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Driving through the coastal California countryside my sister points out that "all those bushes are poison oak. If you tell the poison oak you admire it you won't get it. Poison oak and ivy want to be admired."

Me: "I won't touch it; we won't be traipsing through the nature."

Her: "I can get it just from looking at it."

Me: "I think you're beautiful and wonderful poison oak!"

I then petted a very large dog on its head because I cannot ignore animals, even though I told myself if there is a dog at the oyster bbq farm I am not going to pet it. This morning I have ever the slightest and insignificant itch on my thumb. The oysters were surprisingly good. Succulent and tender.

The worst is finding a big fat wood tick crawling around on you. I hate those things. Most insects don't make me squeamish but ticks are different because they try to find sneaky places on your body to borrow into and suck blood. Fuck that shit. And they can carry disease. When I find them I burn them.



I hate the way they move too. They're just creepy in general.

Why did I read this while I'm itchy