My mortal enemy... The mosquito.

So now we are going to talk about mosquitoes. That's right, those little buggers that fly around unsuspecting nature lovers, just waiting for the chance to suck you dry. I am sorry, but I now officially hate them. I know they're just trying to survive and get their daily dose of blood, but dude, indulge in moderation, puh-lease! Let me tell you why I hate mosquitoes.

My story begins with the story of my genetics. Apparently my father and I have a taste for the sugar. We are infiltrated with sweet juicy blood and the bugs, they love that. If we are in a room full of 10 people and 1 mosquito comes in, we will each get sucked on 8 times in 2 minutes, while everyone else leaves with the same amount of blood they came in with (well, depending on exactly what kind of activities these other 8 people are participating in). At least with my dad around, I had someone to share the burden with but you gotta leave the nest some time.

Now fast forward to my reminder of how much I hate mosquitoes. I recently went to El Paso (remember the Alamo) to visit my in laws, who apparently hate me because they just let me wander out into a mosquito plague without so much as batting an eye or uttering a warning! So there I am, skipping along to my ipod with my umbrella in hand, taking in the picture of the mountains shadowing over the fields and all that when I first see a member of my most hated species. He is on my arm and I decide to pretend it is just some gnat. I continue my stroll undisturbed and still happy until I see yet another "gnat". It is at this point that I realize there are plenty on me and they are all feasting away on my veins, which leads me to believe that they definitely are mosquitoes and they definitely have it in for me. I turn and run and end up in hysterics by the time I fly through the front door and verbally assault my husband for not protecting me from the monsters outside. Luckily Granny has the magic kinds of medicine that all grannies seem to have that make it all better. And my husband takes me into the bathroom like a 5 year old, to swat bugs off of me and to apply this magic potion to all my owies. This makes me a little less pissed and at least clearheaded enough to realize that this is not ENTIRELY his fault.

Oh and I may have forgotten to mention that I am actually allergic to these little villains as well! So the 17 mosquito bites that I received in the 4.2 minutes that I was outside, all begin to swell to the size of pennies. Luckily, I also have magical allergy medicine (at least it freakin better be magical for the amount they charge for it) and I was able to reduce them from major monstrosities to meager annoyances. But the war had begun...

I had thought I was over it. I had thought I had moved on with my life! But low and behold, they tracked me... They followed me... They found me... And they attacked me.

Last night I was sitting in the car talking with my friend and I noticed a bug fly in the window. I shooed him and continued my conversation, well at least I continued until I realized I had been itching multiple locations on my left arm. AHHHH!!! That does it!!! How can I be in a practically mosquito free state, sitting in a car for no more than an hour, with the tiny window rolled down slightly, when the one mosquito in all of Arizona finds me and proceeds to mutilate me?! How does that happen?! I was furious! If they keep this up, I'm going to have agoraphobia in no time! I will have to wear bee suits with full netting and all every time I have to walk to my car! How can something so tiny ruin the life of something so much bigger than it? (Might I mention that while I received 9 bites on my left arm, my friend escaped completely itch free!). I hate them and I am currently masterminding an evil plot to destroy them all (if any of you leak my plan to them, you're going down too!)