The day clams ruined me

Last week, after reading what I had to say about my genes (here), my mom explained that my obesity genes are actually more like survivor genes — that back when food was scarce, the bodies that stored fat were the bodies that survived. This new information got me doing some mirror quality self reflecting, and I realized I’m nothing more than a high-functioning Neanderthal. Think about it!

My foot skin is dyed permanently dirty! I have the speaking skills of… a dumb little girl who speaks badly! I find shaving counterproductive! Seeing old ladies pooping in their front yards in broad daylight ain’t faze me! I was born to be a cave woman, for heaven’s sake!

I'm happier to be in this cave than you'd think. I'm also less orange than you'd think

After deciding I was a cavelady stuck inside the body of a 21st Century lamelady, I wanted to connect with my prehistoric self. The first step, of course, was to hunt and gather my own lunch. And, since I live near the ocean, I figured I might as well take advantage of my resources and go fishing.

Armed with poles and store-bought squid, my friend Curtis and I set sail in a couple of kayaks, and started catching flounder by the buttload. Though most of them weren’t long enough to keep, they would’ve been if I were hungry and Neanderthally enough.

As I thought about how awesome and resourceful I was, Curtis reminded me that we’d had lots of semi-modern day technologies – fishing poles, kayaks, etc. – to help us out. Without them, said that mofo Curtis, we probably wouldn’t have caught anything.

Me: Sho you right.

Curtis: Always is.

Me: Les do dis right… We’ll go clamming!

Curtis: A fine idea.

So we clammed. Curtis, my brother-in-law Matt, and I all went clamming. And we sucked.

We were there for more than an hour, and we came home with a dozen dime-sized quahogs. Not quite a feast, but certainly some quality protein. Still, I wasn’t satisfied. I wanted to prove I was a survivor — I wanted to prove I could sleep in a cave, poop on the ground, and most importantly, live off the land if I had to. So, I went clamming again.

Turns out, unless cavemen had doctor’s offices and antibiotics, I wouldn’t do so great.

At first, the second trip to the mud flats went better. I wasn’t using any tools – just my feet, knees, and hands – and I was doing well. All it took was some stomping, kneeling, and clawing to produce a perfectly edible quahog. I was a good cave woman! My mom was right!

That night, I had a delicious dinner of clams Stop ‘n’ Shop pork tenderloin and potato chips. (You ever eat clams? Those bastids is narsty).

That following day, I had a delicious case of saltwater chiggers. (A.K.A. sand fleas). (A.K.A. larvae that sneak under your skin and suck your blood for months).

THEMS IS BUGS! If QT were here he'd have to check me all... over. All. Over.

My right knee broke out in a patch of blistery bug bites so bad it required a visit to the doctor’s. If my susceptibility to nature’s wrath isn’t enough to tell me I wouldn’t have survived a couple hundred thousand years ago, my trip to the Dr. Lloyd is.

Dr. Lloyd: Hello, you girl. What’s wrong today?

Me: I went clamming the other day and I think some bugs are living inside my skin. The internet says “maybe.”

Dr. Lloyd: Hmm. Never seen this before. What else does the internet say?

Me: That’s about it.

Dr. Lloyd: Is it itchy? Does it hurt? How bad does it hurt, on a scale from 1-10?

Me: Uhh… Five. Sometimes. A five, sometimes.

Dr. Lloyd: TEN IS DEATH.

Me: Oh! Three then.

Dr. Lloyd: Okay then, liar. Three it is. Well. Is your groin sore at all? Any swelling?

Me: Get your mind out of the gutter, old man.

Dr. Lloyd: Is your lady part throbbing? The area near it, at least?

Me: Yeah it’s sore. And let’s go with a two.

Dr. Lloyd: Huh?

Me: A two! The pain’s a two, sometimes.

Dr. Lloyd: Let’s keep it at a three. You have an infection, here’s a prescription for an antibiotic. It’ll probably cause a really bad, really itchy rash.

Me: Thanks, doc!

So… turns out I’m not very good at hunting and gathering. Bet you I could poop on ground with the best of them, though.

No cave lyfe 4 me

P.S. There are two 2ge+her references in this post. Who can find them!?

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4 thoughts on “The day clams ruined me

  1. averyangryalterego

    this article is fucking amazing! truly real life is comedy! you got yourself a new subscriber and please make sure you keep posting funny shit like this one okay! if it helps, good luck with the ground-pooping!

    Reply
  2. Pingback: Debt freedom: It’s finna suck « classygallie

  3. Pingback: Debt freedom: It’s finna suck | classygallie

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