So cicadas. Yeah. Do you have them? Because we do and they are seriously terrifying on a biblical river of blood, ten plagues kind of way. They make this horrifically loud noise, thousands of them all at once and then suddenly shut up. All at once. They are also roughly the size of a VW bug. Okay, maybe that might be a slight exaggeration but they are big and horrible. Clearly, along with clowns, they are the work of Satan.
Seriously? This is smaller than actual size:
A mere two months ago Jen B. Shaw was nearly MURDERED IN HER CAR by cicadas. I mean, really. They have no shame! So anyway, today I was headed out to see some of my best East Coast gals at the Disney Summer Social, and you know that means I got all kinds of fancy. Like, I bathed and wore pants that zip and button and everything! It was just like the old days when I would go out clubbing except there was far less glitter and platform heels and far more toddler tv shows happening in order to you know, bathe.
I decided to go whole hog for this event and dust off my curling iron. And I mean that literally. I had to dust it off, it’s been that long since it was used! There I am jamming away to Simon and Garfunkel’s Only Living Boy in New York (because I rock hard like that) and suddenly I hear the chirping. I freeze. It’s not outside…it’s in the room with me! Do I run from the room or try to find it? It’s so loud and the chips are echoing thoughout the bathroom. I think it’s over in the corner between the shelf and the bathtub…I man up and take a peek. As soon as I get close it stops.
I decide to be a big girl and just curl my hair and head on out to “The big Mickey party” as the Boss had been calling it. There I stand, harmonizing with rocking vocals of S&G when the mutherf^&**())(*^&^ cicada FLIES AT MY HEAD.
I’ll give you a minute to absorb what I just told you.
You breathing okay?
Obviously I drop the hot curling iron-somehow escaping without a burn- and race from the loo screaming like a three year old being forced to put on shoes. Oh. my. gawd.
After I drank a gallon of vodka I had enough courage to go back in. Coffee of course being the morning vodka of moms. I heard nothing. I thought I was safe. I started getting ready again. The evil cicada launched it second attack at my head. I dropped the curling iron again, this time it landed into the sink as I flattened myself against the wall.
And then the little sucker made a mistake. Instead of attacking me, it headed for the curling iron. The very hot curling iron.
Rest in peace you fried evil flying monster.
Now I need a new curling iron.
This week we’ve had an earthquake, flying pestilence and now we prep for a hurricane. With my in-laws. Because we live with them. I must really love my husband.