Some Words and a Picture of Me Being Attacked by Mayflies in the Tanning Bed

Did you like the name of this post? Of course you did. That's why you are here.

Down here in Kissin' Cuzin' Country, Mayflies are being grade-A buttholes. They are MAY-flies. According to my calculations, it is April. Are they so concerned with the Mayans prediction of the world coming to an end that they've decided to come out early and raise a little hell?

These bastards are the size of small birds. They are everywhere. EVERY. WHERE. I killed 14 in my house last night. Two were mating above my bed. While flying.

My husband watched in awe.

Hey, at least they had enough sense to mate in the bedroom instead of some weird place like the kitchen. For you men out there, mating in the kitchen is NEVER a good suggestion, sweetheart. We slice our children's apples on that kitchen counter. Ugh. I need a Clorox wipe just thinking about it.

And, hah! I've managed to embarrass men across the country via my blog!  

Moving on.

I tan. Regularly. I am so in love with subjecting my flesh to UVA rays that I have a tanning bed in my home. Well, it's not actually IN my home. Hubs thought the best place for the tanning bed would be in our garage. It probably is best. I don't want my house to smell like a tanning salon. You know, nothing is as inviting to guests as the smell of my burnt flesh and Get Down Brown Chocolate Body Bronzer.

"Are you guys enjoying your meal?" Susannah asked her guests as she passed the leg of lamb around the beautifully decorated dining table.

"Oh, yes," Alberta hesitated. "Was the lamb...roasted...recently....in a chocolate kind of sauce?"

"No, Alberta. I just tanned while doused in chocolate body butter. That's the burning flesh and chocolate aroma you smell. Tapioca, anyone?"

Tapioca?

Anyway, the tanning bed is in the garage.

Despite the box fans, tanning in the garage in 88 degree weather is like sitting in a  cheap Rival crock pot. If I had a carrot up my schnoz and a potato wedged under my armpit, I could be the Sunday roast. Hmm, I wonder if A1 is an effective tanning lotion? It IS how steak gets done, right? Could it help me get done, too? Done, as in, toasted and cooked and browned in the tanning bed.

I am digressing and this is going to a weird place. I will get back on subject. Immediately.

The heat in the garage doesn't compare to the bugs. Once the tanning bed is turned on, its fluorescent lighting calls every bug within a 3 state radius. It's really nothing but a huge bug zapper, and with the Mayfly problem right now, tanning is a terrifying experience.

One bastard was so huge he had "MOM"
tattooed on his wing. No shit.

It was like a scene from Fear Factor or a Hitchcock film. The insects the size of heavyset hummingbirds swarmed me. I made the following sound at least 432 times in the twenty minutes I was in that enclosed glowing space with buzzing creatures.

"Gnawhwwhwa!"

That word didn't come out the way I had envisioned. I don't guess I can really spell the sound I kept making. It was kind of a yell mixed with a sneeze mixed with sheer panic. Ironically, I make the same sound when I go to Hell Mart on Saturday.

If a camera had been filming while I was being attacked in the tanning bed by these viscous little buttholes, it would be extremely hilarious and disturbing. I finally caved and bolted from the bed, arms flailing, slapping my face, doing jumping jacks, and yelling dirty words at the same time.

You know, the same kind of  thing I do at Hell Mart on Saturday.

My point? Mayflies and tanning beds are a catastrophic combo.

I cant believe I was the genius to figure that one out. 

News Update: I blogged last night and asked you all to give me your blogging ideas. I have gotten some great suggestions from you guys on Blogger, Facebook and Twitter. I will be working on that mass compilation as soon as I get a bit of free time. There is still time to suggest something! Keep your eyes peeled for the Reader's Choice Post and your stellar idea!! Mucho Thank-o!