Evironmental Newz

As some of you may have noticed, it's been a hot second since my last blog post. That would be because my office has been working CRAZY hours the past month to complete a massive three-part project for Hurricane Sandy relief. Not kidding, two weeks ago i worked TWELVE! hours on SATURDAY and NINETEEN!!!!!! hours SUNDAY! I started work at 8:30 am and left at 3:30 am the next day. I invented my own emoticon to express how that weekend made me feel. See if you can guess the emotion I'm trying to convey:

T---   ~  ~  ~    X-(

If it isn't inherently obvious to you (although I have no idea why that would be) you are staring at a gun on the left, a bullet zooming through the air in the middle, and a dead person lying in a pool of blood on the right. I'll admit, maybe not the best emoticon ever, but whatever, I'm sure that it'll catch on. Anyway, I know those kind of hours are considered a normal work week for all my investment banker friends, but seriously, how can anyone do this to themselves on the reg? I barely made it through myself, I will admit to several mental breakdowns throughout that weekend. Fortunately my hours have returned to normal, although not so for some of my colleagues. People are definitely starting to crack (I can hear my supervisor singing manically as I type).

Unfortunately many are still experiencing Sandy's wrath

Anyway, I saw this article on the New York Times website the other day. It's a heartbreaking piece about those whose lives were forever changed by the storm, and subtly references the project in which my office has been tirelessly contributing. We've been putting together detailed and time consuming Environmental Site Assessment reports (ESAs) for home owners interested in government subsidized programs to buy or remediate their damaged properties. The woman in this article chose the buy-out option. Our reports help the gov'ment understand potential environmental concerns associated with each property. #helping Check it out, it's worth a read!

(Oh god, now my supervisor is speaking in depth about his "wacky jacket". He seriously needs to get some sleep!)

Photo credits: Grease 

The Number One Rule

The number one rule of my job: don't die. 

That rule just got a whole lot harder for me to follow after completing a scaffolding safety class last Wednesday evening. I'm using the word "safety" lightly here because the course was a disaster. The instructor was just terrible. He rushed through the material and erratically bounced around the topics so that you couldn't follow a thing he said. He also wasn't the brightest bulb - he couldn't multiply 1.5 x 3 (he thought it was 7) and clearly did not know how to use Google. I'm not sure I want to entrust my safety education in the hands of someone like that...

Anyway, I put my safety certification to use the very next day. I was asked to perform some asbestos sampling on the exterior facade of a building. By exterior facade, I mean that we took the elevator to the twelfth floor where the building tapered off for the top four floors. A small perimeter of rooftop space surrounded the smalled-down portion of the building in which scaffolding had been erected all the way to the roof. Walking up four flights of scaffolding is certainly a different experience than learning about it. I'm not really afraid of heights, but I am afraid of tripping and tumbling down four flights of steep, metal stairs. Oy vey. Scary stuff! Nevertheless, I held my head up high and acted like I did this on the reg. *snap snap snap!* #LeanIn #BreakingThatGlassCeiling #GurlPower

Yup, I stood on the top of this structure

Here is a view of the side of the building from the top of the scaffolding

Andddd here's another view out towards the street. Number two rule: don't look down!

Hey mom, so what do you think of my new certification??

It's Too Hot for this BS

As I type, the weather in NYC is 94 degrees Fahrenheit (that's 34 Celsius for all the non-American readers out there) with a humidity level around 50%. Blerghhhhhh. So not fun. Especially when all your travel is done via public transportation and your own two hooves. 

Fun fact! Did you know you could buy nail polish, excuse me, hoof polish for horses?!? Now you do :)

To add to the frustrations inherent with this terrible weather, today I had the pleasure of inspecting a hoarder's apartment. My favorite! The air conditioning was not in use at the time of inspection. The resident expressed concern regarding mold growth inside her a/c unit. In response to my question as to when she stopped using the air conditioner, she responded, "Oh I haven't used the HVAC system [Heating, Ventilation, Air Conditioning] in the ten years I've lived here". 

Hold up! What?!?!????? It's true. Apparently she has not turned on her a/c unit once over the past ten summers, nor has she turned on the heat during NYC's chilly winters. 

Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen! Step right up! Let me please introduce the world's biggest, strangest, and craziest masochist! 

Allegedly she doesn't turn it on for fear of mold growth?...despite there never actually being a  known leak? IDK, no explanation for this one. Below is a sampling of today's inspection:

This is the "after" picture of the apartment after the resident had been forced to clean. I'm not kidding. Glad I wasn't there for the "before" photo.

