I was so sure that the county fair would be where I would fall in love with my new pet pig. That I would have my Wilbur the pig moment and Husband would fold and I would be driving home from the fair with my new best friend. "Careful. They smell funny.” my friend said. “Their skin is really rough.” my other friend said. "There's no way in hell we’re getting a pig." Husband said. But I was determined. I was set in my mind. I was getting a pig. This is a picture of me at the fair on Friday. I was so excited to see this guy right as we walked in the gate; I made Husband take a picture. I was sure it was an omen, a cute pink talisman of what was to come. I was wrong. About the cute pink part. This is me petting actual pigs! SO EXCITED!!! Note the stupid expression on my face as I try to have a moment with the pigs that are fast asleep and trying to pretend I’m not there. I’m telling Husband that their skin feels a bit like elephant skin. Note that despite my attempts to have them fall in love with me, there is not one eye open and the ears only twitched when I tickled them. Also note that there are only three pictures because Husband was having none of my obsession and was trying to leave the stall. Then I found this speckled guy and I was sure it was love. Note the expression of pure bliss on my face, the absolute joy as I realize I’ve met my animal sole mate. Now note the speckle right next to my hand - that is not a speckle at all but actually a tick. That speckle was one of five – FIVE TICKS - on my smelly sole mates tummy. FIVE TICKS that I spotted before I jumped up and started doing the "Get them off me!" dance.
Note that there are not any pictures of my freaking out once I spotted said ticks but you can just imagine my smile turning to clenched teeth holding back the squeal as I quick got myself up off the ground and began the inevitable tick check. You can imagine the large amounts of hand sanitizer I squirted over my hands – and arms and face. I only didn’t spread it ALL OVER my body because people were watching and I was trying to be cool in front of the young 4H kids who obviously would have prevented my pig ownership. I mean I’m still doing tick checks three days later. I’d like to lodge a formal complaint to the author of Charlotte’s Web. Not once in that heartwarming story about a pig and his spider friend were ticks mentioned. Not. One. Time. I feel this tick omission has done me - and my pig owning fantasy - a great disservice. I mean how many years did I imagine myself as Fern in that story, loving and caring for Wilbur for the rest of my days? Apparently too many years. The county fair is where dreams die, not just Charlotte the spider. If you want me, I’ll be in the shower - again - washing invisible ticks down the drain with my pig owning dreams and my "That chick is so cool" status. I mean, I can do poop and weird smells and kids that pull their penises out in class but I do not do ticks. And, apparently, I won't be owning pigs either. Sigh.
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AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
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