Hm. And um, about this entry. Uh, if you don't like reading about bugs or um, poop, then don't continue. I mean, I don't talk about the actual poop or anything, but it's... Well, it's an action in progress kind of thing for the story I'm about to tell. Yeah. I just thought I'd place a warning, just in case some people just really can't stand even the mention of poop. Of course, if you're one of those people, what on Earth are you doing reading my diary?
Anyway. This whole thing started when I realized I had to poop. Well, actually, I suppose you could credit the 2.5 potatos a day I've been eating for the past three weeks, but I don't want to get that technical.
... So I don't know what it is about me that bugs seem to love so much, but I really wish I had more choice in their attraction. So I'm sitting on the toilet, right? Having a nice quick little poop and stuff. And... oh, ergh, I just hate it when this happens...
I look around, and I notice that there are like, TEN GNATS in the bathroom. TEN! And of course [of course] they're all flying closer and closer to me. Like vultures, only teeny tiny... And they filled my heart with terror despite their size.
And so I'm freaking out, trying to grab some toilet paper so I can kill them, or at least some of them. The roll is spinning wildly out of control, what with my hurried grabbing of the toilet paper and all.
And keep in mind [or forget, if you'd just rather not remember] that I'm still on the toilet. Sitting on the toilet, pulling half the paper off the roll by now.
And that's when I notice the mosquito. This freaking HUGE ASS mosquito, flying right towards my face, coming from around the back of the toilet that I'm still sitting on. Which means, in case you're not as quick with your detective skills as I am at stating the obvious, that while I was... dumping, for lack of a better word [unloading?], it was lounging around the area of MY ASS.
I just know I'm going to wake up tomorrow morning with a huge bug bite on my bootie...
But that's still not the end of my story. See, I finally get enough toilet paper and swing it around and smack it against the wall and stuff that I manage to kill most of the flying pests. And then OUT OF FREAKING NOWHERE this freaking hyper killer ant comes speeding towards my feet!
So I'm all quietly freaking out so as not to wake the parentals, right? Wiggling on the toilet and trying to lift my feet off the floor so the hyper as hell killer ant from the bowels of Hades can't dismember my feet from my ankles with its mighty jaws of doom. And once again, I'm frantically pulling toilet paper off the roll...
But of course, it was SO FREAKING HUGE I didn't have to guts to kill it. And er, you know, spill its guts. See, I've got this thing against bugs, right? But I can't kill them, I can't even step on them when I'm wearing shoes, because that crunchy sound. Yech.
Yeah. So I take all the toilet paper, right? And I kind of improvise, and wrap the lotion bottle behind me like a mummy, and start whacking the poor beast over and over again. The repeated whacking wasn't out of cruelty, though... Trust me, I wanted that thing dead as soon as possible.
And you know, by this time, I'd really been on the toilet for far too long. It was getting very tiresome, what with defending my feet and my ass from the onslaught of those sex legged freaks, not to mention the whole getting rid of bodily waste thing.
But anyway. I'm noticing my legs are falling asleep at around the same time I decide to do the standard trapping thing with the ant, who still isn't dead. By trapping thing I mean that... thing. You know, like where the bug isn't dead yet, and you know as soon as you lift whatever it is on top of it [in my case, a mummified lotion bottle], that it'll start limping towards you at far too quick a pace for something that just lost 3/4 of its appendages.
Yeah, that trapping thing. And I know that I'm not the only person in this world that does that, so you just wipe that look off your face.
Anyway, so I've got the ant trapped, so I hurry up and finish [the roll was nearly down to the cardboard by this time]. And I flush and run to the dining room and grab the first book I see with a cover [which just so happened to by my Japanese book, which I should be studying now instead of typing this out]. And I ran back and whacked that poor little bastard ant into its next life.
I just finished scraping the guts off my book a little while ago. Surprisingly, it didn't leave much of a mess.
... And that's my poopie story for the night. I reckon this entry should more than make up for all the other crap entries lately...
I swear, the next time I make a pun, someone needs to... Um, laugh and leave me a note or sign my guestbook telling me how devilishly clever I am. That, or send me money.
Ta!
EDIT
Peaches just told me about a typo I made in this entry... sex legged freaks instead of six legged freaks. Freud would probably have something to say about that...
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