Sometimes, when I’m outside, I like to watch little bugs take forever to travel the same amount of distance I can travel in a single step. Outside being the key term here. Because I find it fascinating watching all those little legs move so quickly. Working so hard and barely getting anywhere. What a strange life. Your whole goal for the day being to not be in the same place that you started at. Scavenge for some other bugs to eat. Climb some “trees” AKA plants. Fly around somewhere between 6 and 10 feet off the ground if you’ve been gifted by the bug gods. The usual, I suppose.

That’s outside, though. As in outside of the home. The residence. The abode. The lodgings. The main place of living. Do you understand where I’m going with this post? Bugs are fascinating in their natural habitat. Nature. The great outdoors. The environment. Mother Earth. As long as they stay out of my human sized personal bubble. Let me make this statement very clear before moving on any further: I am NOT a bug fan. I don’t like bugs. I think they’re gross. I think they’re pests. I think they’re kind of freaky. I don’t fully understand why we couldn’t have survived with more puppies. I would be fine not interacting with another bug again.

As soon as a bug gets bold, or takes advantage of a literal open door, and enters an indoor space … game over! This is a slightly controversial take in today’s world, but I will kill a bug. I do not kindly put it on a piece of paper and set it free on my patio. I do not open the front door and try to shoo it out with love and kindness. The only kindness I’m showing is that of a quick exit. Into bug heaven. With the sole of my shoe. If that bug wanted to live, either stay outside, or stay out of sight. 

I feel like I have digressed quite a bit from the main topic of this post. Which, of course, is what bugs think of how we behave around them. For starters, we have to look like moving mountains to them. Straight up giant dinosaurs. Especially the hills among us – the small children who like to hunt them down to play, or to stomp on their homes. Are they terrified? Are they oblivious? Are they even aware that some of us don’t like to be bothered with their presence? Hard to tell since we can’t communicate with them.

Take this example: you’re driving down the road. Having a great time. Belting out top 40 songs like you’re auditioning for a record label contract. Feeling the sunshine through the windows and rocking your shades. Then BAM! Surprise! A bug has joined you on this journey. And has been with you the whole time peacefully taking a ride, for free might I add, staying in an out of sight place. Why come out? If I can see you, I’m going to freak out. I’m going to do everything in my power to get you out of my car. So my blood pressure can return to normal.

What goes through the bug’s mind, though? When I roll down my window and yeet them back home. Well, I’m assuming back home, but more likely they are in a very unknown territory months of travel away from their families. Honestly, that sounds traumatizing. If that happened to me, I’d be terrified. Why? Because without any sort of technology, how would I even know how to get home? Would anyone come looking for me? Where would they look for me? Do bugs have built-in tracking devices so they can return to their loved ones? 

Ok, so maybe I do care about the fate of the bugs. More so, I care about not leaving any orphaned larvae stuck in someone’s backyard forever wondering why one of their parents never came home after trying to hitch an express train to work. No amount of therapy can give them answers. And since we can’t understand the bug noises, we cannot help ease their pain. Even when we’re the ones responsible for breaking up that family. A true travesty.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!


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Fall is just the best. The leaves change colors, it gets colder (helllloooo flannel weather), football season is in full swing, pumpkin lives everywhere and in everything, desserts become the main food group, Thanksgiving is coming – what is not to love?! That was a rhetorical question for all you readers out there right now thinking one, or more, of the following:

  • I hate the cold, I’d rather it be so hot I can’t tell the difference between the inside of my car and an oven
  • Flannel makes me look like a lumberjack and buttons are for The Pussycat Dolls, not real adults 
  • Pumpkin is the worst food and I hate all pumpkin tasting things
  • Football is confusing, sports are dumb, I wish that schools would do away with athletics and invest the money in useful things like underwater basket-weaving
  • The leaves don’t change color, they die! And then I have to rake and rake and rake and rake and rake and rake and rake and rake them out of my yard
  • I’m on a diet and I don’t “dessert” right now
  • Thanksgiving is just an excuse for our country to get fatter and spend all their money on things they don’t need

Alright all you negative Nancys, gloomy Gregs, cynical Cindys, and pessimistic Petes – I don’t know who threw you into a leaf pile as a child and left you there, without a jacket on, to cry all cold and alone, but I am not here for it. Therapists get paid a lot of money to listen to your traumatizing stories … and last I checked, I am not a therapist. Nor do I even pretend to be, so I’m going to need you to take your sad sack self somewhere else. Or at least fake your happiness for the next few minutes.

Quick tangent (that should make you doubters smile, or at least twitch one side of your mouth slightly): pumpkins belong to the same food family as cucumbers and squash. Get ready for this: it’s the cucurbita family! What a fun word! It’s latin for gourd – also a fun word, but not as freaking fantastic as CUCURBITA. Sounds like an adult beverage … I’ll take one cucurbita margarita, por favor señorita.

Anyways, so we have Fall – this wonderful, magical time of year. Yet, like many (almost) perfect things, there’s always that one little head-scratching quirk you could do without. Enter Halloween – the actual devil’s holiday where we aim to frighten people (of all ages, mind you, because evil doesn’t discriminate) with the most awful, horrific, terrifying creatures and actions we can think of. Nothing is off limits apparently, because it’s the one time of year where vicious acts of violence are not only fantasized on television, but actively praised by audiences.

‘What a great movie, my favorite part was when the killer MURDERED EVERYONE!’ 

‘That movie scared the crap out of me! Especially when the possessed child ripped out the doctor’s throat and MURDERED EVERYONE!’ 

‘I love horror movies because the characters make terrible decisions and EVERYONE GETS MURDERED!’

‘I want to dress up as the grim reaper this year. I really admire his ability to effectively MURDER EVERYONE!’

You sick, demented, souls. How can you like that? Your idea of fun is watching a movie depicting one of the worst sins of all time, and you want to be scared while doing that?! Call me crazy, but I like sleeping peacefully at night. Without thoughts like: ‘I hope the zombie isn’t hiding under my bed waiting to spread the killer plague to me’ or ‘I hope that the loose serial killer isn’t standing behind my shower curtain waiting to end me’ or ‘I hope that there isn’t someone with a chainsaw standing behind this flickering street light waiting to chase me to my death’.

Ugh, Halloween is not for me and I was over it a long, long time ago. Is the candy good? Yes, but I’m an adult now and can simply walk into a safe, well-lit, Target on a Saturday morning and purchase as many bags of Reese’s Pumpkins as I wish (ok, well, actually, only like 3 because they’re expensive and I’m not trying to drop $50 on chocolate). I’m not ashamed, I’ll own it, I’m a bit of a wimp. I get scared way too easily as it is in normal life, I don’t need an extra reason to have a minor heart attack. Judge me all you want – I’m the one safely inside with my three bags of Reese’s watching a feel good Christmas movie while you’re out there running for your life, hoping chainsaw boy isn’t faster than you.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone, or are that someone, who loves Halloween, I highly doubt we would ever be good friends because how could I trust you? Your idea of a good time is enjoying life’s creepiest creatures from the deep, dark depths of hell. Hard pass from me, but thanks for reading!


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