Gardening Woes.

I'm back in South East Asia. Singapore right now, to be exact. The flight from Melbourne was bittersweet. Bitter in the sense that it took an extra hour and a half because the plane had to go around the stupid ash cloud, sweet in the sense that I talked a fair bit with the person sitting next to me. It's always good when people are friendly. She bought orange juice on the flight and shared it with me. But then again, she had bad breath so sometimes talking to her was a pain. Bittersweetbitter then, I guess.

I need to rant about gardening. I swear, gardening is an activity created by the Dark Prince of Hell himself. It is filled with vile evil, I tell you. It's got so much evil inside of it that if you added just the slightest bit more of evil to it, it would explode and fill the world with pain and destruction. Kinda like Pandora's box, except it's gardening.

(The words "vile evil" are interesting, don't you think? Y'know, because they've both got the same letters and are next to each other.)

Here's why gardening is filled with vile evil: I was doing gardening and I got a rash from it.

Now this isn't any little ol' rash that you can refrain from scratching knowing that it'll go away in like 10 minutes. No. That wouldn't be worth my time. This is obviously a rash that had an overdose of Bad-Assery Hormones while it learned Wing Chun from Ip Man and trained under Chuck Norris. Note: this is not the rash that tormented Anakin Skywalker and turned him evil; no, this is that rash's evil mother-in-law.

This tiny but extremely deadly rash started of by turning my hands bumpy and red and itchy. And then it proceeded to spread. And now almost my entire body is covered with the stupid thing. It's so itchy, a jedi master could wave his hand in front of my face saying "you will not scratch", and I would still scratch it. The dark side is strong in this one. Wait no, it's not "strong in this one", it is this one.

Oh and it's not just itchy and red and bumpy. My hands and knees started to swell. That would be fine if I had particularly shapely hands and knees (Digression: Is it possible for knees to be shapely?), but nooooo, I have the stubbiest, most unshapely hands in the world. At the end of it all, my hands looked like red, bumpy mittens. Y'know, like the kind you use to take a tray of freshly baked cookies (mmmm, cookies....) out of a hot oven. Except they're not mittens, they're my hands.

At this point I would like to remind you of the fact that I tend to exaggerate ever-so-slightly while typing these posts, but I do assure you that this was perhaps the most Bad-ass Rash that human history has ever encountered.

As you touch the rash, you would realise that it is warm. Heat emanates from it. It's as if it stores raw energy in it, like the full power of the sun. Except it's not the sun, it's a rash. Not just any rash, mind you. Reread second part of above paragraph.

Anyway, my point is rather simple. Gardening is dangerous. Okay goodnight world.