Well, that's a load off my mind

Taken today in Lexington, OK:



This might seem silly to you heathens out there, but the healing powers of The Lord are well-known:



Meanwhile, on a less cheerful note, we also drove past this one today, just outside of Ada:



Now, don't pay attention to what the words say, because that's not the focus here. Or, if you're way into The Lord, by all means pay attention, but then focus elsewhere once you're done reading. WHAT IN THE NAME OF CRAP IS WRONG WITH THOSE HANDS? They're like some sort of awful, twisted claw-hands.



I mean, just look at that. Look at it. Can you do that with your hands? No, because you don't have claw-hands. But you know who does? Scorponok.



WE HAVE TO SAVE JESUS FROM SCORPONOK BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE

HEY SCORPION

NOT SO TOUGH NOW, ARE YA? NICE TRY, BITCH. NOW, YOU'RE DEAD. HA HA HA HA HA HA. EAT DUSTPAN, YOU FOOL.

THE DEVIL IS EVERYWHERE

This fell on my foot when I came in from checking the mail earlier. I think it might have already been dead when it happened, but I wasn't sure.

So I made sure. Stupid nature.

RANDOM SHIT: The Stages of Coping With a Scorpion Attack

BARGAINING:

"Please God, let this dead-ass scorpion not be yellowish, and I'll stop all that blasphemy I've been doing."

Read it all here.

MY ASS

IT HURTS~

Things are tough all over.

So yeah, about an hour or so ago, I was about to go to the store to get various food-type items, and it's in the upper 60s here, so I was kind of pumped that I'd get to wear shorts, instead of long pants. But you see, God didn't want me wearing shorts today. Because you see, God saw fit to put one of his many wondrous creatures in the shorts I had chosen to wear. And yeah.

I got stung in the ass by a fucking scorpion.

A quick consultation of the internet and an examination of the beast, who had been felled by a blow from the bottom of a plastic wastebasket, revealed that it wasn't the yellowish kind that'll kill you, (and I think you can actually find those in Oklahoma, so there was a decent amount of tension in the air when I went to compare the dead scorpion with the pictures I found) but even the reddish kind still hurts like hell. So here I am, with what's basically the bee sting to end all bee stings on my left cheek, concealed by an ice pack, because that's supposed to help break down the venom or whatever. In a little while, I shall go put on some different shorts (which will be shaken thoroughly beforehand) to go see if there's a non-drowsy form of Benadryl, not so much because I really need it as because I just found out that the bottle I already had expired in 2003.

Today's lesson is "fuck scorpions."