Monday, August 23, 2010

Eew, bugs...

I hate bugs.

I don't think this comes at a surprise to anyone that knows me. I don't even really think this comes as a surprise to those people that don't know me, but have seen me around bugs. The make me do crazy things like jump around and shriek at awkward times. I would not do well in the rainforest. I would almost certainly be making more noise than the monkeys, while my leaping around would frighten off any other interesting wildlife.

So now that you have that background...

I was in Holland last week, er, 2 weeks ago? It doesn't really matter. In any case, I was in the South of Holland with all the trees, where the average age can't be lower than 65. I was sitting outside with Miguel and most of his family eating dinner at the hotel, when a bug decides to fly over to me and land on my shirt. (They are like cats, the are instantly attracted to the person that is most disgusted with them.) I maintain a certain level of calm as Miguel goes to casually brush it away. Only, it doesn't go as planned. Oh no.

I can see by the look on his face that something has gone horribly horribly wrong. And that I'm not going to like it. Yep, that icky little bug has gone DOWN my shirt. Shit. How do you maintain any level of dignity in front of your in-laws whilst digging around the front of your shirt for a bug? A bug that you're afraid to touch? It looked like I was trying to fondle myself. At dinner. Shit. The alternative was to strip. Which is better (or worse?)??

Mercifully, before my shirt was clean off, Miguel said, oh, it flew away, it's gone. Now, I was pretty skeptical, I didn't see it fly away. I thought I could still feel it. But when the alternative was stripping, I thought ok, maybe it really is gone. I tried to calm down, but I was still laughing/crying from panic and sheer embarrassment for a good while.

So, the meal ends. (I know you didn't think the story was over yet...) We go back to our room. I had not yet forgotten about this bug, and I was anxious to make sure it had indeed flown away. Miguel had confessed later that he lied, and that he hadn't seen it fly away. Shit. I got undressed with my eyes closed and asked him to check.

He laughed.

There it was, squished and plastered to my boob. Not that I saw it, my eyes were closed the whole time. He brushed it away. I cried. Then laughed. Then cried.

I hate bugs.

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