Oops! My Dish Soap Turned Into Slime - Alex, the Alchemist - MCAT Chemistry

Oops! My Dish Soap Turned Into Slime - Alex, the Alchemist - MCAT Chemistry

It wasn’t a mess — it was an exothermic masterpiece.

▶ "It wasn’t a mess — it was an exothermic masterpiece."

Last Tuesday night, in Mom’s clean domain,

I borrowed her blender to “test protein chains.”

Mixed dish soap with eggs, vinegar too,

Declared it a buffer — counted it blew out the flue!

Hydrogen bonds did a tango with grease,

A surfactant samba — peace, deceased.

Polarity flipped like a TikTok trend,

Hydrophobic drama… that will never end.

I called it art, but the kitchen sued,

The fridge now speaks in molecule moods.

The fire alarm beatboxed in C-flat,

While the cat hissed, “I'm not cleaning that.”

Emulsification? Insubordination!

Micelles rioted — full chemical nation.

My beaker screamed, “I’m sentient now!”

Then leapt from the counter with a “ka'ow!”

Oops! My dish soap turned into slime!

Polymer chains did the Harlem Time.

It stuck to my soul, my thesis draft,

Even the ghost of Avogadro laughed.

Oops! The dog’s been renamed “Hydroxide,”

He glows in the dark, demands stir-fry.

Mom yelled, “Explain this in a chart!”

So I drew phase diagrams... in farts.

Catalyst? Nope. Teen derangement.

Entropy rising like midterm engagement.

I stirred borate, glucose, shame,

Watched my GPA burst into flame.

Even GPT said, “Bro, not right.”

My slime pitched itself on Shark Tank that night.

Rheology rules? I danced the phase,

Wrote sonnets in slime and set them ablaze.

Covalent bonds tried to elope,

While pH levels scrolled “no hope.”

Kinetic or emotional pain?

This beaker cries like my 10th grade brain.

Osmosis whispered, “I miss my wall.”

Then osmotically wept down the hall.

It oozed through tiles, it called my name:

“Kid, you’re why science went insane.”

Oops! My dish soap transcended form,

Filed taxes, morphed into a dorm.

It gave a TED Talk on synthetic tears,

Then vanished screaming, “I run careers!”

Oops! The mop wrote a haiku goodbye,

Dad moved out — muttered, “The slime is why.”

But beneath the mess, a truth still shone:

“Science isn’t clean. It’s cloned in unknown.”

Then slime declared itself “Chemical Pope,”

Blessed the spatula, slid down the slope.

Canonized soap as “Saint Detergent,”

My GPA fled — “This is urgent.”

Molarity sobbed in a Shakespeare tone,

Gibbs free energy ghosted its phone.

I tried to balance the ionic parade—

Slime said, “Too late. I got tenure today.”

“You aimed for Harvard, I chose absurd.

You studied hard — your future’s... curd.”

So when your mop just tries to phone home,

Don’t call it a spill. Don’t call it crime.

Call it... the day your cortex learned to slime.

We sing of soap, of bonds, of fate,

Of beaker dreams and osmosis ha-ate.

Of glitter truths and sinks that scream,

And the toilet that… still holds the meme. 🚽💥