Thursday, July 25, 2013
I do not like snakes. I repeat. I do not like snakes at all. I know some are considered "good" snakes, but I don't care. I don't like any of them and they completely freak me out.
I remember one time when I was little my mom stepped on one. Barefoot. She doesn't like them either. I was probably 3 or 4 at the time and she just went crazy. We lived on a highway and my dad's parents and grandparents lived next to us. My grandfather came over with a gun. I think this is what started my fear.
I also remember when we lived in the same house a bull running through our fence one day. It was funny because at that time the Schlitz Malt Liquor beer commercials were popular. Do you remember? "Don't Say Beer Say Bull!" Here is an old commercial with the bull running through.
Me and Sydney were going somewhere last week and just as we came to the end of our street a snake was in the middle of the road. She likes them as much as I do so she just instinctively ran over it. Then, backwards and over it again. We got out to see if it was dead and it played opossum. We slowly inched closer and closer to it and finally, the head moved and came toward us. We couldn't get back in the car fast enough. And, then, she drove over it, then backwards to go over it again. Then forward, then backwards. I was dying laughing. She made sure that thing was dead! I was laughing while cringing every time I felt the bump. It was a good size snake.
Whew! I have the heebie jeebies just thinking about it!
My boyfriend in college lived with his two brothers and one of them had a pet snake. A python. A really big python. I remember going in one day and I had been there a few minutes and happened to look at the glass case they kept it in. It was gone. I, as fast as I could speak, asked where it was. The three of them were clueless. I didn't go back. Pretty much a deal breaker.