I don't remember how it all started, but today over gchat K and I stumbled upon my fear of frogs. Yes, fear of frogs and yes, as with anything there IS a story involved.
Travel back to the summer of 1996. I was about to be a Senior in high school. The world was my oyster! I had the whole world on a string! We are the world. . . .we are the children! Oh, wait. Sorry. Anyway, I was in high school and was invited to go with my friend Jodi and her family to their condo in Florida for a week. We flew in, tossed our luggage in our room and hit the beach for the evening. By the time we got back we were tired from travel and all the humidity (side note: Florida in the summer? Not the most desirable, weather-wise I gotta say). Their building had an exterior elevator which was set apart from the condos, which also had exterior doors. Everything is just so outdoorsy in Florida!
I was wearing a tank top, thus leaving my broomstick teen-aged arm exposed. We stumbled into the elevator, pushed the button, and leaned against the wall to rest. Jodi was at the other end of the elevator across from me.
I suddenly felt something on my arm. Since I knew I was by myself I was a wee bit puzzled. I opened my eyes and looked down at my bicep and saw a HUGE FROG the size of my hand suctioned to my arm. He had to weigh at least three pounds and it was clear he took his bug-eating quite seriously. If you were to see this frog in a dark alley, you would turn around and high-tail it out of there. While clutching your purse.
So I did what any person would do in this situation: I started screaming. As loud as you can possibly imagine.
Jodi snapped to attention as she must have thought I developed Turrets. I grabbed the frog (AIEE!) and threw him (he landed safely on the button panel, so no need to contact PETA), then ran over to Jodi and buried my face in her chest and continued to scream. And scream and scream and scream. I literally could not stop.
We finally made it up to her floor and we ran out of the elevator as fast as we could into her condo. Her father had heard me and seriously thought we were getting killed so he was already on his way out. Once we (well, Jodi since I'm sure I was catatonic at this point) explained what had happened he went out to set the frog free. But not after poking fun at the situation, of course. Because really, if you heard screaming like that and found out it was only because of a frog? That didn't even maul your face? You'd have something humorous to say as well I'm sure. But he WAS deadly. I saw it in his EYES.
To this day I can still feel his little webbed sticky feet on my skin and it heebs me the eff out. To overcome this trauma, in college I went out and bought frog pajama bottoms. They are cute and friendly looking cartoon frogs with bucked teeth and it's the cheapest form of therapy I have ever had.
Upon hearing the story in its entirety K asked if she thought Mr. Frog had pajama bottoms of me to get over his fear of screaming high school girls. Man, I certainly hope so.