Sunday, April 3, 2011

What? They're scary!

Few things truly terrify me. For instance:

Aliens scared the hell out of me when I was younger. And even now I'm a little uneasy outside alone when it's dark. But even if there are a few of them trying to take you to their ship, they're supposedly skinny as a bean pole and stand about 3 1/2 feet tall. Doesn't sound like something a swift kick can't take care of.

But they aren't the only scary thing around. How about these:

If you know me at all, you'll know how terrifying that was for me to search for a picture and have hundreds of them come up. Some people call them bees. I call them "winged spawns of Satan". Bees serve no purpose other than to sting. Wind, butterflies, and hummingbirds can pollinate flowers just fine. And why can't honey be produced in a level 4 containment lab where there is little to no chance of a bee escaping? I'm just saying.

And yet another thing that I find scary:

Pillsbury rolls are delicious. The buttermilk ones are heaven when coupled with sausage gravy. The crescent rolls? Orgasmic. But why, for the love of all things holy, do they have to put them in those god damn highly pressurized containers? This is one of the things I grapple with often: I want the prize inside the package, yet am terrified to open them. I'm convinced that every time I go to open these things they are gonna not pop open nicely, but completely explode and take my hand with 'em. But now having to deal with them for many moons, I have come up with a system that works relatively well.

First, I get my heart rate back down to normal using Buddhist breathing techniques. Then I peel the very first bit of the roll. If at this point I feel the slightest vibration or shifting of contents indicating explosion is imminent, I hurl the package as far as possible and dive behind the couch. If however I get that first bit undone and everything remains calm, I proceed to the next step. I hold the container at arms length and begin to shake the whole thing so that gravity starts peeling the rest of it off. Once it is completely peeled, I let it fall on the counter from a bit of a distance and jump back. Usually this results in it popping open, however sometimes it doesn't. When the latter happens, I fight back tears knowing I will have to engage in hand to hand combat with the beast. I usually opt for a weapon at this point. The preferred instrument?

That's right. A 50 lb maul. I figure it splits wood no problem and can pulverize concrete with ease, surely it can make a little paper thin cardboard package container it's bitch. However Elli always vetoes the maul since she's concerned more about her "flooring" and "counters" than my safety, so alas I must find another tool. Defeated, I return the maul and pick up a wife approved device:

Fuck off. It's the heaviest thing I'm allowed to use in this case. And it's end loaded nicely so I get incredible swing speed. So, finally armed I go on the attack. I creep up to where the ticking bomb is resting, careful not to make heavy footsteps which would cause jostling and set the package off, and in one swift motion strike from above, aiming for the seals of the exposed paper innards. At the moment of impact I close my eyes so as not to be injured by the flying debris caused by the pressure release of opening. Sometime I must strike up to 3 times, but most times only one is needed. When it does finally split open, I feel like I truly conquered something. Sadly, few other in the house appreciate my accomplishment. Elli rolls her eyes and Dav just looks and then goes back to his playing. Hannah normally has crabby time going on around dinner, so she's selfishly ignoring me anyhow.

I then have to sit down until I'm done shaking. The biscuits always taste sweeter knowing the hell I had to go through to get them.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Site Meter