You know that commercial for Mentos, where the girl comes up to the guy and DRINKS OUT OF HIS NOSE or his MOUTH or something? GULPING from his FACE? That commercial is horrible, and when it starts I have to turn my head because it makes me gag. It makes me physically gag, and it is all I can do to keep from begging my husband to turn off the tv or throw the remote into the screen. I’m getting nauseous thinking about it, just THINKING about it, and I’ve never even seen it all the way through because of the gagging/head turning.
I had to share that, in case you hadn’t thrown up into your mouth a little bit today.
You’re WELCOME.
I’ll move on, because there’s nothing else to do after that.
Friday question time!
If there is a tornado warning, do you scurry to the lowest, safest place or go to the front porch to watch? What television shows do you watch that you are embarrassed to admit that you watch? Or SHOULD be embarrassed to admit? The last time you encountered a spider, what did you do? What was the nicest thing somebody did for you this week? And, finally, what questions would you like to ask me, or would you like to have asked? Maybe I’ll work them in some Friday in the future.
My answers!
When I was little, I was pretty terrified of tornadoes. My kindergarten teacher explained that tornadoes happened when cold air hits hot air, so I remember standing outside a lot, holding out my hands to see if one felt cold and the other felt hot. I would have nightmares about them, we had a lot of tornado drills at school, my grandmother explained the difference between warnings and watches. She watched us when we were five, when our half day of kindergarten was over, and I would sit on the spare room bed, trying to nap as she instructed. Instead I would hear lawnmowers in the distance and wonder if the noise was a tornado, coming to sneak around the side of the house and into the window.
At some point that changed, the fears fell off a bit. As I got older I started wanting to stay upstairs with my dad during tornado watches and warnings, to watch the storms blow over. I started going outside with him, and my mom would shoo us back into the basement, and when the weather got tornado-y, threaten to make us sleep in the basement just in case. Maybe it was in college that the last shred of fear left, when my entire dorm (eight floors, I’ve no idea how many students) had to cram into the basement floor (one laundry room, one small kitchenette, a crowded staircase, a bathroom) during a very, very long tornado warning. I remember having a panic attack, and somehow getting into the bathroom where a few other people were having panic attacks because of all the flesh pressing in, the smell of sweat, the loud yelling and laughing. I squeezed behind the bathroom door and felt like I was dying.
I’ve seen two tornadoes forming in my life, once from a distance, a very far distance. Once, four years ago or so, standing in the field by my parents’ house. My dad stood outside with me (my mom hovered near the house before going to the basement) and we watched the giant clouds in the distance (it felt close enough at the time) slowly swirl down, forming the cone shape, a big messy finger inching down from the sky to the earth. We watched where it was heading, and then called my uncle to tell them it was going in their direction. It was awful and beautiful (and I know, stupid), but I’m glad I stood in that field with the green-yellow sky and watched with my dad. It satisfied a deep curiousity and wildness, and now I am content to wait out tornado stuff in a basement.
I’m embarrassed to admit that I watch the following shows on an occasional basis while doing things on the computer: Flavor of Love, Celebracadabra (or whatever the heck it is), and Hell’s Kitchen. They are guilty pleasures, if a guilty pleasure can involve cringing a lot and wishing I wasn’t actually watching something. And then continuing to watch it, for more than one season.
The last time I saw a spider, it was very small and in the basement in my studio, and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything to it. I left it alone. It was so tiny. I dislike killing spiders, because when they are tiny I feel guilty, and when they are large I feel guilty AND it might make a CRUNCHING noise, which is horrible on all levels.
I think the nicest thing(s) anybody did for me this week were these: my husband took care of all the meals; he did a ton of the dogs’ potty trips alone; he forced me to drink a glass of lemonade because he was worried about my vitamin C intake and we had no orange juice–even standing and making sure I finished the entire glass, which was funny; one night when he got into bed he kissed me and in my sleepy happiness it made me feel very special and very loved. Also, he’s putting hilarious quotes on the dry erase board upstairs, and it brightens my day, to check it. ALSO, he’s watered the flowers we planted every single day. Also, he vacuumed, and tried to find me a special type of apple that I requested for a long time at our least favorite store. These were all wonderful things, because this week was icky, I felt awful, and I was exhausted. I’m a lucky lady.
I don’t know what you want to ask me, so, it’s your turn! Go! Go! Go!
Love,
black sheeped
