The day I almost ate an earwig

[Tweet “HOUSE GUEST: Est.1975 Almost Ate A Earwig! “]

Most of the bloggers that I have introduced to you so far have been writers who identify their work as Mom Blogging. This week I am SO EXCITED to introduce you to the absolutely hysterical Sarah del Rio aka Established1975. Sarah writes about marriage, kids, and life in general in a remarkably comedic way. Her work is irreverent, smart, and uses all of the classic tropes and strategies of a brilliant comic.

If you are just tuning in, the House Guest series introduces emerging and established voices in the mom blogger world to the Housewife Plus audience. The writers featured here share their stories about parenting, marriage, and life in general. They are sometimes serious, other times funny, but always real.

By Sarah del Rio

Hello. My name is Sarah. And this summer, I almost ate an earwig.

I can only hope that you’re not eating anything right now, but if you are, I’d recommend finishing it up, pushing your plate away, and preparing to suppress your gag reflex. No, seriously. Get that thing on lock down. Because I’m just a hot minute from telling you all about how I ended up having one of THESE in my mouth:


Pictured: the noble earwig. PRO TIP: Do not get in mouth.

But first, let’s back up a second and establish some context.

I’m sure you’ve undoubtedly laid eyes on the phenomenon known as the Starbucks Cold Cup. It’s a clear, double-walled, reusable plastic tumbler, emblazoned with the Starbucks logo, that comes equipped with a sturdy green straw (also reusable.)

The Cold Cup is wonderful. It is marvelous. It is the perfect product for people like me, who choose drinking vast quantities of cold beverages through a straw as their preferred method for keeping themselves refreshed, hydrated, and alive. There are an awful lot of us, by the way, which explains why Starbucks sells approximately 79 kajillion billion of these tumblers each year.

My Starbucks Cold Cup lives in my kitchen cabinet, which is where I came across it on that fateful day—you know, the day that I almost ingested a freaking earwig? I remember it like it was yesterday. It was an arid and unpleasant day in late June; the weather was boiling hot, my mouth was dry as a bone, and I had THE THIRST. You know THE THIRST, don’t you? Water does nothing to satisfy it. Only a humongous glass of diet Coke or iced tea will do.

I needed my Starbucks Cold Cup.

I took the tumbler down from the cabinet. I filled it with perspiring ice cubes and 24 ounces of sun tea. I screwed on the lid, inserted the reusable sturdy green straw, and then took a long, sweet-ass drag.

Which is when IT happened.

I’ve given a lot of thought to this unfortunate event since the day it took place. The best explanation I’ve come up with is that at some point, an earwig was out on its morning constitutional, when suddenly it thought to itself: “I’m tired. Why not crawl into this sturdy green straw and die?” Because crawl into my sturdy green straw and die it had. And as I took the aforementioned long, sweet-ass drag of iced tea, its decaying earwig corpse slid right up the straw and into my mouth.

At which point I thought it was a piece of crushed ice and BIT DOWN ON IT.

When the alleged piece of crushed ice was not hard and crunchy like ice, but soft and “whatever the living hell this is, it shouldn’t be in my drink” like an earwig, I spit it out into the sink, saw what it was, and gagged forever.

After a long while, I did manage to collect myself. I rinsed my mouth out with cold water, brushed my teeth for ten years, and rejoined the land of the people who had not just almost eaten earwigs. I then proceeded to march around the house impressing upon my family just how traumatized I was.




My husband and son were less than moved by my ordeal, at which point I pronounced them cold of blood and cruel of heart. I explained in no uncertain terms that if one of THEM ever suffered the misfortune of biting down on a dead earwig, they’d wish they hadn’t been so quick to dismiss my emotional distress. I informed them that for all they knew, I might have been this close to dying of earwig poisoning. Then they’d have been sorry. THEY’D HAVE BEEN SORRY!

The men eventually got sick of Earwig! The Musical and moved on to another part of the house, leaving the ingénue of the production without an audience. Bored, but still full of adrenaline, I went on the hunt for any remaining earwigs that might still be inhabiting the kitchen. I didn’t find any, but in an attempt to do SOMETHING productive in the face of tragedy, I decided to go through the cupboards and throw out every cup that came with a straw, including the offending Cold Cup. I even threw out a sealed package of unused straws, just to be safe. I wasn’t going to give those gross little monsters even a shred of opportunity.

Never again.

Or at least not until the very next day, when temperatures hit a record high, and I found myself driving home from our local Starbucks with a brand new Cold Cup . . . and a matching sturdy green straw.


sarahdelrioBIO: Sarah del Rio is a comedy writer whose award-winning humor blog est. 1975 brings snark, levity, and perspective to the ladies of Generation X.

Despite being a corporate refugee with absolutely no formal training in English, journalism, or writing of any kind, Sarah somehow manages to find work as a freelance writer and editor.

She contributes regularly to blog site BLUNTMoms, has made several appearances on the Huffington Post Best Parenting Tweets of the Week List, and her blog est. 1975 won Funniest Blog in The Indie Chicks 2014 Badass Blog Awards. She has also been featured on blog sites Scary Mommy, In the Powder Room, and the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop.

You can find Sarah’s blog at Established 1975. You can also like her on Facebook at Facebook, and follow her on Twitter.

Sarah Cottrell

About Sarah Cottrell

Maine-based writer Sarah Cottrell is the voice behind Housewife Plus at the Bangor Daily News and is a regular contributor to Disney’s Babble and Momtastic. She is a co-author in six books including I Still Just Want To Pee Alone from the New York Times Bestselling series. Sarah’s work has also been highlighted and featured by SELF Magazine, National Public Radio, Washington Post, and VICE Tonic.