Bugs Love ME

     I hate bugs. I hate everything about them. I don't care that they feed pretty birds and cool animals like the aardvark - they're repulsive and gross and have waaay too many legs. What do they need all those legs for I ask you? I'll tell you . . . to chase after me while I'm running all over creation screaming like a little girl. Bugs are the one thing that my world could do without.

     I don't think I'd have such an intense dislike of insects if they weren't so weirdly attracted to me. I am a mosquito magnet- everyone will want to stay near me because I'll get bit by every damn bug and they'll be bite-free. If there is a huge, hairy, nasty wingy thing within 1 mile, I'm the one they'll call on. Once, when Alan and I were in Washingston State, we were having a romantic walk along a pier at sunset. It was beautiful...the sky in blues and greens, the water quietly lapping against the beach, Alan gazing adoringly into my eyes! It was one of the most romantic moments in my life . . . up until a mutant roach with wings dived into my hair. I started running in circles screaming "Get it out! Get it out!" and the disgusting little bugger wouldn't get out! Alan was wrestling with it and the more he tried, the deeper the thing burrowed into my hair! I swear I think the thing took up residence and was buying throw pillows or something. Finally, just before I was about to lose it and jump into the water, Alan pried it out of my locks. I spent the rest of night traumatized, twitching at random times and thinking it was still in my hair.

     Another time I was getting up for work at 6am and walked into the bathroom to wash up. I came face to fangs with the most humungous spider I have ever had the misfortune to meet. It was literally the size of a golf ball and it had an alien intelligence in its 50 billion eyes. Every single one of those eyes followed me as I slowly backed out of the bathroom and slammed the door. I then proceeded to scream shrilly, ran to the the bedroom where Alan was sleeping and shook him awake. He jumped up, thinking there was a fire/burgler/earthquake/end of the world and then I told him to go kill a big spider in the bathroom. He got pretty mad. After telling me what to do with the spider (which was anatomically impossible), he went back to bed. I decided I really didn't need to brush my teeth or my hair and went to work hoping the eight-legged beast bit Alan's ass when he sat on the toilet to poo.

    The worst part of bugs in my universe is that I am completely incapable of killing them. Not that I don't want to...oh dear Lord I want to smush those horrid things into paste...I can't kill them even when I try to! Everytime I swing to smack them, I miss. And then I see them pointing and laughing and mooning me. Last night I brought M2 into the bathroom to brush his teeth when a very large, very hairy, very vomit-inducing fly buzzed in. I started shrieking and danced around while M2 starts laughing his little butt off. I decided to sacrifice my Cosmo magazine to kill the thing and thanked the Lord it was slow. I took a swing and got him!...but he buzzed off. I hit him again . . . and he gave me the finger. I smacked again . . .  and he started doing his nails. I managed to find the fly version of the Terminator! This thing had kevlar or something, I swear! Alan came in and made a few disparaging remarks, and while he was mocking me took a swing with the flyswatter. The SuperBug still lived! After 2 more hits Alan finally sent to him buggy hell, but it was scary how die-hard that thing was!

     I don't like bugs but bugs looove me. Maybe that explains the multitude of low-lifes that I've dated . . . I seem to attract the lowest form of life in every species! Every single creepy, crawly, nasty, slimy climb-in-your-ear-when-you're-sleeping-and-knit-slipcovers insect needs to die . . . unless you're cute. If you're a butterfly you're okay (I just have to look the other way while you're a caterpiller).

Which is probably a sad statement on how I see the world. Whatever. :D