but you just weren’t terrible enough.

today’s post is brought to you by small time crooks and WalMart

I know it’s been a few days since I’ve posted, but, well, LIFE got in the way. Finals are over (yay!) and that means the Christmas season is here. I’m looking forward to hanging out with the dog, seeing friends that I haven’t seen in FAR too long, finishing my grandmother’s Christmas present (scrapbook!) with my sister, baking (gluten-free!) Christmas cookies, and (of course) watching every conceivable made-for-tv movie (there’s already 4 on my DVR. I’m so pumped).

So, in the spirit of the holidays, I’m going to share with all of you one of my favorite (and true!) stories that happened last year when I was in Columbus, visiting my sister before Christmas.

I’ve blogged pretty extensively about my younger sister, Nicole. She’s one of my favorite people in the world and I love hanging out with her, despite living 2+ hours away. So when we DO get to hang out, it’s always a treat.

So last year, to celebrate the end of finals (double yay!), I made the trek down to Columbus (side note: I lived in Columbus a few years ago and it really is a great town) to visit for the weekend. Since it was literally the day after I finished with law finals, I had done exactly ZERO Christmas shopping. Nicole and I figured we’d figure out what to get our parents and our brother (and other random people too) and maybe try a new restaurant. It was going to be a nice quiet, stress-free weekend.

That clearly didn’t happen.

I met her at Easton so we could go have lunch (Northstar Cafe—if you haven’t been, go! And try the Champagne Vinaigrette.). We stopped back at the Verizon store (so I could get my car to drop off at Nicole’s apartment).

That’s when the day started to get weird.

I noticed someone had smashed my passenger’s side window. Initially, I thought it was a hit and run. However, upon further inspection, I realized someone broke into my car. They tore through EVERYTHING.I assume they thought they’d find a laptop, iPad, iPod or something else like it. However, they were wrong. The only things in my car were ancient sweatpants from college, a pair of brown Uggs (sue me, I wear Uggs), a few cosmetic items (makeup, toothbrush, contact solution), a pillow, and a few law textbooks.

The bastards left everything, but my eyeglasses and toothbrush.

Here’s the note I left them on facebook (but I doubt they got it).

dear idiot who broke into my car, 
i hope you enjoy my used toothbrush, three-quarters gone foundation and blush and my eyeglasses. i really appreciate you leaving my textbooks, GRE prep books and the chik-fil-a coupon. i’m sorry there wasn’t anything really good in the car for you (but, tough, you got an extremely lovely pair of prada eyeglasses). hope santa brings you a warrant for your arrest. 
love, stacey

I was robbed by the worst criminals ever—considering the only things they stole were a pair of eyeglasses, an old toothbrush and some used makeup. I was still (rightly) pissed.

So, since I had to buy a new toothbrush, Nicole and I headed  to WalMart.

If there is one thing you should know about Nicole (and my dad) is that they HATE WalMart. Hate it the way that I hate “The View” and Joy Behar.

But we went anyway because Nicole had to return something (it was part of a Halloween costume that she never used). The two of us pull up to Wal-Mart, I’m pissy because I was robbed, Nicole is pissy because we’re at WalMart.

We head into the store and see the return line is ridiculous. And this isn’t one of those nice newer WalMarts either. This is an old-school, dirty, icky Wal-Mart. There’s a huge-ish line of people waiting and one person doing actual work behind the counter. The other few people are there just to hang out (or something). So now that’s making us TWICE as angry.

So we stand there waiting, me complaining about my glasses (I loved those glasses) and Nicole complaining about Wal-Mart. We see a woman get in line behind us, struggling with her “bag 0 crap” (which is what I called it. I think it was actually just a bunch of hangers in a few plastic bags). She had her daughter with her—an adult, but looked like she had some sort of handicap. The mother was struggling to hold the bag o crap and zip up her daughter’s coat.

Nicole, being the sweetheart she is, got over her hatred of WalMart and asked the woman if she could help her—maybe hold her bag so she could help her daughter.

Now, I SWEAR TO GOD that this next portion is true.

The daughter, who had been fighting her mother, had her head down. She snapped her head up to stare at my sister, threw her middle finger in Nicole’s face, and then (BEST PART), started to kick her in the shins.

Nicole froze, not knowing what to do (me? I was busy trying to figure out how to work the video camera on my iPhone to capture this special memory forever, all while laughing myself to an asthma attack). The mother, sort of feeling embarrassed, calmly told her daughter “Now, Heather, that’s not very nice,” and lead her away from Nicole.

Nicole looks at me and says (something to the effect of) “Did that just happen??” I was still laughing too hard to answer, so the other people in line assured her that, yes, in fact, she did just get flipped off and kicked in a WalMart.

