maybe i should've kissed it first

ha! i remembered! i promised to blog about why the lanai story is important. but now it seems trivial and silly.

(this is why you should blog the moment you feel like blogging. memories and linked emotions fade fast, quite unlike irritating, nonsensical pop hits with repetitive lyrics.)

on second thought, the trivial and silly are all i write about.

and so . . .

it was one cold evening in december. i was deeply engrossed in whatever it was i was watching (so engrossed, in fact, that i cannot remember what the show was) but needed a glass of water (gas a yater, according to juanch) downstairs.

as i approached the top of the stairs, i saw . . . something.

it was brown and spotted and it looked very much like a FROG.

mind you, i am not deathly afraid of frogs -- unlike certain friends, who will be indebted to me for preserving their honor by not naming them -- but there was just something creepy about having a frog INSIDE THE HOUSE.

i wasn't wearing my glasses, so i wasn't too sure about my first guess. it was either a frog or a pile of crap so you can imagine why i really needed to check. with the grace and lightness of a prima ballerina with massive thighs, i leaped across the room to grab them. the glasses, not the thighs.

i tiptoed back, armed with clear vision and a trembling heart, and stared at the suspect.

i confirmed it. it was a motionless but live frog that blended amazingly well with the wooden floor.

my mind raced: how the hell did it get in??? the third lanai, of course! there must've been a hole somewhere (this is when you can say, "ah! so that's why the lanai story is important." you can choose to leave out the "ah" bit). how in the world am i supposed to catch it??? a pail. dirty clothes. a shoebox. a shoe. a pillow. the potted plant. what will i do if it jumps on me??? die.

so i did what any med-school graduate would've done to solve the problem. i used my mobile phone to call my dad who was in his room on the first floor. i would've just screamed but i was afraid the earless frog would hear me.

"there is a frog here!" was my half-whispered, half-wailed cry of help that was supposed to provoke sympathy and immediate action, not an incredulous, "how can you be afraid of a frog?!"

thankfully, my father went up the stairs (smirking), casually grabbed the trespassing amphibian using just a tiny plastic bag, and threw prince charming out the front door (i assume).

and that, boys and girls, is why your phone battery should always be fully charged.