Duck Bills, Worms and Murderous Chickens: A Fortnight To Remember.

•March 11, 2009 • Leave a Comment


"Chickens Think Of Murder All Day!" by, Gina Biancaniello

"Chickens Think Of Murder All Day!" by, Gina Biancaniello

~Visited the Museum of Jurassic Technology. During my visit, I learned about the curative powers of a live duck’s bill when inserted into ones mouth. This is supposed to cure a cough. I also, met a greyhound named Toula, and found the title for the Nine Year Change’s debut album: “Infant Fingernails and the Gift of Song“. Magical, I know

~ I was enjoying a lovely lunch break with a coworker, laughing and giggling about who knows what… and then along comes my boss wearing one of his many pairs of unwelcome denim pants, and carrying a large grocery bag full of his lunching items. He sits down with us and proceeds to talk in detail about school shootings. Lets just say the laughter stopped. Who invited Buzzkillington to the party? Also, he did all of this with some sort of coleslaw sauce in his beard. He is always eating something saucy… or more importantly, just always eating.  Later that day he proceeded to walk into the office while one of my coworkers was using the computer…belch…and leave.  He was on a role.

~I befriended the kid who growls at people.  He thinks my name is Alyssa.  I can’t seem to convince him otherwise. He still growls at people…however, he doesn’t growl at me as much anymore.

~I watched a child violently cough up her lasagna onto her elbow and than eat it off like it ain’t a thang.

~Worms inhabited a large mushroom that was left in kindy over the weekend.  Brown worms.  They made the room smell of decay and  ass.  In the same day two drinking glasses were broken during indoor play time, Satan’s Fetus (the “Potato Bug”)  was sighted and was reported to be looking more and more like an adolescent, and I had to reprimand a child for licking his feet during nap-time

~My drawing skills were challenged by a five year old.  He asked me to draw him a spider, and when I did, he proceeded to cry because he felt it looked more like an octopus.  Seriously?

~I manage to catch another friendly death virus, complete with lots of mucus and coughing.  If only I could acquire a live duck bill to insert into my mouth.

~A child sneezes at the table.  I look over.  He has a boog hanging out of his nose, of course.  Instead of asking for a Kleenex he proceeds to try and slurp the booger from his nose into his mouth.  He is not successful, and soon asks for a Kleenex.

~A child which I fondly refer to as “Benjamin Button”, due to his elderly man appearance (and not in a cute way) decides to pick the nose of his brother “Little Buttons”… and visa versa.  The boogers are then consumed orally by both parties.

~There was an intense attack of BABY VOICES these past few weeks.  Not cute.

~Jumpy (a frequent school visitor of the squirrel species) managed to steal one of my dirty Kleenex’s and abscond with it away to his nest.  It was also brought to the attention of Sarah and I that the preschool teacher has been using dirty tactics in order to gain Jumpy’s affection… she gave him a cupcake.

~THE CHICKENS GO WILD. Hateful and Worthless (real names Lucy and… I don’t remember) mame a dove to the point that the dove has to be rescued and entered into “bird rehab”.  I don’t blame the chickens for being angry… the kid that growls has been found in their pen before chasing them with a stick and trying to hit them…but they have a real murderous streak those ones.  The preschool teacher became fearful after this attack and decreed that she did not think it would be safe to eat their eggs anymore… something along the lines of “bad energy”. Awkward.

~ Within a two day period I witnessed both a beat-down and a mugging… BOTH occurring on the side of the road on my way home from work.  Hood-rats, I tell you.

~I was sent a memo from a friend about something called “Slapcheek Virus” and how it is the newest thing running rampant in schools. Great. It is characterized by some sort of crazy cheek rash… which eventually leads to a full on itchy body rash.  If i acquire this ailment, I think I might just quit.

~Come to the conclusion, due to my boss’ stealthy capasity for lurking and appearing out of nowhere, that I should find a way to attach a cat-bell to him… or perchance fasten taps to all of his shoes.


NOT Dolphin Safe…

•March 1, 2009 • Leave a Comment

There is absolutely no reason to revive the men’s dolphin short. This statement is especially true for anyone who plans on doing physical activity, bending over, or generally being out in public near other people.  I was recently made aware that there was a name for this type of short during an unfortunate “dare you to google..” conversation between Sarah and I.  Seriously.. I dare you all to google “dolphin shorts” and just marvel at the glorious images that pop up.  Go for it.