The building's maintenance people had to flip her couch on its side in order to do some repair work back in 2009. They neglected to move the couch back afterwards, and I guess so did the resident! Maybe she liked that it opened up some floor space...

This is only a small sampling of her can/bottle collection

I thought these were wadded up tissues or cotton balls. I tried not to look too hard. But no. The building manager whispered to me afterward, "did you see all of those used panty liners??". WHAT DA FUCK?!???? ***shudderrrrr***

I don't think I'll feel clean until I bathe both myself and today's outfit in acid. 

Can somebody please tell me why it always seems to be that the people with the most, shall we say fringe lifestyles are the people most vehemently concerned about mold?

Photo credits: horsegroomingsupplies.com

A Moldy Mystery Concluded... For Now

This post is the exciting conclusion to a previous entry. If you have not read the prequel, I highly suggest that you read it NOW.

In all seriousness, don't be that jerk who cheats and skips to the end of the mystery. It's no fun hanging around you when you're acting all smug and smart, "It's soooo obvious what's going to happen, you guys! You *still* haven't figured it out??". Yeah dude, because I'm going along for the ride and didn't check out the end!

Okay, at this point I'm assuming that nobody wants to be "that guy" and we're all caught up with the back story. Conclusion time!

So, it turns out the whole hideous situation actually WAS mold! Below are the results for the dirt-like substance pictured in my previous post: 

So I guess that's what a smuts/myxomycetes infestation looks like. Try pronouncing that name three times fast!

Even though the thing was far from pretty, fortunately for the family (but not fortunate for the story teller), the mold isn't a particularly dangerous or harmful or even a rare variety. It's a mild allergen, but it won't like, kill you or anything. Bo-ring. :-/ One fun fact is that myxomycetes aren't technically a fungus but are considered a "slime mold" due to their life cycle patterns (don't ask me to explain the difference, let's consult the NYC Mycological Society!). FASCINATING! #NowYouKnow #KnowledgeIsPower #YoureWelcome

The End.

A Moldy Mystery

Oh. My. Effing. Gee. What a week. The past few days I have experienced one of the most bizarre inspections of my career as a mold inspector. Let's break it down day by day:

Tuesday

I receive a phone call from a hysterical pregnant woman living in the super chic neighborhood of TriBeCa. Privately I think to myself, here we go again, another psycho rich person with way too much money and time on their hands. It 's difficult understanding her description of the situation, I can't decide over the phone whether she actually has a legitimate mold problem from her strange description. She asks me several times if I can come by that day (I can come, but I'm really not in the mood. And more importantly I'd miss ice cream celebrating somebody's birthday at the office), so I say no hoping she would be calmer the next day. We finish the conversation with her asking, "Is it safe for my family to stay in the house? Or should I bring the kids to my sister's apartment?!?!?". My response, "Ummmmm, do you have another bathroom?... Okay, great. Just use that one... I don't think it's quite necessary for an emergency evacuation at the moment...". Yeah, I'm not looking forward to tomorrow's inspection .

Wednesday

I arrive at the apartment. Of course it's breathtakingly gorgeous and spacious. The resident (also gorgeous) leads me to the bathroom. For the first time ever, I truly empathize with a mold  freak out. The *thing* is just so weird, and for lack of a better word, icky. 

A growth had somehow come through the grout on her bathroom wall and had developed on the slate tile both inside and outside of the shower area. This was a nice apartment and was well maintained. Not your typical situation to find visible mold growth with no known water problem. 

I see the *thing* and reason why she had called my company for a mold inspection. At first glance I quickly come to the conclusion there is no way it can be mold. First of all, it doesn't look like mold. Mold grows and develops in a hundred different ways, colors, shapes, etc. but it usually looks something along of the lines of this: 

Small, ugly, dark, spotty dots. Yay mold!

In addition to appearing dissimilar from mold growth I typically observe, the resident said the *thing* developed FAST. According to her, nothing was visible in the bathroom on Monday, and she had watched the *thing* clearly develop and grow drastically bigger during the day on Tuesday. I have never experienced a situation in which mold grows this quickly. First of all, I RARELY ever even see visible mold growth. And when I do, it's usually because a leak situation was never properly remediated or a bathroom was left neglected. This bizarre material exploded in a matter of hours. Blech! 

