Creepy Stuff, Folks!

As a general rule, I do not like geese. Sure, they are okay when they're flying in the sky. Yes, it is pretty cool the way they instinctively know how to make that V formation. It's psuedo-interesting that they take turns being in the front of the formation and that each bird flies slightly above the other to reduce wind resistance. Yea...they're freaking brilliant. But, generally speaking, geese are kind of like the honey badger of the bird world. They are mean. They are loud. They litter every square foot of my walkway into work with green poop. Frankly, they terrify me.

This afternoon, as I was leaving work, two geese were having a bit of a domestic dispute outside of the front door. They were honking and screaming at one another quite loudly. As I walked past, they took flight suddenly and inexplicably...right over my head. I ducked. I looked around to see if anyone noticed. If anyone stood nearby to come to my rescue when the evil creatures inevitably attacked. I screamed like a little girl on the inside. Remember...I don't like geese. They landed near my car. They continued to honk at one another. That is, until I walked up. They both stopped and stared at me. Suddenly silent. Staring into my very soul with their malicious goosey eyes. Perfectly still, as if I were intruding on a personal conversation. Eavesdropping on an intimate exchange. I just wanted to get to my car with as little goose poop as possible on the bottom of my shoes. I didn't care about whatever conjugal dispute they were engaged in. I told them as much, but they did not listen. They continued to stare me down. To scrutinize my every move. I walked slowly, trying not to make any sudden moves that would cause a honking bloodbath. I willed them to walk away. To take their private conversation to the other end of the parking lot. I opened my car door and dove headfirst into my 5-star safety-rated Toyota Camry. I breathed a sigh of relief. I quickly pulled out my parking spot and left the evil fowl behind. As I peered in my rear view mirror to make certain that I was not being followed, I saw one of the geese standing in the parking spot I had just left.....pooping. Maniacal creatures.

On an equally disturbing note, I have begun gagging on my toothbrush when I brush my teeth in the morning and evening. It's quite an unpleasant experience. I used to gag terribly on my toothbrush when I was pregnant with my twins. I can pretty much 100% guarantee that I am not pregnant. Unless, of course, God decided to choose a chubby lesbian with a strangely hodge-podge hillbilly/Fargo accent and a minor internet addiction to give birth to the second coming. Highly doubtful. Yes, I make cute kids, but I think God would have a little more sense than to subject his only begotten Son to my questionable parenting style. So…pretty certain I am not pregnant. I have no clue why I am suddenly gagging on my toothbrush, but it does not exactly bode well for my oral health. I read somewhere once that the number of teeth a woman has is inversely proportionate to the number of children she has. More children, fewer teeth. I have personal experience that proves this theory beyond a shadow of a doubt. My grandmother had twelve kids, and many a childhood nightmare revolved around her teeth floating in a cup of water next to her bathroom sink.

Geese and floating teeth. That's creepy stuff, folks!