I had the unfortunate incident of running into a man who had not seemed to receive the “Dolphin Shorts are Inappropriate” memo, and made these shorts his highlighted work out attire of choice.  My gym is more of a freak-show than most, I would have to say.  Our gym is located in the middle of a shopping mall in the San Fernando Valley…a Valley known mostly for it’s hot temperatures and the making and major distribution of pornography.  It is weird going to work out in the middle of a mall… especially on a Saturday when all of the hot people are shoping, eating at reasturants or going to the movies dressed in designer jeans, and you have to walk past them unshowered in your yoga pants and uni-boob making sportsbra, sweating bullets. Real cute.

Anywho… I was on the eliptical machine and I spotted this extremely buff woman wearing short shorts.  The woman walked closer to me, strutting and carrying some hand weights.  As she approached… I noticed that she was definately a HE. This man was wearing perchance the shortest shorts I have ever seen on a male human.  They were about two sizes too small, and even though the man was not fat, it still created some muscular love handle and muffin top spillage.  I couldn’t seem to look away.  He wore a tight tank top, and coupled this ensemble with a non gender specific pair of salmon colored soft nike walking shoes.  Awkward.

I ended up sketching this picture for Sarah later in the day, in order to accurately describe what I had seen:


Oh yes.

Some of my other favorite gym attendees would include:  a man who closely resembles a chubby British version of Gollum, and dresses in head to toe spandex which prominently displays his belly and sagging behind.  A man that closely resembles Sydney Poitier but in VERY tight yoga pants.  Sometimes that man actually makes a costume change halfway through his work-out… and usually does jazercize moves where the weight lifting equipment is, so you HAVE to watch him move it, move it.

Missed Connections

•February 22, 2009 • Leave a Comment

"Awkward Muffins and Exclamations to Jesus In Flight" by, Gina Biancaniello

I detest flying, especially without drugs. On this particular occasion this was my predicament. I had run out of xanex, it was stormy and rainy outside and I had to fly home. I took two benedryl to hopefully take the edge off, but an antihistamine is really no replacement for a strong, habit forming, anti anxiety drug. Who are we kidding. I had received a drink coupon for flying business select, but felt it would be suspicious to use it for booze at 9:55am in the morning. I didn’t want to appear anxious and boozy. Not my style.

I arrived at the airport in ample time to use the restroom (because honestly, who are they fooling with those in air lavatories?) purchase a two dollar pack of generic gum, and then peruse for something to eat. I chose this place close to my gate. They were serving hot breakfast, but something about a bacon and egg breakfast burrito a la airport just didn’t hit me as delish, so I opted for the safer route and picked up a banana nut muffin and a five dollar generic bottle of water. While picking out my muffin, I was being watched. Call me paranoid if you will, but I know when someone is lurking. The perpetrator was what appeared to be a boy approximately age 15-18, Caucasian, and approaching 5ft 11ins. He wore red shorts, and a nerdy t-shirt. His hair was emo-tastic, and he looked like the before picture in a Proactive commercial. His breakfast selection of choice was Cherry Diet Dr. Pepper and a Red Delicious Apple. Weird, I thought. It was only 9:20am, and this guy had picked out soda pop and an inferior breed of apple. I got in line to purchase my expensive muffin and rip off bottle of water, and the lurker got in line behind me. I avoided eye contact. I do that when people lurk. It’s instinctive. After I had paid credit for what totaled to be a nine dollar shitty breakfast, and was signing my receipt I hear the soft mumble of the lurking boy behind me.

Lurking Boy: Uhh… I would like to get hers too, Please.

Cashier: Sir. She has already paid.

Lurking Boy: Uhh. Errr. Okay.

I quickly pack up my wallet and start to walk toward my gate. Did some fifteen year old kid just try to be a stud and purchase me my airport muffin? That was awkward. Maybe I should have said “Thank you, anyway…” or something that acknowledged his existence. I did not do that. I just walked. Perchance crushing his dreams of meeting his future online gf at the Burbank Airport, or maybe prompting him to write a Missed Connections entry on Craigslist, maybe going something like this:

It was 9:22am at the Burbank Airport. You wore the red scarf, the cat boots and the judgemental eyes. I wore red shorts. You looked at my Dr. Pepper. I tried to pay for your banana nut muffin. You ignored me. I think we have something that could be special. If you feel the same way, e-mail me at

Haha. If only.

