
Actually two fears: one started as a small child, one has developed over time. The first is understandable, the second is weird. When I was about four years old I was playing soccer in my parent’s backyard. I was running to get the ball when I tripped into a small hole. It turns out that hole was FILLED with yellow jackets. Dozens of them swarmed around my head. They were in my shoes, under my shirt, crawling in my ears. I started SCREAMING at the top of my lungs. Not a yell, not a cry, but a SCREAM. My neighbor came first, then my dad. I remember him ripping off my shirt and they were crawling all over me. I don't know how many times I was stung, but it had to have been at least 40. Over the years, the fear has subsided quite a bit, but I still get taken a back when bee's come at me out of nowhere. My goal is to wipe out an entire bees nest someday. Call it sweet, sweet revenge.
Now for the second fear. I must start by apologizing. This might offend some of my more politically correct friends. I have a deep and seething fear of midgets. There: I said it. It's out in the open. If I ever run for president, you can take this blog and use it against me. For some reason, they scare me. My mom, friends, and everyone in between tell me this is "mean." I understand. But that doesn't make the fear go away. It all started with a dream some years ago that I was being attacked in my sleep by a midget with large knives. It got worse after watching the movie Chucky. Ever since then, it's been bad. I hope you'll forgive me.





