News About My Death

It's the weekend! Two days of sunshine, shitty public transportation, and seemingly endless hours of sleep to catch up on.

I definitely got my fair share of sleep because when I finally got the courage to open my eyes, my cell phone informed me that it was almost noon. Yikes. I guess not everyone can be respectable members of society--some of us have to sleep in and not shower and be edgy.

There are two things that I'd like to mention in this post:

1. After getting ready, K and I decided to walk to Sprouts and get some sandwiches. If you have a Sprouts near you and you haven't taken advantage of their sandwich making skills, you have a problem. Kody got one with bacon and I decided to be super popular and get a veggie sandwich. Brussels sprouts? YUM. I could also probably mention that my entire life I've thought it was brussel sprouts and not brussels sprouts.

Once the sandwiches were made we picked out some beverages and chips. I kept on with the healthy theme and decided on veggie chips and water.

To top it all off we ate on some grass, in the shade of a tree. The meal and the environment in which we ate it, were delicious.

2. It has come to my attention that I have been bit by a spider. The bite is located on my ankle. It's very big and swollen.

All of this would not be such a big deal if it weren't for the redness, the poison leaking out of the bite (leaking is a gross word, I apologize), and the fact that the skin where the bite is IS FALLING OFF.

I can only assume the spider who bit me looked like this.
Source

I am wholly convinced that my death is imminent. That's right I'm So Dead readers, after just two posts, the writer will be kicking the bucket.

I called my parents for their advice (because in situations like these, the best answers are from authority figures, like my father who likes to watch West Side Story every week and eat the weird Pringles flavors) and this happened:

Mom: Wait, what happened to her?
Dad: She got bit by a spider and scratched it and fucked up her skin.
Mom: Tell her to leave it alone!
Dad: I think you should go to a doctor.

And even though my parents have given me sound advice, I am more scared of my female, Russian doctor than dying by poisonous spider.

My doctor is what I want to be when I grow up. She has a silver bob with bangs (very modern), wears red lipstick, and always wears black knee-high boots. Always. Every appointment I've been to she has worn a different pair of black boots. Some heeled, some not, all bad ass.

But she is very Russian and therefore frightens me.

If I were to go in for this spider bite, she'd look at me and say, "Aye (pronounced EYE), iz nothing. Go home."

This is my good bye post. If anyone I know happens upon this around the announcement of my death, please let Kody know I want to be buried in my tiger shirt and I want Julia Nunes to perform at my funeral.

Happy Saturday!

-Brit

P.S. If by any chance I don't die within the next 24 hours, expect a post about what I like to wear during Rag Week and maybe I'll share some music. (Did I mention I'm a musician?)