Why I Can't Go on Fear Factor

Besides the fact that I would never climb out on a plane's wing, bungee jump off a sky-scraper, or ride in any car that goes purposefully airborne (except for that one time in Tai's old Charger), I could never win at a show like Fear Factor because they would probably ask you to eat something disgusting.

Now, I used to enjoy that show because I figured I could at least do the gross stuff like eating tentacles and bugs. I'm not Eval Kneivel perhaps, but I'd always prided myself on not being grossed out by...things.

I mean, come on, I tried worm pancakes in Grade 4 science class, and once I tried eating a mouse as a child. WHAT was I thinking, you may ask. Well, thank you very much Mr. Farley Mowat (mmmm, remember the souris a la creme in "Never Cry Wolf"?)

Also, I seem to recall some really disgusting "corn" bread made from gerbil food when my dear pre-adolescent friends and I liked to play "We're Lost in the Woods and It's a Survival Situation".

So I hypothetically had a shot at winning if I should ever find myself in front of cameras on that sort of reality show eating or wallowing in something gross.

But now I know I've been fooling myself. Somewhere along the way, my olfactory sense has honed and turned against me. NOW what would I do In a Survival Situation?

The SMELL factor would really be my downfall. Two recent incidents have led me to this conclusion.

Once, several months ago, I opened a small Tupperware container from the back of the fridege. "Hmmm, I wonder what this could be?", I said all unknowing. By the gods! How could vegetables in salad dressing become a thing of Satan? The thought of eating this runny lettuce suddenly sent chills down my spine! I would probably die if I had this smell in my mouth. Suddenly the rat-milkshake people from television had more of my respect (if that's the word).

And today at daycare, just at the end of a sunny pleasant day, my intestinal mettle was tested anew. I heard my co-worker calling out for someone to help her. I went in to the children's bathroom and was met with the sight of one of our kids projectile vomiting. My co-worker was splashed to the knees. The four other children in the washroom were similarly decorated. There was a tide of chunky pink puke everywhere.

On the mirrors, the baseboards, the art cupboard. Everywhere.

And the smell was a creature all its own. The other kids and Justine started to heave in sympathy. Oh my God! If there were going to be six people throwing up, I don't get paid enough! :)

I helped Justine herd them all out before disaster could strike. She took care of the poor little sick girl. And me, I was on cleanup duty. I waded in with rubber gloves and towels and bleach.

When I came out of there,my eyes were watering from the smell. Bazooka barfing in Technicolor Smell-A-Vision. That'll do it to ya.

And that's why I will never be seen on Fear Factor. I just know the smell would do me in. And by the way, childcare workers do not get paid enough. :)