More Nasty Habits
From a Certain Person, source of all things gross:
PITY THE POOR EYEBROW MITE
They live in your eyebrows and lashes, subsisting on your skin oil. (I question their effectiveness, since you’d think I wouldn’t need specialized skincare products otherwise.) They come out while you sleep to mate (and presumably to party with the dust mites in your pillow). But what’s the worst thing about being an eyebrow mite? (Is there any good thing about being one, really?) THEY LACK AN ANUS. Therefore, they spend their lives getting, well, more and more full of it, and eventually die and burst. On your face.
BUT YOU KNOW WHAT’S EVEN WORSE?
Well, maybe not, since these don’t bother us. But there’s another kind of parasite, called informally, I believe, twisted-wing wasps, in which the female has no eyes, wings or legs, but needs none because she spends her days with one end or the other sticking out from under the scales of a bee, wasp, or ant. Eventually she gets full of eggs, which hatch and EAT THEIR WAY OUT FROM THE INSIDE, and start life’s rich pageant all over again. As if all that wasn’t hellish enough, they frequently DRIVE THEIR HOSTS INSANE (well, wouldn’t you be, under the circumstances?) and make them engage in self-destructive behavior, like climbing up to exposed areas to get the attention of predators that the parasites can move on to.
I must add, in all fairness (well, in some fairness), that I didn’t get that last paragraph of information from a Certain Person, but from Richard Dawkins. Yes, I’m wearing a crucifix, and yes, I’m reading his “God Delusion” book. #dontaskmequestions
I LOVE HASHTAGS! AND I’M NOT EVEN ON TWITTER!
How did they come up with 140 characters, anyway? Why not go for broke and make it 150?
WHAT ELSE IS NASTY AND BRUTISH? OH RIGHT, NICK.
I encountered him and his minion Sam (as he maintains), and he was freshly caparisoned with his BRAND-NEW TASER, of which he is very proud. (As he should be, since they only recently decreed him mature enough to carry one.) He demonstrated his commendable self-control by biting his lip to keep from trying this taser out on me. (The joke was on him, since his teeth are very sharp.) Then they got a run, and as always, he badgered me to ride along with them, claiming it would be something he called “fun,” and I reminded him I will never agree to that, however many implements of destruction he acquires in the course of his career.
While we’re on this unlovely topic and I’ve got your attention (“Huh? What?” they say, still preoccupied with parasitic wasps)…
JUDGE BETWEEN US, WOULDJA?
The other night when I worked with Nick, he spent the last half of a slow shift trying to get me to laugh on the air, and finally succeeded. Once. Sam then informed me that this caused him to spend two minutes helplessly laughing in the car. So I won, right?