October 28, 2008

The Frogs, Always the Frogs

There is a line between sanity and a 3 day stay in a room with stainless steel mirrors and nurses who speak in hushed tones…and the frogs are pushing me. As you may know, I am not so in love with bugs, frogs, snakes, things of that nature; and ever since T.S. Fay we have been inundated with ma-fackels that can hop.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.

I have gotten used to the lizards, I recovered from the Jiminy Cricket incident, but living in the Groundhog Day version of the rain scene from Magnolia is nudging me toward the edge. This week alone three frogs and been captured, by Wayne of course while I hid in the bathroom, and released into my neighbor’s yard.

Two weeks ago a frog jumped on our guest's breasts as she tried to enter our home. The worst part was when she tried to bat it away it jumped on her mouth. After that I had to give her the good liquor from the back of the cabinet.

Last week while walking the dog, a frog hitched a ride on my lounge wear. The only thing that saved me from a rubber room is that I did not notice him until he jumped off and went behind our four thousand pound entertainment stand, where he may be for eternity because if we ever sell the house the stand stays.

I like nature, really I do, as long as it is not slimy and in my hair or on my freakin night gown. Seriously frogs you got no beef with me so back off.

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