Considering the speed of growth as well as the appearance, I think to myself that it has to be a chemical reaction between wet building materials. On rare occasions I've seen plaster bubble as a result of water damage. It looks gross and scary, but is not mold. 

NOT MOLD

In this case, the growth was bright yellow. Plaster is white. And it looked kind of rusty too. There were redish-brown drip stains coming from the growth. Grossly, the resident mentioned that the day prior during the development period, the growth was soaking wet. "You could scoop it up with a spoon". At my investigation, the wall is dry as is the growth.

Day Zero (resident's photo): Bright yellow, wet, icky, growing faster than the US economy

Approximately 24 hours later: lighter yellow, dried out, still icky 

Now here's the real twist in this mystery! As I mentioned, I thought there is no way that this thing could be biological. It just grew wayyy too fast and didn't look right. BUT! As I get all up in it to collect a sample for the lab, I expect the chunk will be light and fairly easy to collect. I think it will come off in the wall in one large foamy section. Nope. Wrong. I learn that the growth is very difficult to remove from the wall. It is extremely dense and is difficult to remove. It comes off only in small chunks. I'm a bit disturbed to realize that the interior is not yellow like the outside. It's brown on the inside. What's more, the sample disintegrates quickly into a grainy substance. It looks like I threw a handful of dirt into a bag. 

HOW DID THAT YELLOW FOAMY THING TURN INTO THIS?!?!?!?! I AM SO CONFUSED!!!

At this point, I kinda freak out a little bit myself. I change my mind and think that it MUST be biological. Why else would it be brown on the inside? And disintegrate like that if it wasn't?? Following the sample collection, I am a bit nauseated myself thinking about whatever I just touched and hoping it wasn't some toxic naturally occurring infestation of anthrax or something. 

The woman's superintendent does not stop exclaiming that he can''t believe I touched it. I was wearing gloves you know! He goes on and on about his days in the army and all of the biological and chemical weapons he had learned about. Not helpful. I am starting to wonder whether I should have put my respirator on the second I stepped foot in the bathroom...

Returning to the office I immediately call our laboratory for sample analysis suggestions. They have no idea what I'm describing over the phone. They say they'll take a look at the material and then decide how to test. Nobody in my office has ever heard of or seen such a thing. So, so effing gross. 

Thursday

The lab calls me. They had performed a simple test to determine whether the sample is biological in nature, so that it can be analyzed by the correct department. It turns out the sample IS biological. Ick. So it is a living organism... Great.

Friday

I eagerly await results this afternoon. I have never been so excited to receive lab results before. Stay tuned...

Photo credits: Dilbert

Ring Around the Rosie

Spoiler alert: Harold's got a secret stash of chocolate

Paging all children of the nineties! Anybody remember that episode of Hey Arnold where they get stuck in the subway and the whole train goes ape shit crazy? Ever since viewing that episode, there's always been a subconscious fear in the back of my mind of getting trapped in the subway. Of course hold-ups are a constant annoyance of riding the NYC MTA, but recently I had one of my scariest train experiences. Traveling underground (and under water!) between Manhattan and Brooklyn on the D train, the train lurched HARD. Every standing person, including myself, legitimately fell down as if we were in some accidental game of Ring Around the Rosie. Ashes, ashes. And we all fall down! Most people audibly gasped, a few screamed, and more than one person made the sign of the Cross. I was quite shocked and proud of myself - as somebody who manages to cause more food/drink mishaps than a drunk three year old, I was able to hold onto and not spill my full iced coffee! Thank god this scary moment did not escalate further into something worthy of a Lifetime movie! We survived with no further incident. The end. Good story, I know. 

Pocket full of posies...

Photo credits: americaslibrary.gov, Hey Arnold

Appurtenances

Appurtenance |əˈpərtn-əns|
noun (usu. appurtenances)
An accessory or other item associated with a particular activity or style of living: all the appurtenances of luxurious travel.
ORIGIN Middle English: from Old French apertenance, based on late Latin appertinere ‘belong to’ (see appertain).

A teal crushed velvet scrunchie is an excellent appurtenance to jazz up any outfit

Why did I just post the definition of "appurtenance" (other than to, you know, contribute to expanding society's vocabulary via a beloved reminiscence of the Word of the Day from third grade English class. Now, go use it in a sentence!)? Anyway, I was recently assigned to do a mold inspection of a building in downtown Manhattan in the midst of a large legal battle. My company had been given several documents outlining various problems with the property. Along with a lot of other bizarre terms and out of place references, the building owner had used the word "appurtenances" instead of "accessories" in one of the documents to describe a component of the building. I love a good two-dollar word as much as the next person, but something in the documents was throwing me off. People frequently ask me if I've ever seen any "really scary mold" situations. My response is always that the mold is never the scary part, it's the people. The use of the word "appurtenance" should have told me that this whole situation was only going to go downhill from there. 

