When the fungal growth begins the insults relating to how long it’s been since you last shaved, it’s time.

At March 12, 2009
By Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom
In Miscellaneous Blabbering, Poll/Question
69

Psst. I have something to tell you, and a question.

*waving you in this direction*

Come closer. I’ll tell you.

No, closer. I’m going to whisper, and you need to be really close to hear.

Okay, ready?

I scrubbed my shower yesterday.

*looking around and over shoulder*

It was time.

*biting lip*

You know, *cough* Spring cleaning and all.

I mean… uh, not that I don’t regularly clean my shower. Heh. Yeah, not like that’s the case.

*fidgeting*

So, uh, you know… I clean my shower, you know… as often as you clean yours.

*leaning in*

*expectant*

How often would you say that you do that, anyway?

Not that I’m gauging my own level of disgusting neglect by what YOU do or anything.

Nope, not at all.

*whistling*

*still eyeballing you; waiting*

They’re Out to Get Me.

I swear they are. I’m only nervous around maybe 3 things and they probably rank 2 on that list. I don’t believe in fear, unless it’s of completely irrational things like bridges. I believe that they are plotting to attack me by the tens of thousands, when I least expect it, and carry me off to their underground lair to be tortured and lampooned for the rest of my days. Their kind has mastered the scientific method of prolonging life as well, so I may be subjected to their belligerence forever.

They run from most people. They are afraid and attempt to flee, hiding high and low to prevent being seen. But me? They run straight at me. It’s as if they know that my heart leaps into my throat at the sight of them. They enjoy it. They enjoy my terror. Maybe they mistake my fear for respect. Or maybe they are so excited by my blatant discomposure that they want to see just how bad it can get. How far they can push me before I literally pass out and die from it.

I’m afraid to get out of bed @ night. I always have been, no matter where I’ve lived because the bastards always find me. They follow me. Or they search me out. Or they keep track of me through complicated methods of pygmy correspondence and thus are able to alert their brethren of my imminent arrival. As soon as I turn the light on, I look around and make sure I’m alone. And as soon as I let my guard down, I realize that I’m not. That their super stealth force ninja agent was waiting just behind the threshold: unseen and silent, but deadly nonetheless.

They are outside. Inside. In doorways. In hallways. In bedrooms. In closets. In alleys. Under cars. Behind trashcans. On the back porch. Everywhere. And they are coming for me. I just know it.

Those six legged little bastards called “waterbugs.”
They will attack soon.

What’s out to get you?

(I’m Maria by the way. I’ll bet Lotus thought I was going to go all batshit crazy on her readers and make them be like “Holy hell, why the FUCK did you let this bitch guest post?” but I totally didn’t. Ha. I showed her. And you. And you don’t even know me. Heh.)

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When she’s not loosing creepy crawlies onto the internet via guest post, Maria writes over at her own website, Immoral Matriarch, in the style of someone you would expect to go batshit crazy at any given moment. Therein lies the attraction. *wink*