I finally boarded my plane. It is awkward being someone who likes to sit in the middle seat, and having to get on the plane during the first seating. Usually I just grab and aisle seat, and then when some tall dude tries to sit next to me, I offer him the aisle and take the middle. This makes me look like a good Samaritan, while also getting me the seat I desire. I know, tricky. This is exactly what occurred during this flight. I sandwiched myself between some lady who was reading, and some sleepy business man. It was still raining and really cloudy out, so I was freaking out a little. The benedryl although making me a bit sleepy was not cutting the fear.

As the engines began, and the flight attendants took their seats for take-off, I could hear a conversation between two commuting business men behind me:

Man 1: Did you know, last year a plane crashed on this runway?

Man 2: Really?

Man 1: Oh yeah. The pilot landed short. Ended up sliding into the freeway. A car hit the plane and a child died.

Man 2: Oh man.

Now… C-mon, people. Do you really have to talk loudly and crassly about plane crashes as we are taking off? How settling. I thought more and more about my free booze coupon. What should I order for my last drink? I looked at their menu of drinks, and decided all of their alcohol was crappy and worse than dying sober would be dying drinking bud light. For a while everything was smooth…the flight attendants were attending around the cabin. All of the sudden things changed. I felt like I was in a popcorn popper. The flight attendants were asked to sit down (I always take this as a terrible sign. sure death.) The man sitting next to me was still sleeping…I guess he didn’t know we were about to plummet to our death. Idiot. I tried to read my book. I was doing okay (i.e. holding it all inside and clutching the armrest like a child would clutch the hand of their parent before receiving a set of shots)

The plane made a sudden dip and I lost my stomach.

“JESUS!!” I exclaimed. Complete with flailing hand gestures. I might have overreacted, as the man next to me was still asleep. I grew a little embarrassed about my sudden outburst of blasphemy, and tried to engross myself further into my book.

No dice. I did however mange to not use my drink cupon, and have no further public outbursts. I just quietly paniced…thinking about my own Missed Connections entry to the world:

Dear World,

I was the neurotic girl who exclaimed “Jesus!” on the airplane. I know, I am embarrassed about it, but I was real nervous. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable, or if you are real religious and it was offensive to your sensibilities. I assure you I didn’t mean it in some anti-Jesus way, more just as an exclamation of surprise and fear. Nice knowing you. Wish we could get together sometime for a coffee date or something…I guess there is no need to contact me, as I am now plummeting to my dea…

and then the wheels hit the ground. sigh*

A great success, I’d say.

Love In Disguise

•February 22, 2009 • Leave a Comment


For Valentines Day this year, Peter and I played a little game (of his creation) called “Choose Your Own Love-venture”. Basically you have three different bags and they are all filled with different options of what to do for the day (Morning, Afternoon and Evening) and you pick blindly and just do stuff. So, as our first love-venture we tried this new breakfast place down off of Burbank Ave. It was a real hole in the wall. I ordered the Lox and Eggs, something I would never ever usually order…but I was trying to be a good Jewish gal (I wish.) , so I gave it a go. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was really salty. I also, almost choked on a fish bone. Peter got the Salami and Eggs…I also don’t know what he was thinking, but he seemed to like it.

Next door to this hole in the wall joint was this ultra awesome retro store. We decided to take a peek inside. We ended up leaving with a few purchases… such as sweet ass DISGUISES!! I love disguises. I love costumes. I love it all. So, it was probably one of the best finds ever. It made up for my near death experience with the fish bone at breakfast.

Here is a photo of us in our romantic valentines gear:

disguises1I know….you probably didn’t even know that was us. Don’t worry, it’s normal. It’s just the power of disguise.

We had a nice relaxing afternoon, followed by an even more relaxing evening. We opted not to go out to dinner for Val day since it is always so crowded, and we are never a fan of the fixed menu bullshit. Instead, we ordered in the most romantic of all foods that we could think of: RIBS! Oh yes. Nothin’ says I love you like hands full of BBQ sauce and the sweet gnawing on your own personal carcass. They were tasty.

I guess we are a little unconventional, but I love it.

He is the excessively furry eyebrows and stache to my plastic nose and glasses combo. Perfect.

