The Ten Plagues of Egypt are the ten calamities imposed upon Egypt by Yahweh as recounted in the Book of Exodus, Chapters 7–12, to convince Pharaoh to let the poorly treated Israelite slaves go. Pharaoh did not permit this until after the tenth plague. The plagues were applied in a way to portray clearly the reality of Israel’s God, and by contrast the impotence of Egypt’s gods. Some commentators have associated several of the plagues with judgment on specific gods associated with the Nile, fertility and natural phenomena.
Dudes, I think I upset Yahweh.
Let’s take a look at the list:
Plague #1: Nile Turned to Blood
Well, I’m not anywhere close to the Nile. But I can tell you that Oklahoma City streams and rivers grew exponentially a few weeks ago. And all that red dirt made things look a bit creepy. The metro got 8 inches of water in a few hours, which resulted in all of this:
Please note girl clinging to tree. (This photo CREEPS ME OUT. Like, almost to the point of nightmares. Not sure why... maybe because she looks like a raccoon. And I mean no disrespect. It's pretty awesome she's alive and well, that's a brave 17 year old. But this photo is creepy and raccoon-like, yes?) My mom saw this and flipped out. She called me crying, begging me to move home. I guess I can’t blame her.
I got stuck on I-44 that morning. I didn’t think anything of it when I left. Just rain, step over the puddles and you’re fine. I sat on the Interstate for about 2 hours before things started moving and when they did, I realized it was people were, quite literally, making a run for it, in a desperate attempt to not end up one of those crazy, shirtless people on the news clinging to the top of their SUV. Watching water rise all around your car, not fun. So I, panic attack building, make the decision to haul ass under the Broadway Extension/I-235 bridge, which at that point has about a foot of water under it for about 50 yards. Scariest 50 yards of my life. I screamed the whole time, visions of me, crazy and shirtless, clinging to the sunroof of my week-old car (more on that in a minute) playing over and over in front of my eyes. Well luckily, I made it out and to work in Midwest City. I stayed at my office long enough to calm down and let the rain calm down before making it to training in Norman, three hours late.
Funnies. It’s not so funny when it’s 8 inches of water, as opposed to just one. So, the carpet got flooded and stinky, in both the living room and my room. Gross. Hopefully FEMA comes through with some sweet, sweet federal cash for that.
Plague #7: Hail
Oh. Yeah. We got hail. See the previous entry. State Farm ended up totaling my car. Again. So I went car shopping. Again. This time, much less stressful. I knew exactly what I wanted, exactly how to deal with financing, all of that. I went test driving on Memorial Day and drove no fewer than 10 vehicles. I was on a mission, dudes. Bonus points to Greg Johnson for going with me on every, single test drive. On the top of my list was a Mazda 3 and by Jorge, I could afford it so that’s what I ended up with.
It’s pretty. It’s fast. It’s spacious. It’s classy. It’s new. I named her Estella Mankiller. Plague #7 didn’t end too badly. However, my monthly payments are higher, as is insurance, and financing on the car still isn’t straightened out. I am so sick of not having credit. You’d think something would show up by now. You’d be wrong.
Plagues #3, #4 and #8: Gnats, Flies and Locusts
Gertie got fleas about a month ago. And brought them into the house. Chelsey and me CLEANED. I mean, scrubbed the condo from top to bottom. It was a weekend project. Therapeutic, honestly. Last week, I thought I saw a big one on my bed, like a big momma pregnant flea. I killed it and hoped it was just a freak occurrence, a mutant flea with pregnant super powers, strong enough to withstand fogging. Upon closer inspection, this is no flea. This is no tick. This bug is nothing sponsored by Gertie. This is, in fact, a bed bug. Quite possibly the grossest shit I can possibly imagine. In my bed; probably my favorite place in the world. SHUT UP, UNIVERSE.
I found more when I pulled my bed apart, hiding under my boxspring and on the side of my mattress. Not gonna lie to you, knowing that parasites are crawling around in there, waiting for me to sleep so they can drink my blood is enough to make me never, ever sleep again.
And how does one get rid of bed bugs? Oh, it’s pretty easy. Call an exterminator and pay $300 a room. Good, because last week I got this fantastic money tree in the backyard and it grows dollar bills whenever Gertie pees on it. You should see what happens when she poops on it. Rare coins and Rolex’s. Anyway, it's next to impossible to get rid of them without professional help. And said money tree. You also have to take every piece of clothing you own to a laundry mat and let it tumble around in a high-heat dryer for a while. Super fun. Last week was great.
And how does one contract bed bugs? Luggage, mainly. It’s got nothing to do with cleanliness. And much to Chelsey’s mother’s dismay, it’s got nothing to do with Gertie. Poor baby-dog is probably so sick of shit biting her that she’s about to run away. Bed bugs normally load up into a bag and you bring them home. I, or Chelsey, could have gotten them from anywhere, really. I’m betting it happened in the last month, because I noticed nothing bed bug-related during the flea-superclean.
AND YES, I know bed bugs aren’t flies, gnats or locusts but they’re close enough and gross enough to occupy all categories. So, 5 out of 10 ain’t bad, biblically. I’ve got frogs, Plague on Cattle, boils, darkness and death of the firstborn left. So basically, I’ll probably get mad cow disease, on top of some kind of flesh eating bacteria and fall victim to constant rolling blackouts and power surges. Maybe if we’re lucky, Chelsey and me will get to re-wire the condo’s electricity. And then we’ll find frogs in our walls. Evil, venomous frogs that will kill Gertie, since she is our first-born. Point is it’s getting absolutely ridiculous. I wouldn’t be surprised by anything at this point. It's sort of like the condo is magical, like living at Hogwarts.
Most of the time I feel like that one dude who always complains about everything. You know that dude, everyone knows that dude. The dude whose day is always worse than yours. Both of your parents could have died in a car accident but because that dude stubbed his toe, his day is magically worse. I’ve got some pretty legit complaints, though. I’d do whatever necessary to make this bad luck go away. I’m not proud of any of this, not badges of honor for me. I don’t care that this stuff makes me a tougher person. I’m tough enough.
And TRUST ME, I’m completely aware of how much worse it could be. I’ve got family that loves me, the greatest friends on the planet, a job, an adorable dog and a roof over my head (be it crumbling before the awesome power of Yahweh), among other things. I get really upset about life for about half an hour and then just start laughing. Because there’s nothing else I can possibly do. I’ve got a pretty great sense of humor, too.
All of these natural disasters has left little time for anything else. I was training for my job a ton in Norman but now I'm back in my office, already with more work than I can handle. I've gotten pretty good at leaving work-related drama at work, but it's creeping in again. I'm trying not to let it. I've been making an active attempt to spend time with friends after work and do more creative things.
I had a Tulsa-Day with previously mentioned Greg. We took in the aquarium, a bar fight, pub food and the Center of the Universe, which is this bizarre sculpture/”acoustic anomaly”. If you stand directly in the center of this unassuming concrete circle, you can hear your own echo, even though everything around you appears completely flat. Yeah, there’s an explanation for it but I wish I didn’t look it up. I liked it better when it was magical.
I also had a birthday in there. Hello, year 26. On which, I bought the new car. My dad was also in town for business and took me out for dinner. It was really great to see him, I’m quite happy it worked out. I don’t feel any older. I’ve been too busy to age. And blog. Lo siento. But at least I’m still funny. Here's a video of Gertie trying to eat the vacuum cleaner.
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