Keriosity

I read a headline today that actually made me break out in a cold sweat: “Rapid die-off of bees threatens food supply.” Apparently, bees are dying in large numbers due to some parasite and no one is pollinating our fruits and vegetables. My all-time favorite food, The Strawberry, is being threatened by the death of my sworn-enemy, The Bee. I feel a little panicky. Well I guess they might eventually be able to clone strawberries without aid of pollination. Or maybe it’s time that the butterfly step up. Either way – I think I’d rather have no bees.

When I say “I am afraid of bees” – I don’t think you can fully appreciate how afraid. So afraid that I will not include a picture of a bee on this post. Instead, I will include pictures of kittens. (I love kittens)

So afraid that I had to go to therapy for bee-phobia. I’m talking full-out panic afraid.

(more…)

So, on the day when all of the inspectors came to the new house, a giant wolf spider made its presence known by hanging out on the living room floor. Not wanting to appear like a “girl” in front of all the manly inspectors, I waited until no one was in the room and I scooted the spider out of the front door using the end of the tape measure, which I had extended to a spider-safe distance of 5 feet. But, the natural animal-lover in me isn’t as easily hidden as the “girl” in me, so of course I had to talk to the spider reassuringly. “Now you get out of here, little guy. That’s right. Out the door with you!” I looked up to see the punk-surfer chimney guy watching me suspiciously. “I can’t believe you just did that” he said. “I would have squished him. That is a HUGE spider!” I explained that I was afraid that if I tried to step on him, the spider would grab my leg and pull me to the floor where a vicious battle would surely ensue. Has anyone else ever seen that 1977 flick, Kingdom of the Spiders? Starring William Shatner? No? Well I have. Spiders can kick your ass.

Once our move into the house became imminent and I had spent enough time at the house to realize that spiders were going to be an issue, I started doing research online to learn which spiders I can expect to come across and which might kill me. Ugh! What an itchy 2 hours that was! Not only did I learn about identifying spiders, but I learned that some people in this world actually trap spiders and keep them as pets. And name them! All pet spiders are named Wolfie, Legs, Spike, or Charlotte, by the way. (If I had a pet spider, I would name him “Eek!” And then I would check myself into the nearest insane asylum. Keeping a wild spider as a pet is just not something sane people do.)

My online research lead me to a chart of non-dangerous vs. dangerous spiders, or, more practically speaking: spiders you can squish with a rolled up magazine vs. spiders you have to squish with a broom. Most need to be squished with a broom. Also, a good drowning using a hose works well too. You never want to try to kill a dangerous spider with a magazine or tissue, because what if you miss and the spider jumps on your hand and kills you?

I don’t care what that book my parents read to me as a child said: Spiders are not “our friends.” They are icky and scary and leggy and sneaky.

Here is the most traumatic experience I’ve ever had in regards to a spider: Often when I’m sleeping, I open my eyes and I think I see spider webs over my face or I think there’s a giant spider in my bed. I can’t tell you how many times my husband has woken up by either me screaming and throwing all the covers off the bed, or the movement of me, in my sleep, waving away “webs” in the air over my face. (This web-spider-hallucination thing is actually not that uncommon. So stop thinking that I’m crazy.) But - one night, I had an itch on my lip and I felt something there and I grabbed it and threw it on the floor, yelling “Turn on the light!!!!” Emil, out of habit, grumbled “There is NO spider. Go back to sleep.” But once the lights were on, and I saw there WAS a half-squished spider on the floor, I was both vindicated and horrified.

“That spider was on my LIP!!! MY LIP!!!”
“Great - finally an actual spider. We are never going to have a quiet night’s sleep again” Emil muttered.
“I could have eaten it by accident!”I cried. He wasn’t very sympathetic.

Someone once told me that the average person eats 10 bugs a year. The average WHAT person? Reality show contestant? Jungle-dwelling tribe member? Homeless person? I find it very hard to believe that I ingest 10 bugs a year and don’t know about it. How often do you hear of a person eating a bug? Like 3 times in your life? I’d think that if you ate 10 bugs a year, you’d know about at least 7 of them. Also, we’d all talk a lot less because, I don’t know about you, but if I thought that there was a possibility of inadvertently eating 10 bugs a year, I’d never open my mouth.

I’m really itchy now so I’m going to stop writing about spiders. Ugh!

