This morning, I experienced a sensation most unordinary. It wasn't morning wood, because that happens all the time. You may struggle to believe this, but I felt... good, this morning. In fact, I felt fantastic. This is impressive for someone like me, who is generally acknowledged to be the most miserable asshole on the face of the planet. Nothing could hope to stain my spirits. I woke up before my alarm, it was cold and shitty outside, then I smashed the absolute piss out of my hand on a doorknob. Normally a chain of events like that is the catalyst for hatchet murder or vehicular manslaughter, but I was much too content.
For no reason either. I don't know what it was, but I felt like grabbing my large bags of fairy dust and skipping everywhere I wanted to go, which could be anywhere. Even the moon! My elated state has even driven my parents to conclude that I'm on drugs, which could very well be possible. But the point I'm trying arduously to get to, is that my good mood in the morning caused me to drop my guard, while life was poised to strike.
Allow my well-tuned sense of humour and stunning mastery of Brobdingnagian vocabulary to gently ease you into this chronological list of immobilizing terror.
6. Gardening
It all started when my mom asked me if I could handle some gardening. What's so bad about gardening, you ask? Everything you can imagine, that's what. I'm terrified of gardening, because I fucking suck at it. I don't know anything about it. I have no idea if I'm giving these plants life or murdering them with my gay little shovels. I don't like working under pressure, and there's no immediate shortage of that when you've been ordered to do the gardening. I'm working with someone else's vision that I don't understand, and I'm expected to do a good job. The problem is that I'm all about low expectations. My mind is so gripped by fear when I'm gardening, I can't even pause to laugh at the phrase, "trim the bush".
Ok so maybe I can, but seriously, it's nerve racking. I'm also wearing these girly gloves, picking away at the dirt with my delicate tools (one is this adorable tiny rake), and gently planting lovely little flowers. It gives this inscrutable feeling of unease, like I can feel someone watching me and calling me a homosexual. The thing is, I'm not gay, so it's demeaning work. But my biggest fear while gardening, is my mom coming home, looking at the garden, letting out a little shriek, then uttering the piercing words, "we can fix this..."
I was able to narrow that down for you, because that's exactly what happened. She wouldn't even tell me what I did. She just smiled and walked inside. Why ask me to do something if you know I'm going to fuck it up? Come on! Anyway, while gardening itself is terrifying, it also lends itself to certain abuses. Such as:
5. Farmer's Tan
When you're gardening, it's common knowledge that the practice tends to take place outside. It's also fair to assume that you're doing it on a sunny day (sexual implication not intended). This means you run the risk of a farmer's tan, one that everyone will notice and earn you ceaseless mockery.
There was one year when I was a kid, where my family and I went to Hawaii and I had a nice tan. It was a glorious vacation, where on any given day, you would see me walking out of the ocean with five chicks in each arm. I was a pimp even at the tender age of 12, a time when I thought my dick was only used for urination. I was so naive. It wasn't until much later did I discover the humour in peeing on a building or in someone's pumpkin on Halloween. So perhaps I didn't learn much... Anyway, every year since then, I've rocked the farmer's tan, and every year I tell myself I won't be getting a farmer's tan. However, this year will be different. This year I'm going to bend farmer's tan over a chair and spank its ass with a meat tenderizer.
I feel like I'm disregarding my own experiences by saying that, but this year, I devised a cunning stratagem to elude any possibility of a farmer's tan. I rolled my sleeves up. This exposed my sexy muscles, and farmer's tan was soundly reduced to rubble. My glistening muscles and I laughed, until it dawned on me that while I may have bested farmer's tan, I wouldn't be able to best tan lines in general unless I took a more drastic approach. Unfortunately, it just so happens that one of my fears is:
4. Taking my shirt off
Back in the high school days, I was so sexy that I got every woman in a 10 block radius pregnant just by stepping outside. My sex life was so vigorous you'd think a fucking asteroid was heading towards earth, and I needed to celebrate every last glorious second of life by boning. My dick was invincible. It came to the point where it was difficult to fend off all the hordes of women who wanted a piece of my sexy ass. I caught a bunch on a ladder trying to pry my window open with a crowbar one night. When I went swimming on fridays, my superhuman physique even managed to attract the attention of the monstrous, frightening man who lingered in the hot tub, covertly masturbating.
What has changed over the years? Well now I'm a bitter old man who greatly exaggerates his age, and spends all his time working and doing absurd amounts of school work. I seem to have lost all the pigment in my skin, and I have a veritable forest of errant hairs on my chest. I don't have the confidence to remove my shirt anymore. What if my old ass neighbour walks outside and the sunlight reflects off my chest and blinds her? What if a crowd of attractive women are walking past my house and see me? I don't want to be judged! So until I conquer my fear, it seems that tan lines will again tragically plague my existence this year.
