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The amazing story so far!

Once upon a (time) there was a forum, where lunatics soaped every minute even forgetting to cook dinner sometimes or clean house. Thankfully they had a patient family and soap addict friends. But unexpectedly, something needed more fragrance. So they ordered and spent rent to get some silicone molds and cheap frozen dinners so the family was clean but unhappy with their frozen dinners. Then out of nowhere they began thinking, "spare time to make another batch of bacon scented eggs... (er) no- soap!" That's when it dawned on me "I need lye", KOH or NaOH? So back on-line I forgot colorants... primer should do! While I'm thinking about my paycheck disappearing faster than a buck-toothed, horned sad little soap that never cured. My soap looks somewhat better than my last batch.

My skeletally thin addition of scent got poor reviews. So I made lots of excuses while planning out the next masterpiece. Starting with a pitiful amount of leftover Mississippi lard, rendered chipmunk tallow, powdery residual lye, and absolutely no... So rethinking, I tossed in some old campfire ashes and dog hair affirming my insanity. I also added reconstituted tofu nuggets that almost smelled like death itself. But not dismayed I proceeded to collect hamster droppings thinking that "if I roasted them", until the smell chased me out. But I returned braver than before determined to roast chestnuts on the open fire. Our bottom line is innovative thinking has been replaced with convoluted reasoning pulled apart cinnamon rolls can't replace lard, neither can tofu.

However, used tallow to oil my worn out SB works every time. To shave the cat and collect more all natural ingredients like possum fat and chicken lips. All for fun to test in soap and produce something never seen – possum lip soap. But then it started stinking. And caught on fire. Why! Oh Why?!!! Because possum lips sink ships... silly. Undaunted and blissfully ignorant, were the rats that went down into the bowels of bland ballads. Getting back to the normally sponsored program we're brainwashing dancing with rats into something that will always turn into good soap. I snortlechorted at newbies chipmunk tallow and ate some. With sea salt and spoiled wasabi, I'm so sick! Can't stop eating because there's still habanero beef chili leftover from Saturday's church chili cook-off. Nothing like it except the explosive gut syndrome that keeps me from getting any rest.

Awake all night making cold process and running to grab dancing shoes and purple tights because ya'll know how much I need some pepsi for added bubbles and unbelievable boost of caffeine in my life. Love and happiness go hand-in-hand like soap and dirty, mangy, filthy hands. But pepsi definitely tastes like tears from angels, shed over spilled SpaceDust (aka PopRocks) added for exfoliation popping in bathtubs for (a) hot-tub effect. Pepsi bubble baths make me tingle but left a rash and a sticky 'feel' that just won't make up for all the soap I've been meaning to make, but this run-on sentence hurts my brain period.

Suddenly a giant moth came out and fluttered by Jimbo, into my windows, chewing on my new socks (which are crusty). But I washed them with soap that had DOS and coagulated milk, left a weird smell like vine ripened durian fruit- blech! Durian pulp soap is best used outside the house to clean the tire white walls. It's also good to rub on your left ankle but not (the) right, because lefties attract crazies like honey fruitcake. Which I happen to love because I am really weird. However, I embraced weirdness like fluffy clouds that I imagine love Christmas elves. Who doesn't love elves? They are naughty with soap playing with bubbles & cleaning their pointy hats.

The rats chewed the soap and sudsy poop oozed all over my new EO's and onto the spilled lye solution, which created a portal under the floor, through which stained my wood. But I got a broken spatula to scrape up the now congealing mystery solution laying all over my dried chipmunk pelts which I placed over my molds for textured tops. And silky feeling It's just amazing how it tends to just slide down the drain leaving no mark but a smell not unlike a fart from bulldog. The fur swirl sends shivers up and down my hidden backwoods bunker, where I secretly roll in soap while singing the "Let it go" (song from Frozen). The bunker smells like napalm mixed with essential oils and rancid lard with a hint of musty armpits which haven't been washed in decades. Nevertheless, I then I try to use exotic oils because those won't matched pureed sardines, which are what I superfat with but cause DOS. The real secret which is about keeping hair out of the drain and in the bathroom trash can. Is to smear it on walls producing an electric shock that tastes ever so similar to moldy feet.

Tin foil helmets come in handy but only work when using incantations and incandescent bulbs placed strategically inside out. Be cautious or else they'll likely be found somewhere on top between the sheet and a pepsi. Pepsi addiction is like a masochistic. Not to me, obsessive drunken bender severe enough to want real alcohol instead of rubbing (alcohol, that is) for a volcano inside my head. ZOMBIES!! in my head... Looking and doing, they are fighting. Dreams and visions that seem insanely reminiscent of my. Vivid but I can tell now what I thought was just wrong. Like a bad hangnail while soaping catches on everything. And hurts like lye on my big swollen eyeball. So in hindsight, even though blind, I still soap, squinting behind my hand made shield – made of cookie sheets but not aluminum, could be silicone... Round or square, I can't tell because the fumes were making me loopy in the head, more than usual – even that time I spilled EO on my pillow that I keep for emergency naps in the car while I'm driving with my knees until i swerved avoiding blind chipmunks and three little freaking cute frogs. Bam! Crashed into an indestructible moose. But my destructible skate board Fred, slid right under my broken butt and saved me from a fate worse than forgetting your olive oil or fragrance oil!

So I dropped to my knees in bitter anguish, yelling to the top of my husband's bald head. But his hair started growing back, proving that lard puts hair on just about anything – including my aunt's delicious pecan pie with cool whip drizzled with gooey caramel and a Indian war bonnet that aunty inherited from Elmer Fud while hunting wabbits vewy vewy quietly through the woods to grandmothers house we go.

The silent night elves picked through the toys that were strewn amongst the empty EO bottles and soap wrappers dropped on the floor near the cat-food and the dog sleeping soundly. However they accidentally poked him in the nose and he awoke growling, until he smelled the bacon essential oil is finally rancid! That's so sad!
 

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