Oh Fuck, What Is That? of the day: Donkey Milk

Today  I was running through CVS to pick-up a prescription when the powers of the universe drew my gaze in the direction of something that made me stop.

Donkey's Milk

Donkey’s Milk

…Donkey’s milk?

I laughed. Donkey’s milk? Growing up in the Midwest we barely had more than Skim and Whole Milk, so where the fuck did Donkey’s milk come from? Surprised, amazed, and humored by this new product I snapped a shot and sent it to my boyfriend. Getting home I sent the picture onto my mom knowing she might also get a laugh from it. Then I got down to business and decided I needed to know more about Donkey’s Milk.

Google: Donkey’s Milk.

I see Amazon pop-up. Okay, apparently there’s some demand for this product. What else is there…okay second hit, Wikipedia “Donkey’s Milk.” Before I even click on the page I feast my eyes on the search results description:

  1. Donkey milk – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia


    Donkey milk (or Ass milk) is the milk given by the domesticated ass or donkey. ….Ass milk is still used today in the manufacture of soaps and moisturizers.

“Or Ass milk”…oh yeah, duh, that’s the casual, colloquial version I should’ve been calling it. I immediately burst into giggles.


The wikipedia page dives into all the wonders of ass milk. And it truly is interesting. Apparently it’s comparable to human breast milk, but even more exciting, in my opinion, are all the famous historical figures who heralded the ass milk trend. Cleopatra herself used to “bathe in ass milk.”


Nero’s wife required “whole troops of she-asses to attend her on her journeys.”


Napoleon Bonaparte’s sister, didn’t miss out on that new hotness either. Hell no, she was all about a good old splash of ass milk to improve her skin’s health. Not to mention Hippocrates sung it’s praises for ailments as well. 

So there you go folks. Get your ass milk. It’s probably at your local CVS or Rite Aid or Duane Reade or whatever ass milk vendor you have nearby–apparently it works wonders. Just ask Cleopatra.

Hippocrates, also pointed out, “In cases where persons have swallowed quicksilver, bacon is the proper remedy to be employed.” BACON?!


Oh Fuck, What Is That? of the day: Fruit

Although my midwestern background hasn’t exactly prepared me to be a connoisseur of fruit (read: the first time I had a real cherry I was 25 years old), I’m pretty fucking sure it’s not supposed to look like what I’ve been seeing at the grocery store lately. Introducing oranges with knobs and ‘carropears.’ Just imagine someone pulling out that carropear from their lunchbox at work.



Oh, Fuck What is That? of the Day: The Art Museum

I’ve recently discovered a new love for art museums. Museums in my community have done such amazing exhibits that I’d like to think I’ve begun to grasp how provoking, interesting, and culturally vital art can be in all its forms. That is…until I walk by a portrait like this one.

Henri Rousseu (1908) - Wikipaintings.org

When I see this my first thought is: What in the fuck is happening in this portrait?

My second thought is: Do not giggle. Do not giggle. Do not giggle.

Even when I *try* to understand that crazy shit I’m totally lost. Hmm….Is the guy on the far left punching the shit out of Blue Mustachioed Stripes? What is the guy on the right frolicking joyfully about? And what’s up with the guy in the back just rolling up his sleeves, watching the fiasco. Cute riding boots.

Now, I’m sure someone who knows a thing about art can enlighten me in how this piece does some fancy shit like “elucidate the deeply grained brohood among men wearing matching sporty outfits playing sporty sports in modern society” or “demonstrate the irrevocable individuality, yet cohesion among life forms including trees.” Unfortunately, whatever the fuck it is, it is lost on me completely. And instead of being the art snob or quiet, budding, appreciater of art I turn into that ignorant ass giggling at the Rousseau portrait in the art museum.

Oh Fuck, What is That? Of the Day: Canned Goods?


Boyfriend and I were at the grocery store one night. I was grumpy and ready to go home and he was jolly and wanting to look at e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. So, when he told me I should come look at something – I grumpily walked over and then proceeded to die laughing.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could buy, let alone, eat something called Spotted Dick. I guess I”m a 12 year old at heart. Of course, the great storyteller of the interwebs, Wikipedia, provides enlightenment: 

Spotted dick is a British steamed suet pudding containing dried fruit (usuallycurrants) commonly served with custardSpotted refers to the dried fruit (which resemble spots) and dick may be a contraction or corruption of the word pudding(from the last syllable) or possibly a corruption of the word dough[1] or dog, as “spotted dog” is another name for the same dish with the use of plums rather than currants. Another explanation offered for the word “dick” is that it comes from the German word for “thick” or dick.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the earliest documented reference is a recipe for “Plum Bolster, or Spotted Dick”, in Alexis Soyer‘s The modern Housewife or ménagère (1849).[2][3]

Hospital managers at Gloucestershire NHS Trust (in 2001)[4] and the catering staff at Flintshire County Council (in 2009)[5] renamed the pudding Spotted Richard on menus because of the use of the word dick in the original name, a common dysphemism for male genitalia in the English language. Gloucestershire NHS Trust restored the original name in 2002. Flintshire County Council reversed their renaming after a few weeks.[6]