Okay, Internet, it's time for me to confess something to you. Some of you already know this about me, but it's time everyone knew. See, we all know I am afraid of sharks. I am also afraid of airplane takeoffs and landings, and I ain't so crazy about carnival rides.
Rides? Awesome.
Amusement parks? Awesome.
Putting my life in the hands of a carnie who just unloaded the ride off the back of a semi 10 minutes after he downed his 2nd bottle of Jack for the day? Not awesome.
In my opinion, those are not strange things to be afraid of. Here's why I'm a freak: I'm scared of mascots. Actually it's not really a fear. It's more like an overall uneasiness or a general mistrust. I hate when they come by me and touch me and look at me with their vacant stare without saying one word. And they always have to have a non-dressed up friend with them to guide them toward people because they can't effing see. Every time they get near me my heart starts to race and anxiety wells up inside of me. When they try to "talk" to me (stare creepily), well, I just can't think of a less comfortable situation.
When I was a freshman in college I went to this party, and a cute junior was hitting on me (obviously), and his buddy came up, put his arm around him and said, "Hey did you know my buddy here is Tomahawk." Tomahawk was our university's mascot for the first 2 years I was there. Immediately I was like, "Um...I have to go."
God just get away from me. I just want to watch the game or I just want to eat my food (Red Robin) or I just want to ride the goddamn Space Mountain, Mickey Mouse, so get off my back!! I don't want my picture with you, and I don't want to hug you, and I don't want free stuff from you. And just stop waving! Stop it!
Earlier this week we had a red alert as I walked into the food court and saw Slider standing there. I stopped in my tracks. Derek watched carefully for a chance for me to get by. It got hairy when we ran for the escalator, and Slider was about 3 feet away. For a moment it looked like he was going to turn around and stare at me silently (but deadly), but we were too fast for that fat piece of creepy crap and made it upstairs unscathed.
So now you know. I'm a huge freak. I'm glad we had this talk. Now stop judging me and start judging Danielle who hates when people take the top off of yogurt or pudding and then lick it. I mean, what's that about?
P.S. This is just unnecessary.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
My confession
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10 comments:
When danielle has her halloween party, I am totally dressing up like that shark.
Did you ever see that MTV special about those creepy people that dress up as mascot type creatures and go to conventions to hook up with each other in those costumes? They get turned on by whatever animal/thing they dress up as. I think they're called furries or fuzzies or something. Talk about freaks!
Can we add clowns and mimes to the list, too?
Kara - that's just so wrong. so very wrong.
Johnny - keep kara's comment in mind when you rent that shark costume...
Plushies. The word you're looking for is Plushies.
Now about that shark costume..
I'm going to Danielle's party as a giant tongue licking a foil, peel-off top.
The only time you have to be afraid of sharks is when your in their MOUTH!!! Yum!!!
I'm glad we had this talk as well, hopefully you learned not to, aren't mascots real?
How can you not lick the foil top? It has all that yogurt-y goodness on it!
Thanks for the link and your comments! I am adding you as well. I too have a fear of sharks and airplane take-offs. I also have what is called geriatrattackocondritis, which is a fear of old people coming out of nowhere and beating you severely.
Ha! You're funny! I have a friend who's afraid of claymation and puppets. . . oh, and I used to dress up like a bear as volunteer work. It creepy being on the inside as well.
hey you wanna know what else is creepy for danielle, whistlers. it's usually older men that whistle really loud and really strong and it really creeps me out and i think these men could've been carnies when they were younger. or just child molesters.
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