Shark Regrested Waters

Very early this morning I dreamt that one of my sisters-in-law had been eaten by a shark. And in the nightmare (morningmare?) I was devastated. I love all of my In-laws (I know, I'm lucky), so I would be devastated if any of them had been eaten. I was pissed and throwing a temper tantrum that a shark ate her and my yelling at the Pacific Ocean startled me awake.

Will had gotten up earlier and wasn't present for me bitching out a body of water.

After I screamed myself awake (which I do a little too often), had some coffee and took my vitamins, I opened the palm of my other hand and realized that I hadn't swallowed my vitamins because they were still sitting in my hand. But rather a pebble that I had found on the floor in the bedroom and was intending on throwing outside. Actually, pebble is too nice a word, it was more like gravel.

So, after feeling a little nauseous about swallowing a piece of gravel and then momentarily wondering if it was going to come flying out of my hole tomorrow morning like a beebee, puncturing a small hole in the bottom of the toilet, or maybe I'd get lucky and fart out a diamond, I realized that I wasn't nauseous about the gravel. I was nauseous because my left ball had gotten crunched.

I don't know how it got crunched, but it felt crunched. Maybe when the shark attacked my sister-in-law, he slipped me the fin and copped a feel on my privs and you know, being a shark he wasn't going to be all tender and caress my scrotum. So, maybe he was a little rough.

For those of you who have labia, when balls get crunched, it produces a nauseous feeling (in case you didn't know). For any hermaphrodites reading this, well...I don't really know what to say. Hi...I suppose. That'd be a good place to start. And wow. "Wow" is probably a good thing to say too. So, hi and wow. Umm...well, being a hermaphrodite, you probably know what quite a bit feels like. And basically, if I had a penis AND a vagina? I'd be doing myself 24/7. Although, that probably means that I'd have perpetually crunched balls. Because, you know...they'd be between my peep and vagina getting all in the way of the action.

But not only have I digressed, I've regressed. Surprise.

I have quite a few tags to catch up on and I promise that I will.

Mamma Loves had tagged me with 5 weird things about me. Or 6 things you don't know about me. Or...I don't know...I did 6 weird things you don't know about me.

So, here goes:

1. I could easily fall into a fullblown Obsessive/Compulsive/Psycho Disorder if I allow myself. Most nights I have to check the door to see if it's locked at least 3 times. The garage door at least twice. I know that they're shut and locked, but most of the time I can't stop from checking. I'm getting better. No, I'm not. Yes, I am. NO I'M NOT! Okay, okay...jeez.

2. After working out I have to sniff my armpits...more than once. Sometimes multiple times. At least I don't lick them. Although...that just gave me an idea.

3. Suicide crosses my mind on a daily basis. Until I have a cup of coffee. If the world runs out of coffee, you can find me at the nearest bridge, which will be helpful if it's over 60 feet high. Maiming myself would NOT help matters. If you happen to be walking by, feel free to give me a push, I'll appreciate it. I'm too arrogant, idealistic and chicken-shit (redundant, I know) to actually do it myself.

4. My hands sweat. Not all the time, but much of the time. And I don't mean that they perspire. They sweat. In college I used to have to take a towel to class with me. It used to be REALLY embarrassing and I used to just dread shaking people's hands. I didn't dread shaking people, just their hands. They'd curl their lip and grimace like they just grabbed a slimy carp. Yeah, that did a lot for my self-esteem. Now I just don't care that much. I try to wipe my hand off quickly if I'm going to be shaking hands or healing people by smacking them on the forehead, but if I can't? Ehh. I tell them to consider it Organic Spritz and I apologize for it not smelling like lavender.

5. I have a fear of my zipper being down in public. I check often. I'm not afraid of my wanker and balls being seen. But rather, of tripping. I don't want to trip. And I don't want to trip other people with my penis either. I just don't think that's very nice. It's not that it hurts, mind you, if someone trips over it. What hurts is when someone drives over it.

6. I trim the hair in my crack with clippers because I don't particularly fancy shitting through a wig. How do I know when it's time to trim again? When my crack starts to itch like a crazy fucker. Yeah, that's fun in public when my crack lets me know.