Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Millicent’s Relationship with the Insect World

Okay, so the original Millicent Frastley, before I came skipping along the scene, was a privileged, yet unfortunate child in an Edward Gorey poem who comes to an absolutely horrible end – as children often do in Edward Gorey poems. In the one about Millicent Frastley, she is kidnapped and sacrificed to The Insect God. Pretty, huh? That Edward Gorey was a hoot.

My relationship with the insect world has left me in a state that the experts would refer to as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Brought about by Bugs. Oooooh, that last part was a little alliteration. I love those. Anyway, back to bugs. I hate them. Yes, there are good ones that get rid of the bad bugs, but they all can send me pretty much reeling into a screaming state followed by catatonia and occasional moaning. I like lizards (because they eat bugs) and I have no issue with snakes, mice, et al….but bugs are bad. Very, very bad. Said bugs extend to the ocean floor, where the land equivalents of spiders, cockroaches and beetles roam about bottom feeding – or feeding on bottoms, or whatever, namely crab, shrimp and the worst offender…Lobster. I had a bad experience with lobster once where my friends went on a dive and we were to have a great big ole feed. One of the people at the party drowned them in fresh water first so she didn’t have to hear them screaming in the pot of boiling water. Gelatinous mess, probably toxic, I never went back.

Example: (And single most embarrassing moment in my life to this point) – I was eleven years old, and the school that I went to was suffering from an inexplicable infestation of blue bottle flies. I think it was due to the presence of the unholy beast passing herself off as human that taught the 5th grade. Mrs. Iron. Anyway, the school answer to the pestilence was to hang No Pest Strips in all the classrooms. Every day, the boys in the class would count the flies. Dead and Alive. They sang a little song along with their counting, but the ditty is too painful to remember now. The morning of my worst day ever had a fly count of 152. Dead and alive. Ever heard a dying fly? An intermittent buzz, followed by the futile flapping of wings.

Sooooooo, the classroom had some creative project that we were hanging from the ceiling to display for Parent Teacher night. Yours truly was standing on top a file cabinet, attaching the fruits of our labors to the ceiling. My hair at that time was down to my waist. Do you see where this is going? I think you do. Anyway, a mere two strands of hair managed to float up and stick to the No Pest Strip without my knowledge. When I jumped down from the cabinet, I heard a snap, felt something attach to my head...and start to intermittently buzz. Of course the fly paper couldn’t just lie flat on the surface of my hair. No, it had managed to work its way completely into my hair. The boy I had my first crush on was rolling on the floor laughing. I was sent to the principal’s office, who promptly called my mother and told her that she would have to shave my head. Mother came down to the school, hustled me home and through a series of scientific experiments with various solvents – paint thinner, shellac remover, fingernail polish remover, etc….the mess was finally stripped from my hair, leaving it a few shades lighter in the process. That 3M Company definitely knows how to make things stick. I finally made it back to school only to find a paper crown left upon my desk that said, “Queen Klutz.”

Tomorrow, perhaps I’ll tell you the story about the giant potato bugs in the basement.

8 Comments:

Blogger R said...

O.my.GOOOOOOOD!!! That is the sort of memory that would keep me up at night. GAve me the creepy crawlys reading it. Boys are cruel at that age. Hell, boys are just cruel at any age. I hate frogs. Stepped on one (accidentally) barefoot as a child. I see a frog and I gross out beyond the beyond. So, of course, everyone always gives me something froggy for a gift. My ex-boyfriend gave me a huge dead frog turned into a purse he got in mexico. See? Cruel.

12 January, 2005 20:23  
Blogger Laura said...

ROTFLOL!! Oh my god, I'm crying I'm laughing so hard. I can definitely see why you'd be traumatized by that. Luckily for you, you've never lived in Hollister, California, Fly Capital of the World. Something to do with all the agriculture, I suppose. And we had to have the classroom windows open all the time because there was no air conditioning. It was distracting to say the least. One time I had my student do a contest (for extra credit)..bonus points for each fly swatted, I let them go crazy for about 15 minutes running around swatting flies. It was gross, and yet strangely satisfying. Fortunately no administrators happened by, I probably would have been fired.

13 January, 2005 05:26  
Blogger Jenniy said...

LOL You poor thing! I think I would have died on the spot if that had happened to me at that age - I was so shy and sensative, it would not have been pretty.

13 January, 2005 10:42  
Blogger herodotus said...

MF-I'm not quite sure as to how should respond to your post other than to say...I can't believe Bats don't bother you. This said, I noticed that you visited our website, and posted a comment, and I wanted to say...cheers. We always welcome different views...they will be challenged...but we welcome them. Feel free to visit anytime. Your input was appreciated. I wish you well. Cheers.

13 January, 2005 22:50  
Blogger Alli said...

Dear Lord, I'm sorry you got stuck to fly paper. That sucks. I'm terribly afraid of spiders but only because they have more eyes than I do and thats just fucking WRONG!

I come to LA all the time. Lets hook up and kill bugs.

14 January, 2005 16:16  
Blogger Jilly said...

omg, I hope you don't develop post traumatic bug syndrome. I wouldn't be surprised if you did!

Thanks for your comment on my blog, the support is much appreciated.

15 January, 2005 17:41  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

OMG--I'm laughing so hard over here. No wonder you have Post Traumatic Bug Disorder! You'd hate it here--bugs everywhere. We just get used to them--there really isn't any other choice. Thanks for stopping by my place--I'll be back by here.

TW

15 January, 2005 17:48  
Blogger Rozanne said...

Did you get far enough into that lobster to encounter the "tamale," I believe it's called? It looks like something the cat would cough up if he had seaweed instead of fur. Disgusting!!!! It stopped me dead in my tracks and I've never again eaten lobster.

18 January, 2005 08:57  

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