There are some things I don’t think I’ll ever understand… and I’m not talking about Physics, Calculus or the like. The biggest one? I have this insane fear of moths.
Words cannot describe the amount of fear they strike in me. And it’s not even like a fear of something legitimate.
Snakes? Those fuckers are frightening, poisonous and they attack.
Quads? They’re instant death and go a million miles an hour.
Megan Fox’s hotness? Scary for its untouchability (unless you’re the ridiculously lucky Brian Austin Green… which still makes little to no sense in my mind).
But moths? I’m embarrassed just to admit it. It’s a childhood thing (I think my mother gave it to me at birth) but if I see a moth, even a little itty bitty baby one, I freak out. And this isn’t your garden variety freak out, it’s a full-blown, “holycrapshe’sgoingtoeitherpassoutorbreaksomething” freak out.
And not funny either. In retrospect, sure. It’s fucking hilarious. But if you try to shove a moth (yes, even a dead one) into my face, odds are I’ll vomit onto yours. I think C. witnessed two freakouts before he realized exactly how bad they were… now he kills them without remorse and just doesn’t tell me.
Good man, that one.