For the sake of my blog's existence:

A certain mother of mine has this ridiculous onion fetish, whereas I view onions as the spawn of everything that tastes, smells, and looks rancid. She eats them daily, on EVERYTHING: sandwiches, quesadillas, special thanksgiving dishes, shoved into the crevices of each and every meal, and even unalloyed onions. Ironically, she thinks she is allergic to onions because while eating them, she usually begins to sneeze uncontrollably. The major downfall of this is that she always happens to leave her onions sitting around in bowls, exposing my house to the most unwelcome stenches. Being the fruit of this woman's loins, I kindly ask her to politely place her onions in a ziplock bag when she has completed this loathsome rendezvous, and though she always agrees to do so, I always catch her red handed, leaving those onions about.
I quit. The next time I find one of these, I'm slingshotting it into the neighbor's yard. That place is a dump anyways. And this post just goes to show that my mother is borderlining alzheimers, and my blog no longer deserves to exist.