The best part? We’re still in line! There was NO WAY we were leaving until we got that stupid shirt returned. The next ten minutes were spent split between silence (wondering what the hell just happened) and fits of giggles (mostly courtesy of me). She finally returned her shirt and the cashier said that was the craziest thing she had seen in awhile (I assume other ridiculous things happen at WalMart. people of walmart is a site for a reason). As we’re ready to go, I see that Heather’s mom is back (with her bag o crap).

She (Heather’s mom) is just standing there. The cashier says that she can take the next person. Heather’s mom doesn’t move. The cashier says, again, she can take her. Again, Heather’s mom just stands there. So the woman behind her shrugs and walks to the counter.

This gets Heather’s mom’s attention. She grabs her bag o crap, shoves the other woman out of the way, throws said bag o crap on the counter and screeches “EX-CUSE ME, BUT I WAS NEXT”. The other woman (a remarkably normal lady, looking as incredulous about what was going on as Nicole and I were) was taken aback and tried to apologize, but Heather’s mom didn’t want to hear it. She ignored the other lady and then proceeded to dump out the bag o crap…which was, in fact, a bunch of hangers. I burst out laughing (and, again, trying to figure out how to video tape this gem).

You can’t make this stuff up.

And, on our way out, Nicole says (incredibly loudly) “That’s it! This place is the worst! WE’RE GOING TO TARGET” (or something like that, I was still laughing my face off).

So there you have it. I was robbed, Nicole was assaulted, and WalMart was forced to take back an entire bag of hangers (or risk being attacked by Heather).

This year, Nicole is coming up HERE and we’re definitely not going to to WalMart. That’s a promise.

misadventures with Lisa!

Sometimes the only thing you need in life is pizza and quality time with your girlfriends.

Last night I got to spend some time with one of my favorite people on the planet (and one of my closest friends to boot), Lisa.

I love this girl. We met on election night in 2008 & clicked immediately. On a night that was pretty horrific (from my viewpoint, anyway), meeting her was the bright spot of the evening (well, that and drinking Shooters dry of any red wine. Oops.).

In the past 3 years she has become one of my fiercest allies, closest confidents, and favorite partners-in-crime. I met her at a time in my life when I needed someone to remind me that life could be fun. Our misadventures are legendary: hanging out with Jimmy Dimora—pre-prison—at Stone Mad, creating our own “fake St. Patrick’s Day” in May (because we were both wearing green and went into the back of the bar we were in and pulled out all the St. Paddy’s day decorations. That is a true story, my friends), countless political events/meetings/door-knocks, impromptu sleepovers, festive fourth of July “Drunky McNoPants”, and an unfortunate night when my car died & she and I had to push poor Trudy into a random parking lot.

As cheesy as it sounds, I do believe things happen for a reason. And God was lookin’ out for me back in ’08 when the two of us met randomly at an election night party. And I’m so thankful every day that we did. I don’t tell her NEARLY enough, but having her friendship is truly a blessing. It’s hard to make REALLY good friends post-college, but having Lisa made me realize you actually can.

Here’s one of my favorite pictures of the two of us:

I’m thumbs-upping and she’s trying REALLY hard not to laugh at me. I think this was at the Reddstone (obviously during the summer).

Anyway, we ended up going to Angelo’s for pizza. If you live in Cleveland and have never been to Angelo’s, you are missing out. We ended up ordering salad and the Acapulco BBQ Chicken Pizza

Again, sorry for the crappy iPhone camera, but I forgot my actual camera. But look how yummy. Cheesy, bbq-y, bacon-y goodness (and the salad was pretty good too).

And while we were there, Santa Claus made an appearance. Of course, Lisa hopped on his lap.

It was strange that a random Lakewood pizza joint had Santa coming in, but we went with it. Maybe I should have asked him for more blog-readers for Christmas…(oh, and a job too).

After dinner, we met up with her boyfriend, Dave, and his friend Mike at a bar around the corner from Angelo’s.

There are lots of things that I love about Lakewood—it’s right on the lake, there are tons of great restaurants and bars, lots of my friends live there, etc. But my FAVORITE is the abundance of neighborhood corner bars—you know, the completely un-fancy, dive-y, hole-in-the-wall bars. I like getting glammed up and going to a nice restaurant or bar as much as the next girl…but there’s also something really awesome about local “watering holes” that are without all the frills: just cheap drinks, people you know, and a jukebox that can be controlled by your BFF’s cell phone (touchtunes, I love you!).

I stuck with water, but everyone else was drinking Christmas Ale (since they had it on tap). We made friends with the girls sitting next to us at the bar and proceeded to belt out every conceivable 80’s song that we knew the words to (also, sidenote: “I Want You Back” by the Jackson 5 has some mumbly words. Just sayin’). So.Much.Fun.

Also, even funnier? The handsoap in the bathroom

Yes, that is the hand soap. In a mustard container, clearly marked “hand soap”.

I’m still laughing.