The other night, my husband insisted on leaving the TV on a show about great white sharks and other scary killers before bed, because, apparently, it’s really fun to see how high pitched my terror-ridden squeals can get before I revert back to begging him to change the channel.
And watching that show, I informed Tom, as I have many times before, that I NEVER want to go to Australia.
“They have all the worst stuff in the world there. TONS of deadly spiders, snakes, Salt-water crocs, and great white sharks,” I informed him. “That place is the stuff of nightmares.”
“I’ll change the channel in a second,” he replied.
Too late. Damage done. We were already hearing about the salt-water crocodile. Apparently it can get up to 23 feet long and weigh as much as 2 tons, which is just under half what an adult elephant weighs.
And that’s not all. They also like to watch their prey for weeks to establish their routine and be sure they strike at the right time.
“Pre-meditated murder,” I gasp. “Great. Wonderful. The biggest, scariest crocodile in the world, that you aren’t even safe from at the beach, just also happens to be smart enough to PLAN your death! UUUH! I am NEVER going to Australia.”
To which Tom only said, with no small amount of awe in his voice, mind you, “Dinosaur….”
At this point I was staring at Tom. “Something is wrong with you,” I thought.
I always knew he liked dinosaurs and thinks it’s cool that crocs, gators, and komodo dragons are pretty much dinosaurs still roaming the earth, but I mean, we were talking about a crocodile- a giant crocodile- that plans your death for weeks. NOT cool.
Just to be clear, the closest I’m getting to the “land down under” is cheese fries and steak (all with ranch dip/dressing) at Outback Steakhouse. I have no idea if that’s very Australian or not, but I do know I don’t care.
It’s delicious. And it won’t bite me.