The life of a neurotic spastic

I hate things touching my ears. Grillerig just thinking about it. Hate the sound that anything makes when it comes near or touches my outer ear. I can't wear ear plugs; I could never let a doctor put the probey-light thingie in my ear during medicals. I also do not find getting my hair washed at the hairdressers relaxing... ESPECIALLY when they fish the shampoo foam out with their fingers, or spray the water directly into my ear. My toes curl up as I try not to cry or scream out loud. I don't like it, but my mother finds it amusing to watch.

There is a point to this introduction.

Now let me set the scene. Today I wore my new black schoenen. Beautiful - and not bought from the dodgy stalker salesman. They're the first heels that I've invested in this year. I smaak 'em stukkend. Because I was wearing my new pretty shoes, I had also made an effort for work today. I looked hot.

On top of that, I had been presented with a bottle of champagne for a successful first month at work and making a placement within that first month.

Right.

So I was waiting at the bus stop, looking hot, clutching my bottle of champagne with pride, when suddenly... "bbbbzzzzzzzzbbb".

A flying ant had found its way into my earhole. Much squealing, flapping and flailing of arms (which involved gently smacking the champagne bottle on the bus stop), I managed to hook the offending insect out. I get a twitch just thinking about it now.

Urgh, yuck, gross. Then I noticed ALL the flying ants around me - and a few more in my hair. Once something finds its way into my hair, its generally chosen its method of death. Nothing finds its way out my hair. Seriously. I've lost office stationery in there. Which means that getting the crawling critters out of my hair was not easy. Shaking and flicking the head only further entraps them.

So now picture it - me, on the verge of tears and wanting to puke, whimpering like a hungry puppy and twitching like a spastic. So much for looking hot, neh?