After seeing an advertisement for Sea Monkeys in a magazine the other day I realized something; I am thankful that I’m not a Sea Monkey. Obviously there are a number of reasons for that thankfulness, not the least of which is that I would probably have not made it to my current age of 30 years and 51 weeks.

Is there anything more terrifying to a newborn Sea Monkey than the site of a hot dog breathed 6 year old? I know that between the ages of 5 and 11 I was responsible for the deaths of countless thousands of Sea Monkeys. There is no doubt that I am on a PETA watch list somewhere right now as some sort of brine shrimp genocidist (I am pretty sure that’s not a word, but this is MY blog, deal with it).

So beside the average lifespan being about 15 seconds, there are other reasons I am glad I’m not a Sea Monkey. The biggest one is probably the fact that they breathe through their feet. I cannot possibly explain to you how glad I am I don’t breathe through my feet. I mean, obviously sandals would become a staple and I would never ever again threaten to kick someone in the ass.

In addition, they have three eyes. Now don’t get me wrong, having three eyes would make me a wizard on the basketball court, and my sense of depth would be uncanny, however; I don’t particularly like being stared at, and the only other creature I would be able to relate to would be the tuatara (a lizard with remnants of a third eye on top of its head…I watch way way too much Discovery Channel).

You are probably wondering, if you have actually read this far, why on earth I am talking about why I am glad I’m not a Sea Monkey. Is it possible I have survivor’s guilt for living to 31 years of age, when none of my childhood Sea Monkeys made it much beyond 31 hours? Perhaps, but that is for my shrink’s couch. Once I make that couch visit, perhaps I can face my fears and order some good ol’ freeze dried Sea Monkey eggs to raise and overcome my past failures.

On yet another side note, are Sea Monkey’s related in any way to Snorks? I always suspected that Snorks were aquatic cousins of the rare and endangered Smurfs, so by raising Sea Monkeys I could possibly be raising distant relatives of Smurfs. How cool would THAT be? Is it possible that I’m the only one who wonders if it was difficult for Smurfs to take their pants on and off with that little stump tail having to line up with the hole? Never mind, I’m wandering a little bit here.

Now back to what I was getting at: If all goes well with therapy, I am thinking Sea Monkey ranch. Sea Monkey herds roaming the open plains in small oval shaped plastic tanks full of special “Sea Monkey Solution,� ah yes, it brings to mind visions of the old west doesn’t it? Maybe I can get whoever funded the Bat Genitalia study to back my ranch.

You can find more information on amazing Sea Monkeys here.