Parasites. *shudder*

no, not this kind

Contrary to what the title may make you think this blog is about, it is NOT about what I lovingly refer to as my every day ankle parasites: kids. It doesn't really have much to do with them at all. I KNOW, SHOCKER! Not that I can't blame them for it... I can... I can blame anything on them (see last night's blog)- but I have a bigger bone to pick with someone else. And I figured since Thursday is notoriously "bad blog night" where the majority of readers are off diddling or doing who in the hell knows what, i'd treat you with a tale of my complete and utter stupidity. You may now be asking: How is that different from any OTHER tale I tell?
Three words:

Mother.Fucking.Nature.

Just like i'm not talking about my kids when I say parasites, i'm not talking about my period when I say mother nature (not this time anyways). I'm being quite literal:
If you asked me to go camping, i'd tell you i'd rather take sandpaper to my lady-bits. Go for a hike? Fall off a fucking cliff! Canoeing, a day at the lake, a picnic in the park? You can take all of that and shove it up your hiney-hole. I am NOT interested!
It's not just that I am not particularly fond of weather... or that my skin is so pale that even with the highest SPF ever created slathered all over my skin and making me look like Powder I still burn to a crisp and expand my freckle-to-skin ratio- no, no, those are just the icing on the cake that is my hatred for that old bag.

Really my issue stems from BUGS. I fucking HATE bugs. And where do you find bugs? Who CREATES bugs and sees a purpose for them? No, not entomologists, damnit- MOTHER NATURE.

And wouldnt you know it, I live in a buggy damn state. If it's not the mosquitoes trying to eat you alive like it's the zombie apocalypse and you're the only living thing left they can stick their teeth into, it's the gnats, or the flies, or the bees that quite literally always have a stick stuck up their asses, or the ants that just won't GO the fuck away and the SPIDERS! FUCK YOU SPIDERS! I HOPE YOU DIE AND ROT IN HELL!

ahem... moving on.

Yes, I HATE bugs. And thanks to bugs and liking to avoid skin cancer, I avoid most things that keep me outdoors. Unless those things include rollercoasters, but that's another story.

Kids kind of, ok, completely muck up this plan of mine. If I don't take them outside, I begin to feel as though I will explode entrails all over the stupid ass eggshell white walls in this house, and of course, have to be the one to clean them up. In order to keep this feeling at bay, the only thing to do is to let the psychos children run off some energy outside for a little while (weather permitting, fucking mother nature!)

This is where my paranoia psychic powers comes into play IN my favor. Nature really IS bad for me!

Let me start by saying, in my defense, that it's not that I AVOID looking at myself naked. I mean, i'm not staring for a hair to spring up on a nip or measuring the tattis to see how the might have fallen, and i'm certainly not doing a full cavity search on myself (i'm not that flexible, y'all), so things can go UNNOTICED. Ok?
Also let me start by saying that while I like to think i'm some new form of super sarcastic cursey super genius (not really)- I am NOT ALWAYS SMART and therefore make really fucking dumbass-tastic decisions.
Clear? Ok, moving on.

So i'm in the fucking shower, marveling at just how much red is STILL washing out of my hair and the fact that it looks like a crime scene, when I noticed something abnormal.
A red spot on my thigh, with what appeared to be a black dried blood scab over it.
Odd, how did that get there? I don't remember getting cut, I don't shave that high (this was chartering close to hoo-ha territory)... but I do have kids.. so really anything is possible. Also, I don't like scabs, so this ugly bitch has gotta go.

When I picked at it, though, it didn't come off. It's not like I picked hard, but usually running under warm water for that long and a scab will come right off, at least without much of a fight.
THAT, my friends, is when my stomach sank. IS IT A TICK?!?!?!

A smart person may have bent down and gotten a good look at it... Like I said, i'm not always smart. Also, I like to live in denial. Also, I would freak out if it was a tick. Also, it was too close to my vagina in bad lighting to call the husband in for closer inspection.
I attempted to go about my business, wash my hair, shave my stupid legs... but that little black spot, it kept CALLING to me. I swear to jeebus it was beckoning me to look at it., and the more I look, the more I wanted it gone. I didn't care WHAT it was, it had to go.

Like the mature adult I am, I looked away an started picking at it. It moved DOWN, but didn't come off. That's when I went all feral-fucking-cat-on-catnip on the bitch and tore that sucker right off and let it fall to the bottom of the tub, never to be heard from again. It was also at that point that I looked down at the wound left behind and quickly realized this was no regular old run of the mill "I have a scab i'm not sure where from but i'm positive the kids had something to do with it" kind of scab.

definitely not this cool

It wasn't until it was time to get out of the shower that I noticed a little black speck floating around the bottom of the tub that looked an awful lot like the scabby-like thing I picked off my leg, and once I got my va-jay covered, I called Thomas in to look at it.
Sure enough, A FUCKING TICK.

Two things:
1. i'm lucky as all fuck that I got the HEAD out while picking at that little douchelick. A tick head BURIED in my upper thigh? BARF!
2. I'm SUPER fucking lucky that little douchelick, upon looking him up, is not a carrier of ANY kind of disease.


And I have a few questions:
1. WHY so near my no-no spot? WHY? I was wearing PANTS the past few days, so your dumb fucking ass had to crawl ALL the way up my leg to get to this spot on my thigh and THEN sink in? Really? That just seems stupid as all hell. Making more work for yourself, it's no wonder you're dead.
2. It would figure that my first tick bite in recollective memory turns out to be one that is said SELDOM TO ATTACH TO HUMANS!
3. If dogs can have things like Frontline and Advantix and other crap of that nature to repel these little fuckers- why can't we?? Discrimination I tell you!

So yeah, y'all, I HATE the outdoors and everything that comes along with it. Can you blame me?? Allow me to be overdramatic and exaggerate the situation for you and see if that gives me a good enough of an excuse to NEVER GO OUTSIDE AGAIN:
I AM GOING TO DIE! MY LEG IS GOING TO BECOME GANGRENOUS AND FALL OFF! ALL BECAUSE I WAS FORCED TO LET MY CHILDREN (WHO DIDN'T GET BIT BY ANY EFFING TICKS) RUN FREE! OH, THE HUMANITY!


No? The caps weren't good enough? Damnit. Back outside we go again, but let me tell you, I am NOT pleased about it!