Friday, 14 October 2016


When was the last time you squealed like a piss poor girlie actor in B Grade movie? You know, that hand over your mouth and a throat scoring scream with an after taste of adrenaline?

I reckon that most of the time I am not a girlie girlie. I didn't like playing with dolls tho I did enjoy designing clothes and chopping off the hair of any Barbie that came too close, and if I was given the choice between tea parties and rough housing in a field, then the great outdoors was always a winner. I happily - well not really happily, but needs must and all that, climbed onto my roof and slopped shit around to cure leaks and prepared and laid many many square metres of paving. I have never shied away from doing the 'Boy's' jobs cos well for most of my adult life I was the bloke as well as the girlie.

I am not notably afraid of too much stuff though I will admit that I spend quite a lot of time watching 'Criminal Minds' from behind my hands or with my eyes closed. Redback spiders are no match for a pair of thongs slapped together to smear those bastards, but I am not fond of snakes. In fact I am probably OK with just about anything, anything that is, that is in full view. I don't like the creeping up on ya shit, cos that does scare the crap outta me.

Last night I made my way upstairs for a shower. It was dark. I saw a fat shadow skitter across the wall high up near the ceiling and knew that it was just a friendly old gecko.  I am not afraid of of these fellas. They do a damn fine job of chomping up most of those annoying little buggers - mozzies and midges I mean, cos even a gecko is no match for those religion touting fools who sometimes knock. The Big House is home to a good number of gecko families who sing loudly to let us know that they are at work.

Having said all that, I do like to know where they are, so I turned a light on so he knew where I was, and I stood back and let him scurry, along one wall, across the top of my door, and along the top of the wall coming back towards me, and then I reckon the poor fella saw me and shit himself and lost traction on the wall and fell with a loud splat onto the floor.

The noise scared me. I squealed like a child. Stevie's legs did that cartoon running action. He yelled. I laughed. He thought there must have been an intruder in the house. We were all relieved when the intruder was just a lovely gecko. The 'squeal taste' took longer to abate, especially when I went into the bathroom to be confronted by the giant black brown moth who has been living there for a while now.  Of course it does no harm but I would so like it to find somewhere else to live and to that end I had left all the windows opened in the morning so it could fly out into the big wide world. It clearly likes my room. Ho Hum.  But I didn't want it flying at me in all my nakedity and do any more scaring. It sat high on the wall and I kept an eye on it and then forgot about it. Who the fuck knows where it is now. Ho hum.

There is a limit to how much adrenaline can be processed in a day.

And it seems that I am more flight than fight these days. Well that might well have always been the case. I am remembering a wet, towel clad, skinny woman racing out into the street to ask the delivery man dropping something next door, if he could come and help me with a ..... wait for it....a grasshopper! IN MY BEDROOM!  Yeh, well it was the size of a small bird! Anyway I reckon he figured all his chrismases had come at once until that was, I showed him to the bedroom, pointed to the hopper bastard and then hid behind the door, I mean I was a lunatic about the insect, but certainly loud enough to bark instructions through a bit of wood.

Well the grasshopper didn't like the look of the guy apparently and so hopped behind the wardrobe. Matey boy thought he'd call it a day, until I yelled to move the wardrobe and kill that sucker. He was trying to catch it and let it free outside. I am yelling like a towel draped banshee, 'Kill it. Kill it.' He finally did get a hold of the fucker and then he and the hopper scurried away, both very happy to have made their escape from the nut house.

Oh and I don't like birds, they scare me too. Oh shit it seems I am not the Zena warrior I'd like to be. Bugger!

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