Hey, look at that--I have a blog.
It will eventually be live again, hopefully soon.
Ps. 5-hour energy makes me hot. Apparently this is normal, and is called "niacin flush". How creepy is that?
Showing posts with label yikes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yikes. Show all posts
Monday, July 26, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
I'm a killer.
I hit a possum coming home from watching the "Lost" finale.
I've never hit anything in my life. Except a curb.
My eyes were on the road. I was annoyed by the radio but not focused on it. And then this little whiteish rodent-looking thing was RIGHT in front of my car. And then it wasn't.
The feeling was worse than the sound. I could feel something--it--bounce along under the carriage of my car.
"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I'm sorry. Oh my God," I said.
On the radio, Katy Perry continued to sing about Daisy Dukes.
I only made one left turn the whole drive home, and when I did, I heard it again, ca-chunk, under the car.
The rest of the drive home was unnecessary turns, made sharply but not recklessly, trying to make sure that whatever was under my car was gone.
Heartless. I know.
When I got home, I hesitated opening the door. I kept picturing a tiny pink hand reaching up from under the car, slashing at my ankles. Even in tall leather boots, it's a terrifying thought.
But I had milk in the trunk! Milk goes bad! It must be saved!
Gingerly, I popped the trunk open and set one foot outside. I listened for harried breathing. And, as I always do, I sent a text message--I just hit a possum. :(-- to my mom and two friends I knew would be awake. Mom, I think, is asleep.
Friend one was sympathetic. Oh, no!
Friend two, less so. Oh? Ow.
Friend two knew about the milk. You should have seen me reach for the milk, I texted. I stood away from the car & leaned in. in case the dying animal reached for me with his tiny mangled paws. :(
Friend one got, I've never hit anything in my life.
He replied, I'm so sorry. That's awful.
Friend two, whose particular brand of snark you may have seen on this blog previously, said, You were so angry about the Lost finale you went on a possum-killing rampage! which was swiftly followed by You know, sometimes they do take down your license plate and plot their revenge. I heard that I Know What You Did Last Summer was actually based on a true story involving a raccoon.
i hate you, I texted.
Both friends, in an effort to lighten the mood/offset my guilt onto someone else, received, I'm certain it was a possum. At first my brain said, could that have been a cat? Or a human baby? Because I am nothing if not rational.
So, possum, I am sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I hope you had a lovely possum life, and that you are not so angry with me that you haunt my dreams or retreat into darkness, working overtime to become SuperPossum and exact sweet revenge on me with a tractor.
I love animals (really!), and I love you.
I've never hit anything in my life. Except a curb.
My eyes were on the road. I was annoyed by the radio but not focused on it. And then this little whiteish rodent-looking thing was RIGHT in front of my car. And then it wasn't.
The feeling was worse than the sound. I could feel something--it--bounce along under the carriage of my car.
"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I'm sorry. Oh my God," I said.
On the radio, Katy Perry continued to sing about Daisy Dukes.
I only made one left turn the whole drive home, and when I did, I heard it again, ca-chunk, under the car.
The rest of the drive home was unnecessary turns, made sharply but not recklessly, trying to make sure that whatever was under my car was gone.
Heartless. I know.
When I got home, I hesitated opening the door. I kept picturing a tiny pink hand reaching up from under the car, slashing at my ankles. Even in tall leather boots, it's a terrifying thought.
But I had milk in the trunk! Milk goes bad! It must be saved!
Gingerly, I popped the trunk open and set one foot outside. I listened for harried breathing. And, as I always do, I sent a text message--I just hit a possum. :(-- to my mom and two friends I knew would be awake. Mom, I think, is asleep.
Friend one was sympathetic. Oh, no!
Friend two, less so. Oh? Ow.
Friend two knew about the milk. You should have seen me reach for the milk, I texted. I stood away from the car & leaned in. in case the dying animal reached for me with his tiny mangled paws. :(
Friend one got, I've never hit anything in my life.
He replied, I'm so sorry. That's awful.
Friend two, whose particular brand of snark you may have seen on this blog previously, said, You were so angry about the Lost finale you went on a possum-killing rampage! which was swiftly followed by You know, sometimes they do take down your license plate and plot their revenge. I heard that I Know What You Did Last Summer was actually based on a true story involving a raccoon.
i hate you, I texted.
Both friends, in an effort to lighten the mood/offset my guilt onto someone else, received, I'm certain it was a possum. At first my brain said, could that have been a cat? Or a human baby? Because I am nothing if not rational.
So, possum, I am sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I hope you had a lovely possum life, and that you are not so angry with me that you haunt my dreams or retreat into darkness, working overtime to become SuperPossum and exact sweet revenge on me with a tractor.
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