The Sugar Cookie Gang

•February 22, 2009 • Leave a Comment

1435227926_cd3921480e_oIt was raining. I was running late to work, so I threw on a pink dress that was crumpled on my floor, tights, and rainboots and called it good. I knew that it was going to be a crazy day. Rainy days are always crazy when you are working with kids. This day would be particularly crazy…I could just feel it. It was the Friday before Valentines Day. A love fest celebration full of cookie induced sugar highs, and heart shaped crayon drawings. I got into my car and prepared to drive to work. Before I start my engine I realize that my phone is alerting me to a text message. It’s Sarah. She is sick, and will not be coming in today. Oh boy.

Although I am not surprised by her illness (Honestly, I believe the plague is going around in our classroom. Contagious, gross, and maybe fatal.) I am now slightly more terrified to see what I am going to find when I get to work. I usually do not go in until 11:00am…who were the kids with now? It is raining… how muddy is the classroom? I envision  soaked children, dragging mud onto the carpet with their rainboots, and leaving hand-prints behind on all door knobs and reachable surfaces.

When I arrive, the kids are outside. Yes, in the rain. I inquire as to who had been watching the kids, and I am informed it is the preschool teacher. She is the spaced out spiritual type…the kind who believes in her ability to read your aura, follows a handful of gurus, and has a side business of selling handcrafted archangelic dolls. She lets me know that they have all had a “beautiful picnic together” (it’s raining.) and she has done a puppet play for them. I inform her that the sugar cookies she is frosting seem to be getting soggy from the rain. Delicious. I ring the bell and have the kids come inside to play while we wait for the substitute kindy teacher to arrive.

The kids all were in rare form. I am fairly certain that they assembled a chain gang while I did some of the dishes. There was a big commotion, and what seemed to be plotting and scheming. I had to break up a fight over a wooden rocking board. There was also some talk of “bathroom words” that I had to cut off (“bathroom words” are a real big deal lately…they are all very into them.) .. All in all it seemed to be under control, so I cleaned up the room a bit while keeping an eye out for any potential kindy gang activity. Finally  sometime after noon the substitute arrived. The sub was the previous kindy teacher before Sarah started working at the school this year. She knows the school, and most of the kids pretty well. I do not know her, but it seems like it will all be fine. As soon as she arrived the children start completely going nuts, and taking advantage of her. I know it’s not my place to really do anything at this point in time, so I just cringe and watch as she allows the kids to create a bunch of drama and watch her cater to it all. It’s hard to see your classroom turn into a circus of sorts.

We had story time before lunch. She told a fifteen minute story about some sort of snow fairy or something. All I know is it was long, and it didn’t share the same intrigue as Sarah’s usual story/found object puppet show to The Three Billie Goats Gruff. I knew that if I was losing my interest/ability to sit still that most of the five year olds in the room were two seconds away from freaking out with pent up energy.   Finally the story of the snowy fairy maiden lady comes to an end, and it is lunch time.  Pretty normal lunch, however, one of the children baked sugar cookies for everyone as a valentines day gift.  Other kids passed out their valentines as well.  All the kids ate cookies….right before nap. Not wise. Not wise at all.  I am not even going to go into the details of nap…that is a whole other story.

The rest of my day is sort of just a blur.  Me trying to keep up with a bunch of sugar charged youngsters and not lose my mind completely.  Did I mention there was a bake sale that day after school?  Oh yes.  So, every child in Aftercare was cracked out on sucrose.  This lead to an increase in: screaming, running, unnecessary hitting, name calling, messiness, dangerous ideas, and a surplus of time outs.  I should have had a whistle and maybe some handcuffs for this particular day… or one of those sneaky tranquilizer dart guns.  Oooh.

The last child was picked up around 6:00pm…where I made my great escape.  After being locked in a small room with the sugar-cookie gang for hours, your first impulse is to flee.  Just run.  Don’t look back.  I imagine it’s the same feeling you get when you have a chance to escape an ACTUAL gang, that doesn’t involve getting jumped out…you take that chance.  So, that’s what I did.  I ran.

Sweet freedom.


•February 12, 2009 • Leave a Comment

"Me" As Drawn By Gina Biancaniello (psst..that's me.)

My Week As Documented By The Commonly Asked Question: Seriously?


There is a black widow the size of a plump kumquat lingering above this light-switch I have to turn off. I think I can see the hair on its legs. It better not descend from its creepy webetry and make a home in my bag, only to bite me later (leading to my quick and eminent and most likely painful death) … or worse climb up my nose and lay eggs in there like on some shit you’d see on some crazy medical show. I’ll just run really fast after turning off the light switch. 1…2….3… RUN!