It was at this point where I began to wonder just how the day could possibly get worse. Which is of course when:
3. I went inside to take a break, only to realize that I'd already eaten the last Fudgsicle
Fuck!
2. Failing to jump on a shovel and falling into a tree
Self-humiliation. It's a wonderful thing. An unusual thing. A wonderfully unusual thing. It's when you manage to do something so unimaginably stupid to yourself, all by yourself, that results in extreme humiliation. It's like whenever I'm in the shower and I get shampoo in my eyes. No one but me will be aware of this for as long as I live, so I shouldn't feel bad, but no contrived rationale can convince me that I'm not an idiot.
So after planting a bunch of flowers, I was told to dig up the grass around the tree in my backyard. This is a bothersome task, because it's near impossible to dig the grass up without snapping one of the branches since the fuckers are so low to the ground and stick like a meter out of the trunk. I also found myself attempting to dig through solid roots, so it was necessary at several points to jump moderately high, and land on the shovel to drive it into the earth. I was doing this for the whole lawn, since I didn't feel like stomping on the shovel. When it came time to dig around the tree, however, I knew it would be wise to simply stomp on the shovel, since I couldn't maneuver the shovel in effectively enough for a jump.
However, when I get an idea in my head, regardless of impending, assured moral and spiritual deterioration, it's hard to stop myself. I knew that jumping on the shovel so close to the tree was a stupid idea. I knew that if I did it, that I would fall into the tree and look like an idiot. But it was too late. My brain was already convinced it was an incredible idea, before my body could stop itself. Care to take a guess as to what happened?
I was aware of what just happened. I couldn't laugh it off though. I could only sit there, wallowing in a pool of self-humiliation and ant droppings. Speaking of ants, there was something that I uncovered while digging up my yard:
1. Bugs
I must say, I'm not the biggest fan of insects. It seems that insects are aware of this as well, and do everything in their power to make my life miserable. First of all, I was digging around a tree that blossoms. What do blossoms attract? Bees, of course! What do I not enjoy having near me? Bees! Seeing a 20 year old man running away from a flying fuzzy thing the size of a dime is a sorry ass sight.
Next up on the list is worms. The most horrifying day of my life, I can sincerely remember being that day I walked home from work in the rain, and all the sidewalks, even the goddamn roads, were crawling with tens of thousands of orcs! I mean worms. That's right, millions of disgusting, writhing worms. I thought worms were taking over the fucking world. These were no rabble of mindless worms. These were Urah-Kai! Their armor was thick and their shie- sorry I'll stop this reference now. I ran the whole way home screaming. So naturally, what was the first thing I stumbled on? Why, an enormous colony of earth worms! It didn't bother me too much at first surprisingly. Then I dug up a piece of earth, and I couldn't pick up the goddamn thing with the shovel. I had to pick it up with my hands, but it was covered with worms so I couldn't. I actually got a stick and rolled that bitch to the side of my house. Like balls I'm touching that and having worms crawl under my skin to slowly eat me alive.
Speaking of the side of my house, that's where I was instructed to deposit all the pieces of sod that I was digging up, so they'd dry out faster. The only problem was, that leaning against my house were two ladders. I merely needed to move these ladders five feet over so they would be leaning against the fence, so I would have enough room for all the pieces of sod. Don't be fooled, it only sounds simple.
I knew I had to reach under the ladders to pick them up. This was a dilemma, because being that the ladders have been sitting there for ages, I knew there were going to be spiders under there, and I'm absolutely terrified of spiders. I eventually decided that it was extremely improbable for me to choose the exact spot where a giant spider would be hiding. I mean really, the odds of that are minuscule to the point of being negligible. So I picked up the ladder. I felt something strange on my hand a second after I did it. I looked down to discover an enormous spider on my hand. My immediate reaction was to shake it off. That seemed to work, until I discovered that I'd only managed to propel him onto my chest. I shrieked again, swiped him off, and I got the fuck out of there in the most embarrassing manner possible.
I returned later with a full hazmat suit, ready to move those ladders. I got the first ladder, then I picked up the second ladder. Doing so revealed an enormous colony of insects of unknown classification. I can't describe them, so I drew you a picture:
As for my other fears, I'm afraid of heights in malls, and I'm afraid of my laundry machine. Laugh all you want. Just wait until your laundry machine comes alive, rips your arm off while you're feeding it clothes then eats you alive!
... it could happen!
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