i just now, just this second- give or take an hour or two- did the most manly thing i've ever done. i killed a bug with my bare hand. not only did i kill a bug with my bare hand, i killed a bug with my bare hand and let out an exultant YES! as the bug guts squished against my palm.
this is not typical oline behavior. i dislike palms, guts, bugs and the word squish. and admitedly the manliness of the deed was somewhat diminished by the fact that the victim was a standard, run-of-the-mill fly.
you may remember Colette The Fly (and this may not have actually been Colette The Fly, but we're going to pretend it was to avoid the thought that le petit maison de Oh!-'Lighn is, in reality, a fly hostel). Colette The Fly moved in with the vieve and i some months ago. she most often acted as a pesky bit of black dust.
being too posh to play bug patrol, the vieve would smell her and blithely walk away. Colette The Fly and i were cool. she stayed away from me and i stayed away from her. until two days ago, when Colette The Fly went vinegar.
she began buzzing about frantically. not just buzzing, but BUZZZZZZZING. like the scene in honey, i shrunk the kids where they're tormented by ginormo bugs. i began to think Colette The Fly was much larger than she appeared. that my contact prescription was wrong. that i was high on pumpkin candle fumes.
unfortunately for Colette The Fly, her sudden propensity for boistrous buzzing excited my wrath while her history of lassitude worked to my advantage. after a day and a half of misses, i got her. and it felt good and i liked it. and i stood there reveling in my newfound manliness for a moment.
a moment in which a strand of raven hair fell from my silly head and tickled it's way down my arm, in much the manner of an eight-legged monster. immediately i forgot my manliness and shrieked like a little girl.