otter party.
in Thoughts and Feelings
as analogy, appendages, bout, COME, date, everyone, everything, fall, fine, first date, hand, History, holding hands, Jess, nope, otter, otters, otters hold hands, party, point, Rat, river, sea otter, sell, sleep, snake, Snakes, someone, sound, spiders, wake
You probably already know this, but I’m a little late to the party.
The party where everyone knows that otters hold hands while they sleep so as not to drift away from each other.
Best party ever.
I mean, have you seen otters?
Already adorable.
They have that down.
But otters holding hands?
COME ON.
Otters win, why do I even try?
Even if I managed to convince someone to float down a river with me and fall asleep while doing so (which is a pretty hard sell, I think), and also hold my hand (sounds like an awesome first date, though)–
Well, I still wouldn’t be as adorable as an otter doing all of the above.
And judging from my history, I’d probably fall asleep thinking I was holding hands with an otter and wake up holding hands with a snake.
No, Jess! Impossible! Snakes have no hands.
Good point.
How bout a spider?
Could I wake up holding hands with a spider in this analogy based on my history?
Hmmm. Spiders definitely have appendages, so you’re at least closer, but they don’t have actual hands, so nope. Still impossible.
Fine.
I guess my point is just that not everything that looks like a sea otter is a sea otter.
Like, sometimes a sea otter is a rat?
Precisely.
Which is when you abruptly stop holding its hand.
And then you wait till a real otter comes along.
Sure, if you say so.
I say so.
And then I hold his hand and we don’t drift away?
Right.
Not even when the current gets rough and the water feels cold?
Not even then.
Okay, cool. And thanks.
No problem. You should come to Parties Where Everyone Knows Otters Hold Hands While Sleeping so as Not to Drift Away From Each Other more often.
Oh, I totally plan on it.
animal stories.
in Funny Stuff
as demi plie, foot, fresh as a daisy, God, I. Hate, Ian, man, MY, MY FOOT, open mic, pink tights, snake, something, squirrel, tiny children
Oh no, it’s late.
And I kind of knew this would happen.
Because, see, we went to the open mic at the Castle tonight and whenever we go there we don’t get home till real real late.
But what makes this especially unfortunate is that tomorrow morning I have to be up and at ‘em for a 9:30 am class. In which I am teaching tiny children how to dance and if that isn’t just about the worst kind of thing to be doing at that hour, then it is not late.
And it is late.
And this might surprise you about me, but I try to be honest on this here blog, so here goes: I. Hate. Teaching. Small. Children. How. To. Dance.
Seriously. I usually avoid it like the plague, but when I do find myself doing it, the minutes tick by painstakingly slow. Sometimes it seems that surely the clock must be broken–please God, tell me that it has not only been one and a half minutes since last I looked!–and would these adorable little pink-clad girlies PLEASE just stand in first position, already?!
But tomorrow morning I get to convince them to stand in first position and try to make them think that making a diamond with their little legs is a good idea, because that’s what we call a demi plie when they’re that small.
But see, I like calling a demi plie a demi plie. I like working with people who want to be there; people who can conceptualize dance and understand technique and don’t show princess underwear underneath their pink tights.
Oh, but it’ll be okay. You can do anything for four hours, right?
But there are two things I must tell you before I give myself to sleep in order to be fresh as a daisy for the littles in the morning. And both of these things involve animals. I know, this post just got so much better.
Because see, something very momentous took place tonight. To me. I was sitting at a bonfire, wearing shoes without socks that also happened to expose a good deal of my feet. Scandalous, I know. And I was wearing a whole outfit, really, but the shoes part is important, which is why I mention it. Cause all of the sudden I felt something on my foot and that something was definitely slithering. But I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, so I decided to look, and sure enough, a snake was slithering up and over my foot.
Yes.
A SNAKE WAS SLITHERING OVER MY FOOT. LIKE MY FOOT WAS GRASS OR A LOG OR MAYBE ANOTHER CREATURE, WHEN REALLY IT WAS MY FOOT, AND WHOAAAAAAAA! THAT’S DEFINITELY A SNAKE AND IT’S DEFINITELY SLITHERING OVER MY (MOSTLY!) EXPOSED FOOT.
Crazy, right?
But then I jumped because I had to, and if you don’t know why I had to, please refer to the paragraph that is all done up in caps right above. I screamed just a little and then calmly announced that a snake just slithered over my foot, but it’s okay. I added the but it’s okay part because I suddenly wanted to sound tough and not like a scaredy cat.
Then my friend Ian caught the snake and you know what happened almost immediately? He pooped. The snake, that is–not Ian. But I was suddenly really grateful because that snake could have not only just slithered over my foot–he could have slithered and pooped on my foot, too. Which would have been quite a story, I guess, but ew. gross. It’s moments like these that the provision of God is evident.
And then my other animal story takes place at the Castle. Because at the open mic there was a man dressed in a silken outfit, complete with a fancy silk vest and fancy silk shirt. And I looked over to see one of my friends do something that looked like he was stroking this man’s fancy silk sleeve, which was a little odd, but maybe warranted when you consider the silky nature of the man’s outfit. Totally, strokably silky. But then my friend kept stroking it and I suddenly realized that he was actually stroking a squirrel.
A squirrel that was laying comfortable as can be in the man’s silken lap, letting any and all humans pet it till kingdom come, apparently.
Which was strange.
But not as strange as the man getting up at the open mic to tell us the story of this squirrel and how it came to be so tame. The story goes that this man was working for a landscaping company (which further confused me, considering his silkiness) and that they noticed that a squirrel was stealing their peanuts. So they caught said squirrel, and nobody knowing what to do with it, this man took the squirrel home, killed it by severing his spine with a sharp knife in his bathtub (he graphically explained to us, much to my horror) and ate it with a red merlot sauce and mentioned something about the giblets being delicious, specifically.
And then the landscaping company employees heard some squeaking eventually–a baby squirrel calling for its mama. It’s dead mama. So, out of guilt and God knows what else, His Silkiness adopted the baby squirrel and has raised it as his own, bequeathing it with a name that is Russian and very difficult to remember.
But the nickname is Peanut, which is not nearly so difficult to remember.
So those are my animal stories. A squirrel and a snake. Not so bad in one Friday night, right?