I know it has been raining, but is the size of that mud-puddle those kids are skirting really necessary? It looks like a small bog. Someone is going to fall in. I should say something… “Children…You need to get away from the…” and SPLASH! Two kids down. Too bad nearly everyone has run out of a change of clothes. Little muddy footprints everywhere. Just as long as no one else goes near that mud-….SPLASH! Two more down. Boots full of liquid mud. Time to go inside.


My boss wearing a pair of carpenter jeans. I know, they are not the dressy ones I usually blog about… but… equally as repulsive in their own right. Especially with the magenta sweater he has decided to pair them with. I can’t explain my repulsion to you all.. you would just have to meet him yourself to get it. And why is he always eating something that resembles coleslaw… it’s all messy and in his beard and moustache combo. I think he just stole that kids almonds. My God. Vulture.


It is nap-time on a Monday. I can hear children from the 4th/5th grade class doing a crazy vibrato heavy rendition of one of tunes from Wicked in the assembly hall. OVER and Over. I assume they are doing this performance for the musical assembly on Wednesday. I want to see this gem of a performance… but I will be going to a seminar/class thing on “Bullying In Schools”. Too bad. I am in a two person band called “The Nine Year Change”, and we could have made our debut at this very assembly. I guess our musical genius will have to wait.


I have woken up with a migraine that has caused me to lose vision in my right eye. Terrifying. Panic. I take Imitrex, Advil, Tylenol… I am convinced by the amount of pain I am in and by my current blindness that I am going to have to go to the hospital and get one of those awful shots. It reminds me of this one migraine I got in high school where I couldn’t feel my hands and I vomited up something that resembled raspberry applesauce in the bathroom sink. I gain my vision back in the early afternoon, and manage to watch Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins through sunglasses. I am embarrassed by my migrainial movie choice. And no… Roscoe, you are not welcome in my home. Get out. You were awful.


I have a zit on my nose. It is evolving into something that I think might be qualified as a parasitic twin. It’s eating up my face. Huge. Red. Completely frightening… and oh so tender. Ouchie. Thank God I am a make-up artist… it will now just look like a fleshy colored textured lumpy thing after I work my magic skillz. Much better. Who am I fooling? I am waiting for a five year old to inquire about it.


I missed a documentary show called “My Giant Legs” or something awesome like that. Sarah told me about it. I want to see that. Note to Self: Search for said documentary, and DVR that shit.


A child spends all of outdoor play fake crying on a bench in order to get attention. When that does not work, she SCREAMS as loud as she can at a “bug” that is going to attack her. Nicely played.


I walk into the Hebrew school at which I am attending a class on “Bullying Prevention”… I am in love. There are fifty or so pictures of Rabis in the front hall. Shalom.


I am at a two hour class about “Bullying Prevention” in schools. Fifteen minutes in I kind of want to shoot myself in a combination force of boredom and depression. Cyber bullying freaks me out, btw. My hypothetical fourteen year old would most likely not be allowed on myspace. Our instructor is kind of used to talking to inner city schools, and while I appreciate her enthusiasm, I do not so much appreciate her overuse of the phrase “Mad-dogging.” We get to watch such videos as “Daniel and Dodge-ball” or something like that, where Daniel is picked last even though he was promised a space on one of the teams by one of the captains. It leads to bullying of course… and bad acting. Poor Daniel. I get a certificate for my participation of this two hour process. I really think this class will help me out in Kindy. Those five year olds be Mad-dogging, yo.


A Rainy Chaotic Mess: Satan’s Baby and Me.

•February 7, 2009 • Leave a Comment

"Satan's Baby Singing In The Rain" by, Gina Biancaniello

I have always been a huge fan of the rain. I love the clouds, and the noise the drops make against the windows. I love how it can get almost completely dark in the middle of the day. I love puddle jumping. I love that it makes indoors that much more cozy, and a cup of tea and a movie an ideal accessory. I have really never had any reason not to love the rain…until recently.

As most of you know, I work with kids. Kids+Rain=Messy Chaos. We don’t get much of a chance to play outside on rainy days, if at all… which makes for cabin fever and lots of pent up energy. When we do get to go outside it turns into one big mud party. No mater how hard I seem to try to police the kids and keep them as clean as possible (meaning, not in need of a bath.) it just doesn’t seem to work out in my favor. Yesterday we had a brief window of outside play in the kindergarten, and when we came in for lunch, I looked around the table and noticed that most of the kids had some serious mud splatter issues going on all over their faces. They really got into it.

