Qui me amat, amet et rēptilem meum.

Translation: Love me, love my reptiles.

It's a well-known fact that I don't want kids. I don't get giddy over babies or toddlers or the cute things they supposedly do. What most of you define as adorable I define as stinky, noisy and nagging. Oddly enough, I was always the one volunteered to babysit or help with Sunday School (thanks, Mom, on both accounts), and apparently I did all right because they kept me at it. Most likely it was because I was free.

But give me a scaley green creature and I'm in love. They're more like kids that you think - the babies have big, lopsided heads, they eat with their mouths open, sometimes they poop in funny places. Let me introduce you to some of ours...

This is my frilled dragon, Dexter. I have another named Rudy. They are very docile. To get him to flare his frills we actually held a ball python in front of his cage. :) They never bite. They are attentive and curious and super cute - if you walk by their cage they will hop over to see what's happening. They eat crickets and actually dip their heads into their water bowls to drink, like a dog. I won't actually know that they are male or female until they are full grown, but you guys know I have a track record for "mis-diagnosed" pets...

We have three prehensile-tailed skinks. These are really interesting reptiles. They come from the Solomon Islands, are a delicacy there and exportation has become illegal recently. Their skin has an irridescent sheen. They are lucky I like them - they'd make a gorgeous pair of heels, and maybe a good jerky. They give birth to live young after a 6-8 month gestation period; like humans, they have one at a time unless they are twins or triplets. They mate for life and if you separate them from their partner chances are they won't breed again.

Conan has three water monitors. If handled properly (a lot) at a young age, they can become great pets and are as smart as a small dog might be. If they are not handled well they can turn out like the one that got loose in the pet store when my mom, Rita, Veronica and I were there (Vero and I booked it outside and left them to their own defenses - mostly screaming and running in circles).

This is one of our Green Tree Pythons. They are some of the most beautiful, exotic-looking snakes I've come across. They are typically not the most docile of reptiles but we have been lucky with both of ours. Lucky meaning, Conan will handle them while I watch! I don't mind handling most of our reptiles but things I know may bite make me jumpy, whereas Conan has a much calmer demeanor. He's like, the Reptile Whisperer or something.

Our panther chameleon died from kidney failure earlier this year. :*( Conan was in Malaysia when this little guy took ill so I took him to the exotics vet. We hadn't named him and the pushy receptionist wouldn't let me check in without a name, so I dubbed him Bob. Lame for something so cool, but I don't do well under pressure (reason #187 not to have kids - they'd turn out Hermes Reginald or Sophie Maleficent or something equally bizarre). But when she took him into the back she said, "Time to go, Bob the Panther." That sounded way better, like he was in Hell's Angels or something. Just missing the leather jacket.

And on top of this all, Conan wants to get a Jack Russell Terrier. If you look them up on YouTube.com all you will find are videos of them trying to eat sprinklers and showerheads and hoses or running full-speed and jumping into things. Like, walls and glass door type of things. They are reputed for attacking & eating cats (seriously). They are the stereotypical "go to work and come home to shredded pillows and toilet paper and couches" dog. Of course, they are supposed to be brilliant and well-behaved with extensive training. Hah.

p.s. Here's what the water monitors will look like:

Tu fui, ego eris.

Translation: What you are, I was. What I am, you will be.


I never really pursued school the way I should have. I mean, REALLY pursued it. I completed a vocational school course to become a paralegal and have a few units at the friendly neighborhood CC, but as of yet I haven't persevered to get that elusive B.A./B.S. - mostly because I still haven't the slightest idea of what I wanna be when I grow up.

So. Some of you know of my postmortem plans, some not so much. Some really wouldn't care to.

I am donating my body to the University of Tennessee Forensic Anthropology Facility, aka "The Body Farm". Ever since hearing of this place a few years ago I've known that this is what I want to do. It's pretty rad - they place corpses in various environments (i.e. shallow graves, cement blocks, burned vehicles) to study all aspects of the remains (i.e. trauma, decomposition rate, entomology) for the bettering of science.

There can be a headstone somewhere in an actual cemetery, I guess, for those folks who may need a place to grieve (if they exist, heh). Come to think of it, I have always wanted one of those huge angel headstones with eyes that follow you as you walk by.

And engraved at the base, "Tu fui, ego eris."

Moral of the story: I'll make it into a university, eventually.

The Body Farm

More on The Body Farm

These people look like fun