I suppose some people would find it odd that I have a dead lizard, glue-dipped and coated with glitter on my desk. I don’t think so. He’s more like sun-baked lizard jerky, and he doesn’t stink. Much. Just don’t get your nose too close. Anyhooooooo… his name is Lloyd. Yes, I’ve named a piece of lizard jerky. Is that a problem? Ok, ya. You’re probably shaking your head. Whatever. Judgy people rarely understand things. Just sayin.’
Lloyd reminds me that people love me. And frankly, that’s good enough for me. Not that he reminds me in a way that he stands up on occasion and waves his tiny little T-rex arms and says, “Hey Lynn, people love you.” That would just be silly. Think about it. His arms would break off. And lizards don’t talk. Especially dead ones. Plus the glue is probably keeping his mouth shut. My husband would probably say I should be more like the lizard. And then I would say my husband is a dick. But he would never say that. (actually he totally might)
Sooooo… how in the hell does a dead, glitter-crusted lizard remind me that I’m loved?
I have a cousin I didn’t know very well when we were growing up. We lived on opposite coasts, and our interaction was limited to a handful of family visits over the years. (Get your mind out of the gutter. There was no cousin hanky panky. You’re gross.) Well, this guy had the sense to marry a really cool chick. And through the magic of Facebook (to be referred to as fb from now on, cuz I’m lazy), his wife and I have found that we are sisters, separated at birth. Ok, not for real. Because that would mean my cousin married his first cousin. And we’re not in Tennessee, people. So I’m pretty sure that shit’s not legal. But you get the picture. She and I have the same warped sense of humor. And will probably be the only person to really love this post.
My newfound sister/cousin lives in Alabama. Wait, marrying your cousin might be legal there. Oh, never mind. So where they live, they have lizards everywhere. And they seem to be unlike our California lizards, who have the sense to hide under a rock when it gets hot. Alabama lizards are just stupid. Right? I’m not getting judgy. It just seems that way to me.
So she mentioned one day that they had an abundance of dead, crispy, stupid lizards around. And out of a fb conversation, she and a few of her fb friends and I decided she should start a business, bedazzling lizards and making earrings, Christmas ornaments and lamps out of them. Ok, I realize the lamps are a stretch, but have some imagination, folks. Jeez. Helloooo… there you go with the judgy thing again.
Well, she’s a busy momma, and over the course of a few months, we kept offering her business plan addenda (totally the plural for addendum, I looked it up), and she kept telling us that plans were “on hold.” Frankly I can’t understand why. I can’t think of a single person who couldn’t use a glitter-dipped Tiny-T-Rex, or two. Or five. Right? This just seemed like a missed opportunity. Someone there was going to see the need to find a use for the abundance of crispy, stupid-lizards scattered all around, and was going to steal the idea. Then she’d be totally screwed. And JEEZ, think of the possibilities of line extensions, into, say the crispy armadillo market. God, I’m a genius.
So after months of encouraging her, we all gave up. It was the holidays, and we figured that even though she’d totally missed the market for crispy sparkle-dipped baby T-Rex ornaments, perhaps we could pick up the campaign after the first of the year, and get her to tap the Easter market. I mean, seriously, little lizard-jerky-on-a-crucifix Christmas ornaments couldn’t hold a candle to mini-T-Rex-Easter-bunny basket favors. Am I right?
So the holidays passed, with visions of glitter-dipped, crucified lizards dancing in my head. But as soon as the dust settled on New Year’s Day, I caught some nasty cough, fever, head cold thing. I literally coughed one of my lungs out. Ok, not literally. That’s gross. And I’d choke. But I was sick enough, that for a couple of days I didn’t get out of bed. Which in hindsight, totally doesn’t suck. And I recommend it, except for the sick part. That sucked. But I had plenty of fb time while I was stuck in bed. So everyone enjoyed my tales regaling my body aches and boogers. In hindsight, probably not.
As I was starting to feel better, I received a small, beautifully-wrapped package in the mail. My crazy sister/cousin sent me a get-well-lizard, that I promptly named Lloyd. Her kids had decorated his little box. Which I guess is technically Lloyd’s coffin. They decked it out it so beautifully; totally befitting of a lizard that looked like Liberace’s baby T-Rex baby brother. Lloyd seemed like a fitting name for Liberace’s less attractive, yet equally flamboyant sibling. And I imagined Liberace probably smelled much like Lloyd. So Lloyd it was.
I’d never felt so loved… a hand-made get-well lizard, just for me. Don’t be jealous. Some day you’ll be able to buy one. When she finally gets her business off the ground. If the truth were known, her husband (my cousin) is probably holding her back… some overly pragmatic reason, I’m sure. That shit runs in the family. He’s *just* like me. Super pragmatic. Yes, I know what pragmatic means. Stop. laughing.
So there you go. Whenever life starts pissing on my parade, Lloyd waves his tiny T-Rex arms (not really) and reminds me how lucky I am.
P.S. My sister-cousin assures me that marrying your first cousin is prohibited in Alabama. Marrying your second cousin is a-ok, however. If this knowledge has opened up the dating pool for y’all, you’re welcome!
P.P.S. to read more about Lloyd, go here.
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