BFD
BFD
Fucking Blog!
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
I have 11 videos up on YouTube and the one that’s getting all the hits is called Fucking Snakes! I’m guessing it has something to do with the word, “fucking,” because I can’t imagine thousands of people flocking to watch a couple of snakes doing anything else – including fucking!
Actually, I got the idea for the title from my potty-mouthed brother. When he first suggested, Fucking Snakes!, I got all huffy and said, “What kind of crude asshole would use language like that on YouTube?” But when I thought about it long enough, it made sense.
So – I’m thinking of putting the word, “fucking,” in front of everything I do – Fucking Books! Fucking Photos! Fucking Drawings! You get the idea.
If you’ve never seen Fucking Snakes! on YouTube, you may be wondering what it’s actually about. Well, let me tell you.
My friend, Gina, was visiting one afternoon. She left after a while and returned almost immediately. When she rang my doorbell, I asked, “Did you forget something?”
She said, “Get out here. There’s something you need to see.”
“Is it something I don’t want to see?” I asked with trepidation creeping into my voice.
“Probably,” she said, dragging me toward my front gate, which she opened with a flourish. Before us was an enormous snake, coiled and waving its head around menacingly. I didn’t know what sex it was – and I wasn’t about to check. I didn’t even know what kind of snake it was – it was so long, I couldn’t see its tail and if it had a rattle on it. But if there was a rattle, I didn’t hear anything shaking. So it was probably a harmless bull snake.
Yeah – harmless – it’s not poisonous but it can still bite or squeeze the goo out of you. Nevertheless – better a bull snake than a rattle snake.
Gina said, “That thing scared the crap out of me.”
“No kidding,” I said.
Suddenly, Gina began to scream, “Oh my God, here comes another one!”
There was, indeed, another seven-foot snake making its way up the brick walkway. Gina went running into the yard. I went running into the house to get my trusty camera because I sensed something momentous was going to happen that probably included sleazy music and room service.
Sure enough, by the time I got out the door, the two snakes were entwined and gyrating away – very nicely, I might add. I got pretty close to them for optimal viewing. When I detected they were approaching the grand finale, I closed the gate and went back into the house – I figured they should be able to smoke in peace.
Gina, of course, was long gone. When I thought it was safe to leave the house, I went to the front door and discovered the male snake – well – snaking his way up toward the doorknob. Man, I closed that door fast.
I don’t know where the female slithered off to but I had visions of thousands of baby snakes crawling out of holes in a couple of months. I don’t know how long it takes for snake eggs to hatch. I assume snakes lay eggs. Why am I assuming that? They’re not birds, for Christ’s sake. Maybe I should go look it up. (Okay – I admit – I know that snakes lay eggs – it’s not like they can put their feet up in stirrups to give birth).
As I was saying, I was trapped in my house all day because the snake decided it would be nice to circumnavigate the front portal (aka, front yard) a few hundred times. I mean, I could’ve driven off in my car but I was afraid to open the garage. Who knew how many fucking snakes there were out there? Apparently, it was mating season. There could’ve been a whole reptilian orgy going on out there.
So I stayed in and watched while the male snake explored every nook and cranny and thought about how many times I was out there weeding and pruning and wedging myself into overgrown shrubs. How many other times have I been out there with a really big snake around? Don’t answer that.
It seems like every time I stumble into a creature, it’s mating season. One year, it was a herd of elk – my husband had to dive into our car horizontally once to keep from becoming a crossbreeder. Beware of elk in October, especially if they’re bugling (look it up).
Another time, I was visiting the San Diego Zoo with a business associate (when we were supposed to be attending a trade show), and, sure enough, the Aldabra tortoises were going at it. Very slowly. And don’t get me started on the rhinos at the Atlanta Zoo.
Then there was the time I stumbled into a tarantula doing pushups on my flagstone patio. I called up my friend, Dorothy, the wildlife maven. She told me that in mating season thousands of male tarantulas will cross a road to get to one female. Great. I had the Sophia Loren of tarantulas preparing to take on a horde of horny, hairy hombres on my patio and I was taking pictures of it instead of running for my life.
(An aside on Dorothy: she keeps a parrot and a 30-foot boa constrictor in the same room. The parrot is very vocal. I’ll bet its first words upon seeing its neighbor were, “FUCKING SNAAAAAAAAKE!!!!!!! BWOK!!!!”).
Moving along, my husband and I recently visited the Monterey Bay Aquarium. As soon as we got to the penguin exhibit, two specimens began to copulate. Shamelessly, I might add. My husband was taking the video this time, so I just watched in fascination. Unfortunately, the video mysteriously disappeared from his iPhone – or surely there would’ve been a 12th video on YouTube called, Fucking Penguins!
I wonder if that would’ve gone viral too.
So, what’s so fucking funny about the word, “fucking?” It’s not like we haven’t all heard it a million times before. When my mother goes to a movie where every other word is the “F” word, what does she have to say about it? “That was some fucking movie,” she says, that’s what. So, why not have a fucking blog?
Why the fuck not indeed.
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