I'm Such a Crybaby
On Sunday I hurt my ankle.
I'd like to say that I hurt my ankle performing some cool sex trick that involved a swing... but alas. No.
I actually hurt it trying to get out of a garbage can, which may in fact prove the rumor that I am trash, true.
But no, I'm not trash. HA HA! You guys will have to prove that some other way. No, I was helping my dad with yard work. Which I hate and have hated as long as I can remember. Lately though I've been trying all this new stuff that I've always believed I didn't like. So far it turns out that I actually LIKE cauliflower, lobster is as gross as I imagined, asparagus is, if not yummy, at least edible, and ketchup isn't so bad after all.
I'm 25. Time to get over childhood fears.
So when Dad asked, hey Terra, come help out, I felt my foot go down in teenage rebellion, and then I got over it.
"Hey Dad!"
I'm standing in the bin on top of leaves.
"I don't think this is going down anymore. We're running out of room."
"Terra, I think it'll be fine."
"Umm" I glance down at my feet. "I don't think so." suddenly I spy a very fast moving spider. "And oh, there's a spider, picking up speed. I DON'T LIKE SPIDERS"
I bend down, grasp the side of the bin and start to stand on the lisp of the garbage can, which is, of course, not very wide. This spiders moving fast and I'm pretty far from the ground, surrounded by cement stairs and a pool. This is NOT a good place to fall. I've got one foot on the left side of the garbage can and I'm raising the other foot, precarious, when I notice OH SHIT THREE MORE FUCKING SPIDERS RUNNING RIGHT TOWARDS ME.
I can't get out of this can without falling on cement, on stairs, on piping, or into the fucking pool and if I stay still spiders are going to be all over me.
ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.
I'm screaming, I half fall out of the garbage can and now I'm hyperventilating and fucking crying. I'm not sure but I think this is the definition of hysterical.
oh dear. I remember now why I hated gardening.
My dad wipes the spiders off of me and I'm trying to stop screaming. thishastobethemostembaressingdayofmywholefuckinglife
Later Dad walks by me, and trying to be helpful, explains that the only poisonous spider in California is the black widow and nothing else can kill me.
hmm.
Did I ever once say that this was a rational fear? NO.
So end verdict, ketchup yes, cauliflower yes, asparagus no, lobster no, and gardening? FUCK NO.
pleasegodletmemarryamanwhowillkillallspidersformeandthechildren...amen
I'd like to say that I hurt my ankle performing some cool sex trick that involved a swing... but alas. No.
I actually hurt it trying to get out of a garbage can, which may in fact prove the rumor that I am trash, true.
But no, I'm not trash. HA HA! You guys will have to prove that some other way. No, I was helping my dad with yard work. Which I hate and have hated as long as I can remember. Lately though I've been trying all this new stuff that I've always believed I didn't like. So far it turns out that I actually LIKE cauliflower, lobster is as gross as I imagined, asparagus is, if not yummy, at least edible, and ketchup isn't so bad after all.
I'm 25. Time to get over childhood fears.
So when Dad asked, hey Terra, come help out, I felt my foot go down in teenage rebellion, and then I got over it.
"Hey Dad!"
I'm standing in the bin on top of leaves.
"I don't think this is going down anymore. We're running out of room."
"Terra, I think it'll be fine."
"Umm" I glance down at my feet. "I don't think so." suddenly I spy a very fast moving spider. "And oh, there's a spider, picking up speed. I DON'T LIKE SPIDERS"
I bend down, grasp the side of the bin and start to stand on the lisp of the garbage can, which is, of course, not very wide. This spiders moving fast and I'm pretty far from the ground, surrounded by cement stairs and a pool. This is NOT a good place to fall. I've got one foot on the left side of the garbage can and I'm raising the other foot, precarious, when I notice OH SHIT THREE MORE FUCKING SPIDERS RUNNING RIGHT TOWARDS ME.
I can't get out of this can without falling on cement, on stairs, on piping, or into the fucking pool and if I stay still spiders are going to be all over me.
ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.
I'm screaming, I half fall out of the garbage can and now I'm hyperventilating and fucking crying. I'm not sure but I think this is the definition of hysterical.
oh dear. I remember now why I hated gardening.
My dad wipes the spiders off of me and I'm trying to stop screaming. thishastobethemostembaressingdayofmywholefuckinglife
Later Dad walks by me, and trying to be helpful, explains that the only poisonous spider in California is the black widow and nothing else can kill me.
hmm.
Did I ever once say that this was a rational fear? NO.
So end verdict, ketchup yes, cauliflower yes, asparagus no, lobster no, and gardening? FUCK NO.
pleasegodletmemarryamanwhowillkillallspidersformeandthechildren...amen
Hilarious post. I do very well with creatures and spiders - and in fact I just caught a little fellow that I'll be writing about soon; however, when I'm not ready and a spider surprises me, I scream like an elphant having an orgasm.
p.s.
That is pretty freaky that you recognized Oakridge from that picture lol
Posted by
TIMMY! |
6:36 PM
yeah. I'm freaky like that. I'm also still pissed at the idea that they might sell alcohol in the food court and I've never noticed. I read that Curly likes spiders, she's so much cooler than me.
Posted by
TerraT |
12:09 PM
Spiders don't bother me too much which is good because my husband is terrified of them and I always have to kill them...he takes care of the dark shiny things for me (cockroaches, crickets, scorpions...)
Posted by
... |
12:40 PM
Ok, once mishka, I may have screamed and knocked over two office chairs and bolted out of the office for an hour while the guys PROMISED that they had killed a roach that was on my desk.
But this roach was like super roach. It was two inches high, which makes me think it was on a roach baseball team and hopped up on steroids.
Posted by
TerraT |
7:05 PM