Sunday, October 24, 2010

Where the Wild Things Are

It’s been a while. I’ve just been very unmotivated for the past while. Probably because it’s been progressively colder and wetter and gloomier, and school’s been harder and longer and boring-er. But here I am, back again. All thanks to Melissa and our stupendous laughs.

So, I was really hyper. And Melissa was getting annoyed with me which, naturally, made me even more giddy. She was making salsa and I was leaning back in the chair, mocking her in such a loving way. Then—I don’t know how it happened, really, we were eating salsa in the kitchen and our roommate wasn’t speaking because she lost her voice (which was pretty hilarious. Sad, but hilarious. Mostly, she sounded like Batman).

Anyways. She was there, and Melissa and I were sitting across from each other, bantering in an exasperating manner and, suddenly, I ask her to make a bird noise. So she chokes out this trill that sounded more like a deflating elephant. She claimed she'd just started laughing, so she tried again. It was just as bad/hilarious. Showing her how it’s done, I cooed like a pigeon. And she says “That’s not a bird, that’s an owl.”


We all started laughing—well, our roommate was wheezing, because her vocal cords were completely shocked; and when I laugh hard, I laugh silent; and Melissa was burrowing into her arm in shame, so there was actually no noise going on. We were all just choking on tears and laughing inside out. And it just got better.

After getting a grip on myself, I decide to test her obviously-lacking skills. Thinking of an animal that I have never really considered making defining noises, I say, “Make an alligator noise.”

So she rolls her eyes, still laughing, shrugs, and makes a noise. A whirring noise. Like a spinning fan.

I choke on my water, and we’re all back to laughing.

“That’s your alligator noise?” I manage, laughing incredulously, wondering what kind of nature shows she’d watched. And suddenly she chokes and sputters and stops breathing and starts shaking her head: “No, you said elevator!” So we laugh even harder. 
If that’s possible. 
Which it is. 
Because we did. 

I don’t think any of us really breathed for a while. We were gasping and laughing and gasping so we could laugh again.

An elevator noise.

She proceeded to make a fool of herself at my demand for quite some time. I got her to try a monkey noise, a T-Rex, and the classic Raptor bark. That was just great. If you ever run into Melissa, ask for her raptor noise. It’s brilliant. A bloody ripper. 

Though, I have to say, nothing exactly beats her “alligator” noise. 

Saturday, October 2, 2010

There It Goes

I came across a spider today. One of those big, brown, ugly ones. So I did what any mature, adult would do: I screamed for my big sister to come kill it.

She came grudgingly up the stairs with her choice of weapon. An empty orange juice bottle. Not exactly what I would have gone for, but I wasn't going to step in with any other suggestions, because then I'd have to take a swing of it. And, as you already know, I hate spiders.

Back story:
My greatest irrational fear is  that I'll try and kill a spider
but it won't die
and then it will be angry
and jump at me
and kill me, probably.

So, Melissa sees it up in the corner of the door frame and takes a swing at it--to try and scare it. 

I whimper. 

She takes a closer swing, hitting it so it balls up a little. Then, she winds it up, goes for the kill, and--BAM!--it suddenly jumps from its spot directly at Melissa. I scream, sure, but Melissa starts shrieking, running down the stairs, shrieking. 

Laura trips into the room, laughing so hard she's doubled over. I try to explain what happened, but when I started saying it jumped at Melissa, Melissa would answer with a panicked scream. 

We were all kind of laughing, Melissa was hyperventilating, bent over, scared to find the spider. I told her to check her hair. She screamed. She asked for us to search her hair, but we wouldn't go any closer. I wouldn't--self-preservation--and Laura was rolling on the floor, laughing. 

Melissa kept screaming, "Check my hair!" But she was too terrified to actually undo her pony-tail, run her fingers through her hair. I would be too. She ran her hands up and down her body, still freaking out, and I was still trying to tell Laura what had happened--with the spider just leaping at her. Not that it mattered; Laura was laughing herself to death with or without all the facts. 

It was pretty hysterical. 

We finally found the spider, dead on the floor (and by we, I mean Melissa; Laura and I were laughing too hard to be of any use). 

That moment, when the spider just made a sudden dive for her--I almost fainted. But then Melissa practically flew down the stairs, screaming and shaking, and I just had to laugh. Still, I am eternally grateful for her...bravery. If that had been me, I wouldn't have had the breath to scream, I would have just died. Right then and there.