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Tuesday, January 21, 2014

~The Tale Of The Hedgehog

In what may actually be the first time I've ever mentioned 'the hedgehog and haven't meant Ron Jeremy my ultimate tale of dumbassery...  (Which as you can imagine, is sayin' a lot.) 

I give you this:

A month or so ago I was Facebook-y involved in a conversation with a couple of friends (LEM et Ree Ree Bun) who I've known since middle and high school, respectively.  One of those chats that starts as one subject and morphs into an entirely different somewhat insane topic.  ...Which is when the subject of opossums popped up. 

Now, I don't wanna brag I don't wanna boast (Yeah, toast!!) give you the impression that I'm into opossums.  But I'm kinda into opossums they've played a big weird role in my life. 

A million years ago when LEM, Ree and I were drinking Bartles & James outta our Dairy Queen cups and listening to the Violent Femmes for the 837th time driving around the rural outskirts of our ancestral home, tempting fate by venturing out to a place called, Cry Baby Bridge.  A place locally rumored to be haunted by the wails of a mother who for some the fuck reason or another had drowned her kid(s).  I'm sketchy on the details, but suffice it to say as sixteen year olds with still-hot-from-being-laminated drivers licenses and a sweet ass ride called, Ginger, it was, I assure you, the height of hometown adventure.  

Not the BBGmobile (aka: Ginger) but as close as I could locate on the interweb. 
And yes.  Yes I did feel compelled to give it racing stripes for historical accuracy.

One night on a dark country road drunken ride (Dear Anyone Reading This~   It is not my intention to put a positive and peppy spin on drunk driving.  On the contrary, I frequently say, "I'm lucky to be alive" and often these, I-didn't-use-better-judgment moments are precisely what I mean.  This is simply a testament to keepin' it real and historically accurate.) we rounded a bend in the road to encounter an across-the-road stretchin' line of creepy ass glowing opossum peepers staring us down with complete and utter impunity.  If 'come at me bro' had been a thing back then, and of course if opossums had the power of speech the mom opossum leading her pack would have 100% hissed it at us.  They held us at bay for (?) 10 minutes in a Opposable Thumbs vs. Prehensile Tail standoff, that we didn't know we'd live to tell the tale of as we sat cut off from humanity huddled in a Chevette.  In the dark.  In the country. 

That nocturnal nature-y memory was what was being bandied about when I abruptly told LEM and Ree to "excuse me.  I'll be right back." as I started to wander upstairs to the kitchen to take a photo of the opossum I have sitting on the side of the sink.  The ceramic opossum that I spied and purchased in a dollar store and has been sitting at my sink for easily the past 20 years.  For perspective sake, I'm not a tchotchke sitting on ever surface girl.  Mainly because more stuff = more cleaning and why the fuck would I wanna set myself up for that?  I'm far too lazy to have to clean 67 things around my counter, so you know this opossum figurine holds a certain level of importance to me.  In fact, it's given me an internal giggle about that night pretty much every time it's caught my eye during otherwise mundane dish wash-y tasks. 

It became even more meaningful to me (if possible) a few years back after a Very Special daytime opossum siting that had one challenging me to a life and death duel for who would reign supreme over man and animal kind causing a slight delay to my arrival at work one morning. 

Unlike my previous opossum-y adventure, I felt my life was in less danger because this time it was personal it was on my city/suburban turf, I had the benefit of sun, and a big ass SUV.  This all should have made for a substantially less my-heart-is-gonna-beat-outta-my-chest commune with the beady eye'd, half monkey/half albino rat creature.  But it did not.  Primarily because this opossum seemed extra mean as it exited a drainage hole (I'm sure they have a real name.  I do not know what it is.) ambled across the street and into my path as it carried a pack of opossum babies clingin' to it's body.   It was a very tense interaction, that by the time I made it to the office evolved into a scenario which involved 23 sketchy opossum babies hangin' from it, and that the obstinate opossum parent had actually flipped me off during our exchange.  (It still warms my heart that one of my co-workers for several [super deeeelightful to me] hours believed that a marsupial flipped me the bird.  ...'Merica, I don't even have the words to convey how much I love you.)

As I entered the kitchen I found myself slightly giddy over snapping a photo to share with LEM and Ree.  I knew they'd love seein' that I still had the kitchen opossum.  Click.  Returned to post the shot...  Which is exactly when I realized I'm a dumbass.  Not only amHave been every damn day for approximately two solid decades.  It's the precise moment I recognized that my prized opossum is, in fact, a muther fuckin' hedgehog.  Honestly?  I was so angered by my discovery that having to clean it up was the only thing that prevented me from marching back to the kitchen, picking it up and smashing it on the floor and into a million pieces.  I'd been hoodwinked by a headgehog! 

P.S. I now must refer to it as Fauxpossum.

I realize that for many folks this would mark the end of a cracked out opossum saga.  Thankfully, I'm not many folks...

Because I enjoy being overly dramatic about random shit, which I always find odd as I'm so likely to downplay actual gasp worthy situations of course I shared my I'm-a-dumbass story with a few people, including my Mom.

On Christmas morn' as I gathered with family opening presents I unwrapped, well, let's just cut to the chase--

THE MOST
MAGNIFICENT PRESENT EVER

Oprah has her favorite things, I have mine. 
(Given to me by Mom's hubby.)

I have no idea what dark corner of the interweb one visits to find a spectacularly crazy opossum with babies figurine, but I am eternally grateful that Mom's husband did.  I also have no idea why a manufacturer actually makes an opossum with babies figurine, but I'm thankful that they do.  To say I'm overjoyed with it would be an understatement. 

If anyone has a weird history with hedgehogs and would like a previously owned hoggy homage, please feel free to email me (thebigbrowngirl@hotmail.com). 

---------------------------------

...And now for the Paul Harvey-y rest of the story? 

I started this post a week or so ago, got busy, had time to consider the ridiculousness of this post, that this made me look a fool it probably wasn't that entertaining of a story worthy of a share and like many a post before didn't bother to finish it

And that was that. 

Until. 

Today when I spied this sign from the universe meme that seemed to be prompting me to bring the tale of the hedgehog to a proper full circle:


(https://twitter.com/Studio360show/status/423563388937961472)
 

Hedgehog Bonus:
Ron Jeremy-Wrecking Ball


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