Little Hermit Crab

If you see life from somethings point of view, it can become sad. Like hermit crabs. From what I understand, they lead 2 types of lives.

Wild Hermit Crab photo by US Fish and Wildlife

Born in the wild, living by the ocean. Its pretty and nice there. You find little bits of food and crawl around in the sun and sand. When your house gets small, you find a new house. That’s not always easy, but you deal, you be a meanie and beat up another crab to steal its house for yourself. If you win, you get a new house, if not, you keep going and try again on another crab. Then one day, you’re just crawling around, being happy, and a seagull comes along, picks you up, next thing you’re flying through the air, your shell smashes open, and the seagull tears you to pieces.


Pet Hermit Crab

I’m not quite sure where a pet hermit crab comes from, if they’re bred or caught. So you have your little habitat, and depending on your owner, this could be quite luxurious or bare minimum. From what I’ve seen, most people go with the minimum, a little sand, a water bowl, a tiny carry around type aquarium. You crawl around in safety, eating your little hermit crab food bits, drinking in your little bowl, maybe you even survive long enough to grow into a new shell, that would be pretty fancy since you’re a novelty pet. Sadly, over time, and not much time, you slow down, because you aren’t properly cared for, this isn’t your natural habitat, and you slowly dry up, essentially asphyxiating because of the lack of humidity for your gills and your ability to breathe properly, a tiny suffering little shell gasping for air until you curl into the tiniest ball you can make yourself, and die.

Now you’re sad. Go get a brownie. Brownies cure everything, well, except diabetes. Brownies do not cure diabetes, so don’t eat them if you have diabetes (I’m looking at you Paula Dean).

If you’re not sad, your heart is probably a dried up little walnut.

Hot Air Balloon or Death Balloon?

Hot air balloons defy science. Actually they don’t, but I think they should, because they are terrifying baskets of death that make no sense. To me, you have a better chance of surviving flying around in a zeppelin than a hot air balloon. The world abandoned zeppelins after they caught fire and blew up and got on album covers, however, we still stand behind the hot air balloon.

I understand how the concept works, what I don’t understand is why anyone would do it. If I owned a hot air balloon this is what my rental ad would say (because I’m super honest):

Death Defying* excitement!  Astounding heights! See the world from a new place!**

Come to Our Hot Air balloon Ride!

*Cannot guarantee you will defy death, as you’re in a wicker basket near fire floating in the air with no real navigation or landing system.

**”a new place” being defined as somewhat up in the sky, higher than a kite, but no promises, this isn’t an exact science.

 You will be in a wicker basket, floating around in the air, with some thing belching fire above you into a fabric giant balloon (none of this sounds insane? anyone?). If this is a “romantic” moment, your pilot may also be attempting to serve you champagne and possibly some kind of smelly cheese. Really? Everythings so safe we can just ignore the pilot to get drunk? My last words “I’m glad I ate the cheese, I’m lactose intolerant” as I plummet to my death because of the misshot champagne cork punctured the balloon. Thats just if there’s an accident. Your idea of romance is being in a wicker basket high in the air, sharing your moments with your loved ones (if you’re poly, how does that work? How many people can you fit in the basket, or do you have to take several trips?) and some person/butler running the fire and menu behind you. 

Next, now you’ve made it into the air. Between 2 to 5 percent of people have a debilitating fear of heights, so there’s a possible panic attack on the horizon if you didn’t know this ahead of time. You’re floating around, maybe you’re not afraid of heights, everything is great. Your balloon captain Lindsey has been “guiding” you (by turning off and on the fire to make more hot air) up and around, all while reassuring you no, the balloon probably won’t catch fire from this very safe flight system that’s being used, so you will not die in a hot air balloon fiery comet. 

Lovely, is that a storm? Shit, how do we avoid it? Lindsey….has fucked off, probably jumped off because you’re screwed. Want to meet Thor? Well here comes a giant rain cloud full of lightning.

Ok that didn’t happen( yes, actually, it kind of did). Instead, its time to land! Yay! Tell the limo that you’ll be landing…….where? Who the fuck knows, it’s decided by nature. This isn’t an exact science.

I can’t honestly tell you a story of what would happen from here. I can tell you some possibilities.

The balloon somehow gets down, and you are lucky enough that it lands somewhat gently, with enough people to grab the rope things and tie it down before you float off again. I don’t know how you get out, maybe you tuck and roll?

The balloon descends, hits the ground roughly, and the basket rolls, catching the balloon, and you become a fireball rolling around the green pasture.

The basket hits a tree on its way down due to a gust of wind, you get stuck in a tree and a fire truck has to come rescue you. Hopefully you don’t catch on fire. Hopefully someone on the fire truck is sexy (hell the uniform is sexy on its own, if no one on the truck is attractive, maybe you can make off with a helmet and a pair of those pants).

Or, worse, you haven’t even considered descent, but since again, you’re in a wicker basket, the bottom falls out and you plummet to your death, like a little human rock. Hopefully you don’t bounce when you hit the ground.

According to my girlfriend Dianne, I am being irrational. Maybe its the high-pitched tone in my voice, or the way I’m arguing with large hand gestures, or that I keep yelling “Death!!”. She assured me that the wicker baskets are reinforced with steel, so you probably won’t fall through. Also, they usually land ok. She said usually.

Have a great time if you’re going to possibly be on a hot air balloon ride. I hope you don’t die, or get dumped for a fireperson.

PS: I now have this song stuck in my head:


I’m watching Xena (per a deal I made with our friend that I would watch all of Xena if she watched all of Buffy the Vampire Slayer), and I’m in the 5th season. Other than being largely confused, the characters have died again. That seems to be a running theme in supernatural type shows (Buffy, Angel, Charmed).

If I die, Dianne knows my wishes. The problem is, I’m fairly certain my wishes are not legal in this country, so I’ve come up with a work around.

Ideally, I would prefer to be eaten. I can be cooked first of course, I don’t want anyone getting salmonella or E. Coli from eating a raw corpse. So I figure if theres a really big oven, like one of those wood burning pizza oven that could hold my whole body, that would work. You might have to guess on seasoning though, I’m not sure what seasonings go with human. I don’t know of any cannibals that publish recipes. It would be more helpful if they did though.

Since I am still certain eating dead bodies is illegal in the U.S., I would like to be cremated. I have asked Dianne to make sure she’s with me every moment from when I die until I’m ashes, that way she can be certain my body wouldn’t be fondled by a necrophiliac or parts sold off, or my ashes replaced with cement mix. I’ve heard of these things. I especially don’t want any of my organs donated. They’re my organs, and it seems wrong that they might end up in some hyper religious person that hates gays or something.

Ok, now I will prewarn you about my funeral, but if you don’t show up and do this stuff, I will be upset, and I will haunt people if I have to. I intend to be made into a delicious stew, and probably a cake and some other foods too. So when you’re sitting at my funeral and everyone’s giving endearing speeches “Here lies my beloved Nina, my autumn flower. Somewhat less attractive now that she’s all corpsified and gross.” and you eat something, know that some part of my ashes is mixed in, so I will be with you, at least until your next bowel movement. I can’t figure out how to be with you permanently, maybe made into a tattoo ink of some sort? But the point is I want to be absorbed by the people I love and care about, and in my insane mind this makes sense. Don’t think about the logistics of it, its like religion or gravity, just have faith that it works.

Mmm delicious stew