where wildly different is perfectly normal
Fruit flies, blue goo, and my role in life
Fruit flies, blue goo, and my role in life

Fruit flies, blue goo, and my role in life

Well, nothin’ like writing a depressing post about insomnia and the soul-crushing thoughts that creep through your mind late at night and then just disappear for nearly a week. So let’s go another direction, talk about something entirely different.

Let’s talk about sex.

Specifically, fruit fly sex. Yes, you read that correctly. I can call myself an expert on fruit flies because I had a unit on the life cycle of fruit flies back when I was in second grade. Never mind that that particular unit was thirty-one years ago, I’m on this. We had tubes of fruit flies lined with blue goo. They hatched on the blue goo, they ate the blue goo, they pooped on the blue goo, they surely had a little nudge-nudge at night on the blue goo, and then they died a happy little blue goo death. Circle of life and all that…with blue goo.

Last I checked, I have a house completely devoid of blue goo. And yet the fruit flies appear and have little fruit fly orgies and squeal little fruit fly squeals of delight in little fruit fly labor and delivery rooms somewhere within these walls. They are everywhere, and because it is winter and supplies are scarce in fruit fly world, they are tiny. Tiny enough that when you slap at them everyone else in the room thinks you are either having a seizure or a bad LSD trip. It was like this in Colorado, it is like this here. And I think I know why.

I am a fruit fly badonkadonk magnet. They swarm to me, wanting only to bask in my fruit fly badonkadonkness as they make other little fruit flies. I suppose I should be honored, but frankly I’m a little skeeved out. Little fruit fly hussies. I’d show them all the door, but they’re small enough they’d find a crack and sneak right back in. They know I’m on to them, though. They’re all in hiding, wherever that may be, waiting for my attention to be otherwise diverted before they continue with their little fruit fly key party. I just never figured my lead role in life would be as a fruit fly centerfold.

Or it’s the bananas. Yeah, they’re hitching rides on the bananas. I like that idea a whole lot better.


    1. Jen

      But then…but then how do you explain the fruit fly doing the backstroke in A’s soup the other day? Or the ones in a mass grave under the lampshade? Surely I’m not hallucinating all of this? LOL

    1. Jen

      Agggghhhhh….you’re right. This is what happens when I write late at night when my bed has moved past calling my name and has moved on to screaming at me to get in there already. 😉 Sooo, let’s just go with the spirit of it all, yes? LOL

  1. I’m fairly certain mine are vacationing in my basil plant! It’s infuriating, isn’t it? I just used the last of it in a tomato salad the other night, and I swear they may finally be gone. Sadly, my plant is gone, too. Not sure why, but I think I’m going to scrap my plan to plant more seeds, and I’ll just wait til summer.

  2. I’ve been known to spend Way Too Much Time trying to lure/scare/blow encouragement to get little fruit flies into the paper cone of death (old wine or cider vinegar mixed w/a dot of detergent). Way Too Much Time. I might have even had conversations with them.

Whaddya think?

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