The job was at an absolutely disgusting building, but came with an even more disgusting property manager. I can barely even go into the details because they're just too stupid, so I'll stick to the highlights reel. That day it was pouring, the weather and the streets were a mess. I arrived to the site twenty minutes late (which in my book doesn't even count as late) but from the way the guy reacted, you'd think I had showed up four hours late, drunk, and missing half my equipment. 

If only.

He showed me around the building for a half hour or so and repeatedly said things like, "I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but...", "I've been in this business a long time, so I know what I'm talking about", and "I've never seen a girl at a job site before". Okay Mr. Genius of the Universe, if you're so smart and perfect and prompt, oh, and a man, why don't you do the mold test yourself? You seem to clearly know what you're talking about. Obviously as a girl, it's much too complicated for me. *Eye. Roll.*

The building manager had set up an appointment with other people at the same time as my investigation. So of course as soon as they arrived, I was completely ignored so the real men could finally get down to business. Thank the lord! I could finally do my job in peace!

I normally don't wear a respirator on the job, most places I go are in very good shape. Unfortunately this building was so disgusting that I seriously considered burning my outfit afterward.

Technically the building had been a "family friendly" pizzeria. At least according to a sign that had been left behind

But apparently, the third floor had also been home to a secret brothel

If only the building manager had kept all his "tips" to himself!

Photo credits: Moulin Rouge, Futurama, riverfronttimes.com, The Simpsons

Hey D, Just Another Day on the Job

I have a friend and former coworker who shall be known as D. D is a tattooed and burly Russian from outer Brooklyn. At first glance he can seem a tad scary. And second glance too. Third glance is when his big fluffy heart is finally revealed. D has a handful of years on me, and likes to act as my pseudo big brother - I'm told constantly that I'm not "professional" or that something isn't "safe" or "don't do that". He can be kind of a Debbie Downer. But boy certainly has a knack for witty banter. I love all of our heated discussions which somehow end up on the topic of feminism without fail. I particularly enjoy my ability to exasperate him, although to be honest, he probably exasperates me more. 

I always imagined D as a Paul Bunyan type - like Pauly B, D frequently sports a plaid shirt, and isn't lacking in the body hair department either. I'm sure he also wouldn't embarrass himself too badly in a duel against Dracula. 

D loves to give advice. As one of my many therapists, his trademark counsel is as follows:

"MG, I want you to stare at the mirror and give yourself a good, hard look in the eyes. Now repeat this mantra until it finally works, 'shut the fuck up'."

So thaaat's all I need to do. Thanks, Doctor D.

Are we ready for the ink blot tests yet?

As a Russian Jew from Brooklyn, D grew up surrounded by a lot of girls who could arguably be called JAPs. He has a hard time understanding the difference between a JAP, aka a Jewish American Princess, and a young, awesome, smart, hilarious female Jew with a great sense of style and some standards. I personally do not use the term "JAP", I prefer the more general phrase Basic Bitch. No, I do not call my father "daddy". No, I do not require at a minimum of two hours to get ready in the morning. No, my parents do not support me. No, I do not go gallivanting around the local mall decked out in Ugg boots, a Louis Vuitton handbag, a revealing Abercrombie & Fitch top, and a matching Tiffany's necklace, bracelet, earrings combo set. 

Imagine this scenario, just brown hair

There, that's better - it's Gretchen Wiener!

To put the whole JAP thing to rest once and for all, I will demonstrate a situation that I recently found myself in -  a situation where no Basic Bitch would EVER step foot. Last week a management company informed me before an inspection that I would be investigating a hoarder situation. I hate hoarders, they're gross and creepy, but it's usually not too big of a deal. Been there, done that, nothing I haven't seen before. Upon arrival at the site, a building maintenance worker says to me, "You know the deal with this apartment, right?". I said I was aware that it was a hoarding situation and he responded, "It's a bit more than that. You'll see". Coooooooooolllll.

Apparently the story is this: an old man had been living in the studio apartment for the past fifty years. In addition to the hoarding problem, he never cleaned the place. Not once. The building management had to forcibly remove the resident so that maintenance workers could remove the piles and piles of clothing and other items that had covered every free inch of space.

