Let me begin this post by saying that I have no illusions about the cleanliness of the world outside my apartment (which is also dirty sometimes). I know that the food at the grocery store and the dishes at (some) restaurants and the bathrooms at (most) rest stops are almost certainly covered in something I wouldn’t want to touch with gloves on, much less ingest. But with that said, there’s a level of ignorance we all assume when we shop for vegetables or ride the subway or make a pit stop at a gas station, just to get through it. You try not to think about who was there before you or what he/she/they did, and you go about your business.

After posting Finger Food (which I may have slightly misunderstood, but is kinda gross either way), Walmart I, Walmart II, and this, I started to doubt my ability to look at grocery carts the same way. After Walmart III, I never wanted to set foot inside a Walmart again OR use any of their facilities. And after Old Man Rafferty’s and Ruby Tuesday, I nearly threw up. So I understand that no one should expect cleanliness outside of their own home, believe me. This post’s submissions simply serve as a reminder for what we already know: Babies are barf machines, and a single picture is capable of scaring me into never eating parmesan cheese at a restaurant ever again.

Oh babies. They’re prone to barfing, sometimes whilst shopping for tomatoes. Thankfully some babies have moms like Tracy who really go the distance when their kid barfs on a stack of produce by strategically removing the tainted food and setting it aside. You know, for inspection, by the tomato inspectors, who come around like clockwork once each hour to check for vegetables that might be covered in vomit. She’s one smart cookie. And thoughtful, too! The way she posted about it on Facebook so that all her friends would know to be wary of grocery produce — that’s almost as good as telling a store supervisor!

Kids will be kids, right? The important thing is that people should know just what they’re getting into. You know how play areas at fast food restaurants and ball pits at places like Chuck E. Cheese are to be avoided due to germs and bodily fluids? Well, just apply that rule to pretty much everything else, and you’re all set!

Mmmmm, parmesan cheese. Raise your hand if you haven’t licked the top of the shaker at a restaurant before! Nothing beats hitting up a CiCi’s Pizza, grabbing two or fourteen slices of pizza, covering them with a firm shake of parmesan cheese and then licking the lid before diving in. YUM. Deffinately my preferred method of consumption. I totally see why Britt is in favor of her child experiencing this delicious treat. Maybe when he’s done he can add a little color to the restaurant wall!

Related: How (Not) To Act In a Restaurant

(submitted by Anonymous)

I’m having a hard time processing this submission for several reasons. For one thing, I’m grateful that at no time in my life has my mother knowingly referred to my odor as “gross rot.” That automatically makes me think of rotting teeth, rotting jack o’ lanterns, rotting road kill — pretty much anything that decays slowly and smells like the crud under your fingernails crossed with this. But that description aside, is this worth posting about on Facebook? It’s obviously overshare in the sense that it’s fucking disgusting, but I also sort of understand Vita’s compulsion to post the story because it’s so anomalous and bizarre.

Still, this isn’t like posting about a bird shitting on your head while you were sitting on a park bench. Band Aids are disgusting enough when they’re NOT crammed in the crevice of a child’s nose for five to six months, so I can’t imagine what this little girl’s face must have smelled like. It also sounds like it would be uncomfortable, but hey, what do I know? I’ve never had a rotting Band Aid inside my face for over a hundred days. Maybe the discomfort starts to become unnoticeable, or it’s overshadowed by the putrid smell. Regardless, I’m curious what you guys think about this woman’s decision to air her child’s dirty laundry nostrils on Facebook. Would you care if your friend shared this story, or would you just be like, “Holy shit. I’m stunned. I guess I’m just grateful that I haven’t ever lived with a human dumpster. Thank you?” 

(submitted by Anonymous)

Maybe I wouldn’t be as disgusted by Jamey’s status update if Stephen hadn’t chimed in with his sweeeet and warrrrrrrm comment, but now I feel grossed out. Can’t parents just stop talking about what their baby’s breath and poop and farts and skin smell like? I’m getting sensory overload over here.

I mean I get it — your baby was born and smelled like a newborn baby. Then your baby pooped and it smelled like microwavable popcorn and made you hungry. Then the baby farted and it smelled like your own shit because you breast-feed and it’s just so WACKY that your bodily emissions smell similar, and then your baby breathed on you and it was like a symphony of sweetness that you’d like to bottle and spray on your pillow before bed. All of that blew your nostrils mind, and I get that, but why does everyone else need to know? And what kind of person says stuff like, “I’ve known some kids with crazy breath.”? That’s like saying, “I’ve known some grandmas with irregular bowel syndrome,” or, “I’ve known some convicts with crazy tattoos.” It’s all relative. Just keep it to yourself, especially if the observation causes you to make comparisons to the child’s father. Does anybody remember this post? Yeah. Me too.

(submitted by Anonymous)