Lunchtime with kids is something you kind of have to get used to. It can be mildly grotesque. A lot of kids have pretty crazy eating habits (what do you expect though?…they are five.) Lots of open mouth chewing, which leads to food running down chins and onto the table. There is one child that seems completely disconnected to his food while he eats it. He can be shoveling pasta into his mouth and none of it will actually make it in…but rather just recycle back down into his thermos, his lap, and the table. Another child eats like his life depends on it. Literally, like he has never had a meal in his life, and he might not get a chance to eat again. It’s kind of like watching an episode of Kindergarten Fear Factor. He feels he needs to eat every item in his lunch within our twenty or so minutes of lunchtime. When I go to wipe the table up after lunch I can always tell where these kids were sitting. Chunks of pasta, jelly, yogurt, cheese, and weird mushy substances cling to the wood. Although every child has a napkin, I don’t think it is their first instinct to use it. When it is time to join hands and give thanks for our lunch before being excused, I am usually met with greasy and untidied hands…remnants of whatever they were previously chowing on. Yesterday was a special kind of gross. There is a serious flu bug that seems to be going around (another perk of the rainy weather) and the lunchtime table seemed to be a glorified coughing symphony. Pieces of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich being expelled with great force across the table as one of the children barked out a huge cough. This child was sitting next to Sarah, who has managed to actually NOT catch this particular death flu. The cough was indeed so severe and troubling that Sarah picked up her quiche and moved to a seat across the table. As she moved I see her sarcastically mouth to me “We are going to die.” I laughed. It seemed plausible. I just can’t seem to catch a break on the illness front. Immediately after lunch I washed my hands. Twice.

Now, I would consider Kindergarten to be “manageable” chaos during rainy weather… Aftercare is not that manageable. On Thursday we spent the entire stint of Aftercare inside. I was still rather ill, and it was my first day back to work since my sickness had decided to stirke. I was nervous at the sight I would find after walking the kindergarten over to the “Anteroom” where we hold indoor aftercare. Sarah came for moral support. As we walked in the door we were nearly stepping on kids. It was just chaos. You could feel the unruly energy in there. Almost every toy from my toy/art cabinet was out already… just madness.

My helper for the day was the 7th grade teacher. He is an older man, with a mad scientist vibe going on. I went into his office once to find it in complete disarray, holding items such as discarded mousetraps, a stove-burner with a pot that held a beaker inside and multiple books on chemistry. He doesn’t so much talk as sort of bumble. He is completely hard of hearing, and is at first kind of difficult to communicate with. He wears these large framed goggle like glasses, and has an unkempt beard and moustache duo. He rides a ludicrous red motor cycle to work (I was also informed that he used to be a complete chick magnet/ladies man type. Hilarious.) I have come to really enjoy this coworker. I am fairly certain he is a genius of some kind, and he is just a really funny guy.
Anyway, I walk in and some of the first graders were playing a game of “Cats”… I am pretty sure this game just entails one behaving in the way that a cat would behave. There are no rules… you just act like a cat. Well, this teacher was also joining in. He sounded like an elder disgruntled cat whose tail had been pulled: MRREEOWWWW. It was too much. He was swiping and hissing with the best of them. Just a normal day at work.

In other news, we have a new creature living in the sandbox in the Kindergarten yard. A child came up to Sarah and I with one, and nearly shoved the likes of this creepy crawler in Sarah’s face. It was gross looking. It was pale, almost translucent…like a combo of a baby praying mantis and a spider. Sarah started to inform me that it was this creature called “Satan’s Fetus”, and goes off into this completely horrific explanation of what this creature is. I was mortified and intrigued all at once. Did we really have something called SATAN’S FETUS living in our sandbox?! Then towards the end of her description, she mentioned that the more common name for the creature was the “Potato Bug”, to which I was endlessly disappointed. I had seen a potato bug before. I remember as a kid, classmates would find them and call them out as they saw them scurrying in the dirt. However, I did NOT remember how gross looking they were. After looking at a picture of said bug, I believe that anyone who calls this terrifying creature a “Potato Bug” is most likely on some sort of delusional happy glue and should be slapped back into reality…Satan’s Fetus is a much more fitting name for this beast. Plus, I like being able to say that I am coexisting with Satan’s Baby. It makes me sound like way more of a bad-ass.