[flv width=”320″ height=”240″]http://heyitcouldbeworse.com/media/bunsen-tasteslikerabbit.flv[/flv]

Angela and I went to go pick up Bunsen today. We had to drive from Sterling, Virginia, down to Yorktown, Virginia. That’s normally about a 3 hour drive. It wound up taking us about 4.5. Traffic heading down was horrible, what with traffic down 95, near Busch Gardens and the typical weekend migration of people from Ohio, Pennsylvania and New Jersey to Virginia Beach.

I was bored. Due to Angela’s control issues, I’m normally in the passenger seat. If we rode motorcycles I bet you can’t guess who would be the cycle bitch. Here’s a hint: Me. So we decided to just play a game of sorts and ask each other questions. You realize, we call this a ‘game’. Normal people call this a ‘conversation’. Humor us. Think of it as the oral equivalent of the book ‘What If…?’.

One of the questions that I posed was ‘What do you fear?’ and Angela came up with a single, concise and very well articulated answer. If she wants to share it she can do so herself. I don’t want to give any of her foes kryptonite. This is what I like about Angela: her ability to take in the question, process it and then provide a well thought out response. Most of the time.

When it was my turn to answer my question I discovered that I’ve turned into a paranoid germophobe.

Angela: Ok, so it’s you’re turn! What do you fear?
Me: What do I fear? Wow. To be honest, I really haven’t thought that much about it. I mean, a lot of things piss me off and make me cranky…
Angela: Really…
Me: …but I don’t think I really fear anything.
Angela: Oh, ok.
Me: Except.
Angela: Except?
Me: Ok, I fear the following –

  • Stubbing or accidentally skinning my toes. You know, when you walk around barefoot and ram your pinky toe into a table leg or something? I always have to curl my toes in when I get out of the shower and open the door for fear that when I do open it my freshly scrubbed and vlunerable tootsies might get skinned by the bottom of the door.
  • I fear falling down and/or tripping. Not just because it would hurt, but because I might trip on something and as I’m falling something sharp will be in front of me and I’ll spear my eyes. Or I’ll slip on something and somehow land on my crotch.
  • Which brings me to another fear – I’m scared something will happen to my penis. I don’t know what, maybe something medical or it gets caught in my zipper or somehow a witch doctor makes it disappear or something. There was an article that I read online about the world’s weirdest looking animals and one of them was called the Candiru, a fish in the Amazon that attacks the human penis in ways I don’t care to discuss.
  • I have to use the bathroom with the door closed and locked because I feel that it would give me just enough time to clean up in case ninjas, angry pirates, zombies or terrorists are looking for me.
  • And, finally, I fear using coupons.

Angela: …
Me: Yep, other than that, I don’t fear anything.
Angela: You’re quite the catch aren’t you? I’m really one lucky girl to have married such a sane and rational guy.
Me: I KNOW! THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING!

After a few minutes of somewhat awkward silence I finally realized that she was being sarcastic. I hesitate to tell her about the time my mom saw a dark something on the floor of the garage and said ‘I think it’s a mouse’ and I said ‘No, it isn’t!’ and we both went closer to look at it. Fully expecting to be able to say ‘See! It’s just a sock!’ I moved to within a few inches of it and it’s tail flung out and it’s beady little eyes flashed at me.

My mom and I screamed and hopped around like two 3 year old little girls.

Quite a catch, indeed.