A few weeks ago, I spent 2 days in Vegas, having a lovely time with friends. And then this happened:

We decided to stop by Haagen Daz in The Venetian hotel for a tasty afternoon treat, when I noticed a large plaster ice-cream cone statue - like Mr. Peanut, but an ice-cream cone. Anyway, it was holding coupons in its hand and without really thinking about it, I go up to take a coupon and of course, like an idiot, it doesn’t occur to me that it’s a person dressed up like an ice-cream cone and just as I reach for a coupon, he snatches his hand away and I jump about 4 feet. And then ALL of the 107 customers in Haagen Daz and the 3 employees, and the thousands of people walking by all start to laugh hysterically and point at me. I was not amused. Yet I played it off - haha, yes how funny. He sure got me! hardy har har.

Well the ice cream cone would not let it go. He followed me into the store and continued to harass me! I tried to have a polite sense of humor about it until I could swear that the little slit where his eyes must have been was pointed significantly south of my necklace, and then I had enough. When he handed me a third coupon, I grabbed onto his hand and insisted “No, really. You can stop now. In fact - seriously! Go. Away. NOW.” He slithered off to embarrass others.

I really hate those kinds of characters and I want to know: What parole board or prison-outreach program casts them? And then I want to know why these weirdos always pick me! Ok, in this case I walked right into it - but normally, they pick on me when I am innocently minding my own business. I’ve had a balloon-animal maker guy actually HIT me in the head with balloons during his little shtick - I guess trying to be funny or flirt with me or something. (My 2-year-old niece was glaring at him with daggers in her eyes. She’s a little protective of me.) I’ve had those living statue people reach out and touch me. I swear that Minnie Mouse was a little too friendly a few years ago outside those spinning teacups. And now I have this pervert rapist ice cream cone incident. Vegas, as you may know, is FULL of living statues, wax statues, plaster statues, all kinds of statues. I was a paranoid post-traumatic wreck for the rest of the trip! Even at a diner in the middle of the desert 190 miles out of Vegas, I kept one eye on my french toast and one eye on the Elvis statue next to me.

I think that these characters can be grouped in with Clowns as a category of weird scary beings who are obviously dangerous and should be avoided if at all possible.

I have met people who were Disney characters, and I don’t include those people in this category (even the lesbian Minnie Mouse, since lesbianism isn’t a form of depravity.) I consider the Disney character people to have a rather odd manifestation of masochism.

The “clown” category people are those who display a form of sadism in which they get off on forcing the shy public to interact with them by inflicting some form of extreme embarrassment - but all from behind the shield of a bizarre costume and a “happy” character. No emotionally healthy person who choose this job. Please - you know it’s true. There could be a whole group of laughing joyful fearless children, and who does the clown pick as his victim? The shy child who is clinging to her mom. We’ve all witnessed this. Ask 10 people on the street what they think of clowns and 8 will shudder. Try it!

No one likes these characters. Have you ever heard anyone say “Oh, look! A funny ice cream cone man! Oooo I hope he comes over to me!”? Never. Everyone reacts the same way: They mutter “oh sh*t, I hate those things.” Then they avoid eye-to-slit contact with the cone and try to leave the area as quickly as possible without attracting any attention. No one wants to play with the creepy ice cream cone.

It is my opinion that only a truly sadistic person with an extremely low self-esteem dresses up as a faceless object and tortures a person in an ice cream store for a good 5 minutes. And only a girl who REALLY wants $1 off her ice-cream purchase and simultaneously takes a leave of absense from her brain would naively reach for a coupon from such a perv. Next time I’ll kick him first and hope he drops all the coupons. Eh, screw the coupons. I’ll just kick him.

(Sunny and 68)

Ok I seriously need to relax. I am not in New York City anymore. I’m still in my state of readiness to do battle at a moments’ notice (meanwhile - “battle” for me is more like flailing my arms, screaming and running at any sign of danger, but that’s besides the point.) As my sister and I simultaneously suggested last week - we get our paranoia from our dad. The man kept a 9mm handgun under his bed during our childhood and swore that people were going to unhitch our camper as we drove through the bronx on our way upstate to go camping - who wouldn’t develop a bit of a nervous vibe? As I stated before, my new community has a pretty low crime rate compared to NYC, so I CAN actually relax. But will I? It remains to be seen. Here are some examples:

1. We live on the edge of a nature preserve/canyon that is supposedly full of wildlife - including, bunnies, falcons, skunks, snakes, bobcats, and coyotes. The coyotes are what worry me the most because they are smart and will learn your dog walking schedule and will wait for you and attack your dog. It’s been known to happen. I’m extra nervous about coyotes. One sunny afternoon, I was out walking Milhous and this big canine animal comes running towards us, so I immediately think “Coyote!!” and I snatch up Milhous, which makes him really mad because he’s ready for anything and I just made him look like a fool - not to mention myself because here comes this ferocious “coyote” with a pretty sparkly collar and a friendly wagging tail! In the middle of the day. Meanwhile…her name is Bambi, and she’s a shepherd mix who loves little dogs but is scared of people, her owner informs me. And now every time Milhous sees her, he’s extra bully-ish because of how I emasculated him at their first meeting.

2. One day, I decided to be brave and leave the door unlocked while walking Milhous, only to return and find the door LOCKED! And I was home alone. My first thought was NOT that Emil must have come home, not realized I was out with the dog, locked the door behind him, and promptly went to the bathroom where he was unable to hear me knocking or do anything about it anyway for a few minutes - but that ROBBERS must have coincidentally been right there when I left the apartment 5 minutes before, saw that I didn’t lock the door, went inside and locked me out so that they would have plenty of time to steal my purse, which is the only thing IN our apartment right now. And because locking themselves IN is the smart thing for robbers to do anyhow. I am a retard. And to make matters worse, when no one came to the door after I rang the bell ( only robbers wouldn’t come to the door, not a husband who is otherwise…detained) - I walk across the street to the neighbor who was working in his garage and say nervously “Did you see anyone go into my apartment?!” He’s like - “Uh, no?” I said “Oh my god - I was walking the dog and I left the door unlocked and NOW IT’S LOCKED!” He said “Is your husband home?” I said “No, he’s out!” My neighbor looked startled too - because what maniac is going around the complex locking themselves in people’s apartments? He grabs his baby and we go walking over only to have Emil open the door and say “Hi!” I can honestly say I was shocked. I was so into the robbers thing that I could not believe it would be Emil who locked me out. I had to look at the neighbor all sheepish and say “hee hee - oh, he’s home!” Mortified. I was so embarrassed. To save face, I had to yell at Emil as we walked into the apartment loud enough for the neighbor to hear.

3. One late night, we were almost out of gas and would need to stop along the 5 freeway. We don’t know the areas very well. I decided that the navigation systems should post the crime rates of all the neighborhoods that you pass through - because they all sound nice, but you have no idea if they are. Wouldn’t that be handy? Anyway - we stop at a station right off the freeway. We don’t know where we are, but there are plenty of people also there to get gas, which makes me all the more nervous. More people to car-jack us, shoot us, shoot at each other and miss and hit us, etc. And who knows if these people have enemies who might do a drive-by at this very moment? This is how my mind works when I’m in paranoia mode. Nothing is too outlandish. So what do I do? The smart thing: I lock the door the second Emil is out of the car, I study each and every person coming and going from the gas station (for the police sketch later), I keep my eye on Emil and his whereabouts at all times and who is looking at him, and when he is returning to the car, I wait until his hand is within 3 inches of the door before unlocking it and keep my finger on the lock button ready for the second he shuts the door. He sees my finger, rolls his eyes, and doesn’t shut the door. He just looks at me with the door dangerously ajar! Is he nuts?! What game is he trying to play?! “Just get in here and shut the door!” I hiss. He sighs and slowly closes the door - LOCK! “Let’s go!” I say. Once we are safely on the freeway, I ask “Don’t you ever get nervous about your surroundings?” “No.” he replies. “What?! NOOO?! You don’t ever get nervous that someone is going to mug you or steal your car or beat you up?” “No.” he repeats. “……..Well that’s just stupid!” I state.

Stupid? He’s not the one thinking that robbers are locking themselves in his apartment and that sparkly-collared coyotes are out for an afternoon Milhous snack. While I think it’s smart to be aware of potential danger and protect oneself accordingly - I need to get a grip. This is why I wasn’t a good match for NYC. Too many weirdos to confirm my own weirdness. I’m in California now. In a great area. Orange County. The OC. People are not going to mug me. Gelson’s baggers who offer to help me load my grocery bags into my car are not looking for money. And I noticed that I can walk past a group of construction workers without getting the usual harrassment so I don’t need to have my “Don’t f**k with me” glare polished and ready to go.

I’m not used to this so it may take a while.