Shower, interrupted.

The thing is, some people actually like snakes. They keep them as pets. They take them out and play with them. They even kiss them. To all these people, I take my hat off to you, I blow a thousand kisses your way and say with all possible love and respect, stay the hell away from me! No, I don't think they're cute. No I don't want to touch them. And which part of "if you don't take that thing out of here, I'll brain you with this hairbrush" don't you understand?

I don't. Just the thought of one occupying the same square mile as me gives me goosebumps. Which is why when snakey showed up...I was a tad disturbed. There I was in the shower scrubbing away at the encrusted dust. If I broke into an untuneful rendering of My Humps, it was only to show how secure and safe I felt in this strange bathroom on the top of a rarely visited (by tourists, anyway) hill in Perak.

Suddenly there it was. On the wall beside the heater box. This long black thing undulating wildly. I was wet. And naked. It was inches from me. In that small trapped space.

I let out a series of staccato shrieks. My friends Katherine and David, who were on holiday with me, came pounding from the hall, where they had been watching TV and banged on the bathroom door.

"Jenn, Jenn are you alright? Open the door? Are you decent? Can I come in?" This was David.

Katherine, who is very, very bright, had ascertained, without asking, simply from the quality of my blood-curdling shriek that it was a snake in here with me. She knows about me and snakes. She ran to get the men in charge of this bungalow to deal with it.

So there I was. Wet. And barely covered with the standard white towel. "Use our bathroom," Dave said.

I stumbled out of there shaking. As I completed my interrupted shower I found myself laughing hysterically. I was still shivering, but I couldn't stop. I gasped and howled.

Katherine came over and gave me a hug.

"You poor, poor thing, the men have dealt with it."

"They put it outside?"

"No, they chopped off its head."

"Oh."

"Well they didn't want it to come back. And apparently this one was poisonous."

"Oh."

Weird. I hate snakes. But I hadn't wanted them to kill it. Just to remove it, so it could slither away to some inoffensive corner of the hill where it wouldn't bother me anymore.

Last night I dreamt of three snakes in water. The middle one was my old buddy. I was snakesitting for a friend, but was too afraid to feed them. So I let someone fry them to death, hoping it didn't hurt.

OK now for the tag. I was tagged by Lemontree and apparently I am meant to describe my perfect lover. Eight points. Hmmm...how do I do this when perfection annoys the intestines out of me?

Well here are the rules....

Begin Quote "Rules of the Game.
1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.
2. You have to mention the sex of the target.
3. Tag 8 victims to join this game & leave a comment on their comments saying they've been tagged.
4. If tagged the 2nd time, there's no need to post again." End Quote


And here goes.

Perfect Lover.

He/She/Indeterminate (preferably an alien from an interesting planet)

1. Intelligent enough to hold your own end of the conversation, without being arrogant and overbearing.

2. A free spirit. (Some people like commitments. I don't)

3. When I want to be left alone, you leave me the hell alone, whether it's for a day, a week, a month, a year. I'll call you sometime. Really.

4. Generous.

5. If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends...

6. A lyrical soul.

7. A good cook.

8. No babies, no babies, no babies, no babies. Not now. Not ever. So if lover is male, it would be preferable if he comes with a nice vasectomy.

I don't wanna tag anyone. Or if I did, I would say, OK now send this to eight people and tell them to kiss the next person who says, snufflelubugus under their right ear.

And so it goes, and so it goes.