I Am Diva, Hear Me Squeal

While I pride myself on my redneck-edness there is also that "diva" attached to my name and I'll be honest, sometimes I really am a diva. Not often, but yeah, it's there. Mainly when there are bugs. And critters. And other squirmy, wiggly, creepy things.

I had to run errands this morning and I had made my post office stop, library stop and Walmart stop. The only thing left to do was drop a payment off at the utilities department. Our house has rural electric, but I had to drop a payment off at the city and since it was the day the bill was due there was a line at the drive-thru. Since I had Conner in the backseat getting out was not high on the want-to-do list -- so I sat.

It got kind of warm sitting there in the sunshine, but was too chilly for the AC, so I decided to roll down the window. I looked to my left and there was the most gigantic stinkbug I have ever seen, just sitting there on the inside ledge of the window, and trust me, I grew up in the country - I know stinkbugs. It was HUGE. So I hit the button to roll the window down and my plan was to shoo him out the window so he could go home to his stinky little family. Except when I shooed him with the check in my hand.... instead of flying out the window to freedom he flopped onto my leg.

I screamed. Loudly. And I screamed, "OH  MY GOSH! STINKBUG!" Conner said, "Oh my dosh! Stinkbug, Kiki!" But his cute reply barely registered because I was doing something akin to a sitting-down version of the Funky Chicken right there in the seat of my van. I was flapping my legs like there was no tomorrow in an effort to make Stinky McStinkerton get the heck OFF OF ME, but instead? He fell off my leg and INTO MY CROTCH.

Okay, now here is where I COM-PUH-LEET-LY freaked the heck out. The check in my hand was transformed from a check to a bug whacker-away-er, except I was still doing the Funky Chicken and the stinkbug was just hiding his stinky self down where I personally don't want anything stinky. No offense. But I speak the truth, people. I'm sure you feel the same.

So anyway, I am still screaming and OH  MY GOSH-ing and Funky Chicken-ing right there in my seat and I realized later I was holding my breath because I was pretty sure all my flailing and screaming (Do stinkbugs have ears?) was making him go all stinky and stuff. The lady in the drive-thru window could see me and in the midst of my seizure I noticed her leaning over to look at me. It was then I decided I had to get out of my van. Right then.

I jumped out and did a crazy ittle hopping move on the concrete as I dusted my booty with my hands, shook both legs like a cat with tape on his paws and for good measure, dusted off my arms, neck, hair, chest and back to ensure the bug was not on me anywhere. The capris I was wearing have big turned up cuffs so I unfolded the cuffs and batted at them with my hands, still clutching the check in my hand, by the way. Convinced the bug was nowhere lurking on my body, I leaned inside the van to see where he was lurking in there. Conner, seeing me stick my panicky face back in, said, "Kiki? You okay? You see stinkbug?" I said, "No baby, not yet, but he's somewhere in here...I'm sure of it." And I punctuated every syllable with a smack on the seat. I guess I thought I was going to rustle him out or something.

I never found the little fella, so he either escaped during my very public, very graceful, sidewalk dance on city property or he found a safe place to live inside my van. Either way, out of sight was good enough at that point. I got back in the van, rolled the window down - you know, so he could fly if he wanted - and soon it was my turn at the window. The lady only gave me a couple of sideways looks and I tried to really appear normal. I'm sure the vein bulging in my neck and the messed up hair helped.

Now, fast forward to this afternoon just before the kids got home from school. I was walking out to my room to get the cord for my iPod when I felt an itch. On my rear-end. And, because I am a stay-at-home mom I am at liberty to scratch whenever I feel inclined - because 2 year olds don't judge. I reached back to give it a little scratch and felt something. Something hard. ON MY BUTT. As in STUCK TO IT.

Yep, I did the Funky Chicken again. Right there in my bedroom which was much more private than the front sidewalk at City Hall, thankfully. And, because I just knew the stinkbug had somehow found his way into my pants and into my underwear I just reached in to feel. Don't tell me you wouldn't have. I totally know you would have done the same thing.

The first dive into my pants was over the underwear. Yep, what I found was something hard alright. And it was in a square-ish shape. SORT OF LIKE A STINKBUG. I immediately envisioned the stinkbug had latched himself to my hiney and was sucking my will to live. Nevermind that stinkbugs aren't parasites and don't suck blood, much less a person's will to live. So there I was, at a place....a very precarious place. A place where I was going to have to touch the life-sucking stinkbug in order to remove it from my body so I could live to raise my children, maybe go to Disney World again and possibly learn to play the fiddle. But see, even if it's attached to my body, I loathe the thought of touching a bug. But I really want to go to Disney World so I made the decision to dive again - down the underpants.

I found the hard, square-shaped object attached to my booty, pinched, took a deep breath....and pulled. I moved my shaky hand to where I could see it, expecting to see a fanged stinkbug, licking his chops, possibly with little bits of my tushy skin dangling from his jaws. But instead I found one of Kady's fake, stick-on fingernails.

Complete with glitter.

Because I am truly a diva. Right down to my core.

Or my rear.

However you want to look at it.