It’s a time of inexplicable ‘almost’ hatred. An object or a creature stands in front of you. It mocks you. You have never encountered this thing before – or have – and yet you can’t explain your desire to stab it with a rusty spoon or put it in a blender. It’s like coming home to discover that your wife has completely redecorated the bedroom with floral wallpaper and pictures of kittens that match the hand-sewn kittens on the throw-pillows. And then you find out that the fucking kittens on the walls are a hologram, like those 3D rulers from the 90’s; they close their eyes and wet their little noses to the point where it’s too adorable not to punch them in the face and file for a divorce so you don’t go on a murderous rampage in your sleep.
Tacky floral rooms are only one of the several things on my list that inexplicably anger me or scare the shit of out me, along with terrible Christmas sweaters. Some legitimately scare me, but others are just annoying little knickknacks originally marketed for the sole purpose of making the tacky-floral-fan housewife believe she needs something else to accentuate the holiday spirit. For every. Single. Fucking. Occasion. I won’t burden you with reading all 1,265,294,646.32674 things that bother me on a daily basis, (okay, I lied. That number is closer to 20.) so these are the objects/animals/things from children’s nightmares that make my top five:
This is a story about the first and last time I ever ran around the park near my house. You see, I though it would be a good idea to switch up my morning job routine and check out the running track (which is just a 1/4 mile curvy slab of concrete that goes around a pond so disgustingly green, that the creature from the black lagoon himself wouldn’t call it home) at a nearby park. I thought it would be an idyllic Sunday: parents hogging the gazebos and picnic tables for their kid’s birthday party; teenage couples awkwardly making out on the swing set; dogs pooping on the walkways. It thought it was going to be a beautiful Sunday, one where people were too involved in their own lives to care about a woman wearing a gigantic metal knee brace desperately trying to run a mile.
My day was ruined. Not by a person, but by an animal. An animal that is supposed to represent beauty and poise -they made a ballet after it, for god’s sake. There were TWO swans, not swimming in the water like normal swans, but strutting around on the concrete running path, swaddling like they were trying to hide a “gat” beneath their feathers and ready to go on a homicidal rampage. I’m running along, coming around the corner when the swans decide to cross my path. They immediately stop in their tracks, lower their heads and – I shit you not – rub their feet against the ground like a bull ready to charge the matador. Their wings start flapping, their vocal chords start squawking, and they charge at me, trying to nip at my legs as I run in the other direction. Every squawk started to sound like a loud POP from a 9mm Glock. Those gangster swans were trying to kill me for stepping into their “turf”. I wanted to say, “Bitch, you don’t own this park. The city does, so stop squatting and get your own pond…bitch” but I cried instead.
4. Giant Sunflowers
This picture alone makes my skin crawl. I have no idea what it is about giant sunflowers that make me want to cower in a corner and sheepishly bat them away with my purse. I’ll eat their seeds all day long because they are fucking delicious, but anything that has the potential to mutate in the science fiction world and devour my face…no, fuck that shit. I’ve seen Little Shop of Horrors. Who says that a sunflower won’t lose its shit and start eating people? No one. (Oddly, I think venus fly traps are the most adorable things in the world and I want a garden of them. A big garden.)
Giant sun flowers are freaks of nature. Just look at the big black gaping abyss in the center of the photo there. That is where hopes and dreams go to die. I can see it breathing. Doesn’t it look like it’s breathing? It’s the Jeffrey Dahmer of sunflowers. Run away, little boy, run away! I have nightmares of people dancing around my bedroom holding those monstrous things like it was some ancient ritual. They tell me there are there to sacrifice me to the sunflower god so he’ll continue to produce sunlight and then they smother me in pollen and seeds.
Fuck. Giant. Sunflowers.
3. Snow Globes
Snow globes – also known as water globes, snow storms, and snow domes – were created by the devil. “But when you shake them, the snow looks so pretty”. No, fuck you. How do you think the little people living in those little houses feel every time you decide to fuck their shit up because you want to see a pretty snowstorm? Have you ever considered that maybe there are little people living in those houses in another dimension and your sadism is turning their little town into the San Francisco circa 1906? Oh, your snow globe has a picture of your one-year-old instead? Why would you put a picture of your baby inside of a snow globe? You shake snow globes! You are shaking your baby in a snow globe! Why are you a parent?!
The dangers and hidden evil of snow globes are accurately portrayed in the Dr. Who episode, “Attack of the Snowmen”, where people get trapped in a snow globe filled with fake snow that shouldn’t exist on earth and evil snowmen with pointy teeth terrorize the public. Even though they look like claymation characters from an original Tim Burton film, those snowmen are anything but cute and musically talented. The Dr. Who writers know exactly how I feel when I gaze into the inner working of a snow globe; they make a wonderful substitute for orange skeet shooting clays.
If it can’t pass through TSA, you probably shouldn’t own one. Don’t even get me started on the ones that play music…
Fuck. Snow. Globes.
As I write this part of my post, my Chrome browser window is un-maximized and pushed off to the right hand of the screen so I can’t see the picture of the most terrifying clown ever known to exist. Even now, I can feel it staring at me through computer monitor oblivion and I’m terrified that it will find a way to move the window back to center screen.
Okay, I need to delete the photo for a few minutes.
I love Stephen King. I love his stories, I love his writing styles, but fuck him for writing “It”. Like most of my hatreds/fears, I can’t explain this one. I’m not sure where my fear of clowns comes from exactly, but it probably has to do with too many family trips to Vegas and stays in Circus Circus as a kid. Clowns are just not nice creatures and, unfortunately, kids these days just don’t care about balloon animals anymore. Maybe that’s why Stephen King wrote “It”; discovering a demented clown watching you from the sewer drain makes you care. And crap your pants.
My boyfriend thinks it hilarious that I am afraid of clowns. He’ll pull up pictures of scary clowns on his phone and say, “hey, look at this picture I found on The Chive”. It’s never a photo-bomb picture or of a girl with duck-lips and for some reason I fall for it every time. No wonder I have trust issues. This past October we went to Knott’s Scary Farm with a few friends. About an hour or so after we got there, we happened to walk through the part of the theme park where the scary clowns like to hang out. He had the BRILLIANT idea to walk up to the clown on stilts and tell him to chase after me. Now, I didn’t run away. I just pretended it wasn’t there. However, the other girl who was there started to freak out. She grabbed my arm, digging her nails into it and pulled me along with her as she attempted to run away. So, not only was my boyfriend and her boyfriend maniacally laughing at all of this, I was hoping that my knee wouldn’t dislocate if the other girl decided to pivot or cut around a corner suddenly. (I’ve had knee problems since I was 16 and, unknown to me at the time, I did not have an ACL in my right knee, but I knew it liked to dislocate.) I thought to myself, “This bitch is going to send me to the hospital”. I blame her as well for my near heart-attack.
Now I’m going to put the photo back and quickly scroll down so I can finish this post.
They sting. They get up all in your shit. And some of them can kill you. If someone offered me a million dollars to have my body covered in bees, I would turn them down and then sue them for a million dollars do to the psychological damage they inflicted on me. Nothing good comes from swarms of bees.
Fuck. Bees. Go back to your giant sunflowers where you beelong. (Pun intended.)
Can someone tell me one of their fears/something they irrationally hate so I don’t feel so much like a lame-ass anymore?