Horrifyingly, but not unexpectantly, the workers discovered an insect infestation in the bed. An exterminator was called in, and the exterminator provided a list of every type of insect he had found living in the apartment. The list could fill the pages of a novel. Underneath the bed had at one point been a throw rug. The throw rug today? It was 100 percent eaten and decomposed by insects. No joke. The carpet is now pure dust.This was probably the most disgusting apartment I've ever been in. And that truly is saying something. In your face, D?

The emptied studio apartment

How does a random part of your wall get THIS dirty??

I am not fucking kidding, this massive pile of a sawdust looking material was ONCE A CARPET. This is what a 50 year long insect infestation looks like.

Classy fabric wallpaper looking not so classy now.

The kitchen. Let's hope this wouldn't count as a "C" on NYC's controversial restaurant grading system.

The fridge. No words.

And the Grand Finale

Photo credits: http://wingedboar.net, Blitzcadet, Daria, Barbie, Mean Girls

Hey You Look Familiar... Part Deux

This is a continuation of a previous post, if you have not read the original Hey You Look Familiar, now is a perfect time!

Okay, done? Great!

As previously mentioned, I find it more than a bit disconcerting as to how often I'm told that I remind random strangers of someone they know. This goes for both regular people and celebrities. Just wondering, does this happen frequently to anyone else? I mean I know I'm a total babe, but I wouldn't say that I've achieved a hawtness level equivalent to a combination of eleven (and counting) gorgeous celebrities...yet. :P Kidding, geesh! I'm not that conceited. I generally consider my looks as equivalent to not requiring a paper bag as a "face accessory". And I've never come across someone in which I think to myself, "Damn, I just found my sister from another mister!", especially when it comes to celebrities. But if we've learned anything from Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, it's that you should always trust public opinion. So here's a thought - what's the money like for celebrity impersonators? High end faux trust fund baby escorts? Paper bag face accessory models?


Anywho, here's part deux of my celebrity doppelganger list:
My BAMF Doppelganger:  

Hilary Swank - I kickbox and zumba, pretty much same thing as Million Dollar Baby, no?

My "Can you repeat the name?", "I'm sorry, what was that?", and "Okay, one more time" Doppelganger: 

Ally Sheedy aka the weird chick in The Breakfast Club

My We-have-the-Same-Haircut Doppelganger:

Alexa Chung - yeah girl, I feel you, my hair's always a hot mess too

 My Ginger Doppelganger:

Amy Adams

And last but not least, my YOU ARE TOTALLY PERSONALITY TWINS AND YOU LOOK LIKE HER TOO Doppelganger:

Caroline, aka Beth Behrs, from Two Broke Girls

I'd say that at least six people have told me that I behave *exactly* like Caroline from Two Broke Girls, minus the whole I-used-to-be-a-trust-fund-baby thing (I wish!). Since hearing these comments, it was my duty to myself as well as my plethora of doppelgangers to give the show a whirl. I watched a handful of episodes from season one, and while I do think the show has its moment, it unfortunately seems a bit dated to me - Two Broke Girls is like a mix of old school slapstick comedy and a severely nineties sitcom (not to mention it's actually called 2 Broke Girls, not Two Broke Girls, but I refuse to use a number as a title). The show is clever, but also relies on a lot of tired clichés and stereotypes. Although to be fair, I'd say my own humor probably could sometimes be described as recycled and tired (hopefully minus the whole racism thing, HELLO Han Lee!). So I guess my point is, I do see some similarities between myself and Caroline, and that I think to enjoy Two Broke Girls, you need to pretend that you're watching a theater piece written by some old college friend who liked Family Guy a little bit too much and just appreciate the effort.

I will admit that Caroline and I both have similar bubbly and enthusiastic personalities and share an I-don't-have-a-sense-of-dignity approach to life. Additionally, I think that Caroline is the first girl I'd call if I needed a rat situation handled!

Jews Gone Wild

Today I saw something that I never thought I would see. Never even imagined. Shit got real. Really real. 

In New York, it's not uncommon to come across a van full of Orthodox Jews spreading the good word about how awesome it is to be a Jew. I love when it's Hanukkah and they hand out free menorahs and doughnuts. I've seen the Mitzvah Mobile, or "Jew Canoe" as we say in my family, on more than several occasions over the years, especially since I've lived in two of Brooklyn's heavily Hassidic neighborhoods. 

Ask you annnyythinggg? Yeah, you're prob gonna regret that by the end of our conversation...

