Out here in nature, I’m just a super laid back chick. Not only am I cool with wearing sweats, but I’m totally down with sweating in front of the guys. Anyway, no biggie, but a couple of miles ago I got bitten on the hand by a coyote.

Wow are you guys taking in the majestic beauty of nature? This is the only cure I need!

Also, I didn’t pack any medical supplies because I didn’t want to be “that girl” who overpacks for a short hiking trip. You know, that girl who packs high maintenance stuff like “makeup” or a “first aid kit” because she’s so self-conscious about puncture wounds from a feral animal.

Anyway, I was just snacking on my beef jerky (yup, none of that girly dried mango shit for me!) when that coyote jumped out of nowhere and chomped at my hand for some paleo goodness. Other girls would’ve freaked out, but lucky for me, nothing gets under my skin. Except, I suppose, the sharp incisors of a coyote.

Oh, man, I can feel the weight of city stress falling behind me. Or perhaps that’s the sensation of pissing my pants from the coyote incident. That’s how relaxed I am.

Actually, does anyone have a bandage? Not that I’m worried–I’m not dramatic like other girls. Other girls would call an ambulance just to make sure a random animal didn’t give them rabies or something over the top like that. Those girls LOVE drama and I’m the opposite of drama. I’m like The Simpsons and those girls are like the Crock-Pot episode of This is Us. Those girls are all “I need antibiotics!” and I’m all “Wow I’ve never seen my hand swell to the size of a couch cushion before. Don’t have a cow, dude!”

Look, guys, please don’t look so concerned. It’s not like I have it as bad as that dude in 127 hours, okay? I don’t sweat the small stuff, like cutting off a limb. Or going on a hike with her new boyfriend and his friends the day before her LSAT.

You know what I’m just gonna curl under this tree. Yeah, I’m more mellow than Chloe Kim tweeting about food during the Olympics. But instead of tweeting, I’ll be on WebMd looking up symptoms for septic shock. But like, in a chill way!

On second thought, maybe calling a park ranger is a good idea and I should get it checked out. But I’m only agreeing to this because you guys insist that this tiny, gushing wound looks life-threatening.

But please, don’t call a medivac helicopter. I’m not the kind of girl who likes to draw attention to herself.