So. Today I went outside.
Now, it’s not like I don’t go outside. But I don’t. And I don’t for a reason.
I feel like I need to explain this because I’m not like this guy:
I go outside when it is necessary, but I don’t go outside to be outside. It’s not that I dislike it, it’s that I’m so pale I’m translucent. Thanks to my genetics, I’m a northern European byproduct without a hope in hell of attaining any color. Blame it on my Irish heritage, my French, my Canadian, my German… but I can’t tan. I literally cannot tan. It is physically impossible.
Today was my last day of freedom before I start working full time, so I wanted to enjoy it. I went outside to observe some work being done by my parents in the garden and was then swarmed by ants. Not the little ones, the huge ones. Like this:
My father had found a giant nest of them underneath a tarp we had in the garden so I was chuckling darkly while vaulting taunts in his direction. That was until I felt something on my leg. I promptly convulsed while screaming that the ant gods were angry and demanding a blood sacrifice to atone for the destruction of their homeland. The ant gods were mildly disappointed today, but I feel them plotting my destruction. I am the last of my line, so with my death they would be properly avenged. You know… I’d die in a haze of blinding pain and disgrace for not reproducing sooner. Fitting.
Maybe I’ll throw some
poison tribute their way tomorrow.
Anyway, I wanted to bathe in nature so I decided I was going to get my nook (Game of Thrones Book 5!) and soak up some of the sun. But of course, only a little sun because I roast better than a turkey. Tell me please, someone, anyone… how after a half hour I am Her Majesty, First of Her Name, Slayer of Ants, Fire Roasted, Queen Katie of the Boiled Lobster People.
This is so not cool. I’m red and white striped and that look is only good on candy canes. I can’t look like a freak on my first day of work. I can’t. I just can’t. Damn it all to hell and pass the lotion please.
Her highness commands it.