This is how us Jews keep it pimpin'

I've never seen more than a single mitzvah mobile at a time. Until today. This afternoon I was making my way back to the office, and legit saw about thirty vans and trailer trucks speeding up Sixth Avenue all adorned with this banner:

When I say speeding, I mean speeding. We're talking about the vans not even bothering to stop for red lights. They refused to close ranks for reds as they blasted celebratory Jewish music at top volume. Come on people, Moshiach is here! There's no time for red lights!! 

I was personally almost run over when attempting to legally cross the street (for once I wasn't even jaywalking) before I realized what was going on. I thought their message of "just add in goodness and kindness" was a tad ironic given that the group almost committed several hit-and-runs. To add to this madness,  five or six cop cars were following the unsanctioned parade, sirens wailing and all, trying to stop this major traffic violation. The Jewish crusaders weren't having it. They kept on going. Obviously if Moshiach is more important than red lights, he's most certainly more important than the measly popo! Duh!

Please enjoy this educational video. It's informational and highly entertaining!

JOIN THE MOVEMENT! CLICK HERE! WOOHOO!! 

(If anyone's wondering, I'm Jewish, so this post is 100% A-Okay and anything I say can't be considered racist, so there.  :p)

Photo credits: greetmoshiach.com

About Time

Finally! After almost two years as a mold inspector, I've finally visited the home of what I'd call a true "crazy cat lady". 

I aspire to be a combination of Eleanor Abernathy and Captain Horatio McCallister one day

The story is actually rather tragic, the woman is the soul heir to a multi-billion dollar fortune and I guess suffers from some sort of mental disorder. I googled her family – apparently her grandfather (?) gained notoriety during his life as an archetypal representation of a Robber Baron. He has been ranked as one of America's top ten richest men of all time as well as one of America's worst CEOs of all time. Sheesh! What a legacy. Okay history lesson over, back on track. The apartment owner was not present at the time of inspection, although her love of cats most certainly was. The apartment was a bit scary, I felt like I needed to burn my clothes afterwards, but below is a sampling of some of her fabulous knickknacks: 

"Mr. Whiskers, Butterscotch, Katy Purry! Let's get your party bonnets on in time for afternoon tea!"

An avid lover of all animals – no h8 for the dogz out there

Lipstick? Check. Push-up bra? Check. Cat hair? Check. Okay, let's go tear this town up.

Um....

Photo credits: The Simpsons

Stop, Drop, and Roll

Uh oh, Heather Graham! Breaking news: Bathroom candles spark blazing fire in Heather Graham's Manhattan penthouse. Guess who's been in that exact penthouse? And for that matter, that exact bathtub?? Mmhmm. Answer is me. Unfortunately I did not have a chance to take a candlelit bath during my visit. And very fortunately I did not set any fires either. I had no idea Zach Braff lived in the same building. I'm hoping that the sprinklers went off and caused a whole bunch of water damage  so that Heather's "people" will have to bring me back. Who knows, maybe I'll end up reenacting some Scrubs scenes with Zach and Heather!

Who's ready to play Doctor?

Photo Credits: Scrubs

Spooky, Scary

Many of you may ask, what could possibly be scarier than a Werewolf Bar Mitzvah? Admittedly not much. Although recently I came across an article that could give such a thing a run for it's money. As I hope you all know, severe weather storms have become increasingly common with recent climate change. According to *science*, the incidence of injury due to FLESH EATING FUNGI is on the rise. A common, usually harmless soil fungus known as Apophysomyces (do NOT google images of this) turns flesh eating and deadly when given the chance to enter the body through an open wound. A wound obtained and contaminated thanks to blunt force trauma in a tornado for instance. Oy vey!

Remember kids, a flesh-eating fungi is not a fun guy to have at your bar mitzvah. Stay safe in those storms people!

Ugh, I'm terrible.

Photo Credits: 30 Rock

Ask Moldy

I studied every rerun of Ask Ashley for advice-giving inspiration

Just wondering, anybody have any burning questions regarding the fascinating world of mold? The Mold Girl? Subway shenanigans? Mold related advice? Well feel free to ask them here! Email the Mold Girl at: themoldgirl@gmail.com, ask a question on the facebook page, or post a comment on the Mold Girl website! Even if it's completely unrelated, I'd be thrilled to respond to anything thrown my way...

...Especially situations involving this statement

Or this...

Photo credits: Anne Taintor, The Amanda Show