Some History. Once in college when Handsome Husband was a mere age of nineteen, he thought it would be hilarious to put his pet tarantula (yes; that's a story for another blog) on his chest and chase me around his house, yelling, "Has anyone seen my spider?!" I ran for cover and growled psychotically, "If you come ANY closer to me--I'm breaking up with you. I mean it, freak!" Needless to say, he put the giant devil pet back, and was angry I called him a freak. (Well, do YOU know anyone who wears a tarantula?! Don't answer that--I don't wanna know.)
Spectacular Spider. Yeah, yeah, yeah--they're amazing, serve well our ecosystem, and kill bugs blah blah blah but they also stalk me. That's right. I swear--with Hubby as a witness, spiders seriously try to jump on my head or hang out in my pillowcase. It's like...they KNOW. And, I have a spidey-sense--as in, I know when they're around me. The worst part is, they're like, always around. I firmly believe, that they play tricks on me. Since we've moved to a new city, I can't tell you how many times I've been the butt of a spider trick. For example, once at 2 am, I had to pee but something made me turn on the light and there, sitting on the toilet, was a spider. I swear it looked up at me, shook four of it's fists and said, "Don't you people have any respect?! If you even dare think about squishing me, I'll call for reinforcements!" So, I did what any logical person would do, and trekked down the hall to use the other toilet. Similarly, I threw out this pirate spider that was in the curtain (yes, there are spiders called pirate spiders that are jumpy and aggressive but little) and I dumped it on the doorstep. I tell you--it turned around and looked at me, then turned back around and jumped down the threshold and heaved, "GEEZE!" sadly. No joke.
Creepo, the Spider. I just know there are many stories many of you can think of, as to how I freaked out about a little tiny (but deadly) arachnid. I decided to write about it because uh...I know I have a problem but, I'd rather laugh at it than fix it. Here goes: last week I was lying on the ground enjoying play time with kids when suddenly, a giant 6-eyed, furry, nasty spider beast steps out from under the toy bin. (I am pretty sure a cotton ball blew by to suffice for a tumbleweed. Anyway, how creepy is that--hiding behind children's toys?! SHADY. Real shady. So I tried to remain calm and talk sensibly. "Get OUT of here, Spidey, or you'll meet your maker right quick!" (and yes, I did my best Texas accent, hoping to deter the creep). For a moment, Creepo hesitated but decided to hold it's ground. "Ohh, a TOUGH guy huh? Let's see how you like...THIS!" (I decided Texas wasn't working, so I switched to Jersey. The kids laughed hysterically and watched fearfully--for my mental health--wondering why their mother was engaging in a conversation with a dime-sized creature.) BAM! THWAP! I swatted It like Batman with a Jersey edge...with my Croc. "MWAMWAMWAHAHAA!! Unphased, GIANT!" it bellowed from behind the Riddler's car. Stupid worthless rubber shoes. What good are you? You're like wearing wiffle balls made out of rubber.
"Alright you--now it's time for REALS--I'm getting the broom!" It trembled, "NOOOO!!! NOT the BROOM!!"
But just before I could slaughter it, HH (Handsome Husband) walked in and looked at me quizzically. "Hon...?" The kids informed her that "Mama was arguing with Creepo, the Spider." He shook his head and said, "I'll get it." Yeeeah--I have a rule: DON'T let HH get the damn spider. Why, you ask? Because by "get it" he means trap it in a cup, and humanely throw it outside but what actually happens, is he doesn't really try and he drops the blood sucker, it blends in with the carpet, and lies in wait again for my demise. "NO! I'm killing it and that's that!"
HH jumps in. "I won't drop it," he says. "You will drop it," I say. He drops it and it runs into the vent by MY computer. "GAA!!! I KNEW IT!" Since then, I've been hearing this little evil voice cackling to itself from the vent. It probably lives in the basement now, where it's breeding thousands of Hellion spider soliders, and developing its own Third Spider Reich, and it's only a matter of time before they ambush me.
And because I'm loopy and writing this going off three hours' sleep, I've created an easier way to understand my feelings on the matter, courtesy of Thundercats. (I play Liono--obviously, and this tragic woman. She's scarier than the spider.)
How I look when I see a spider:
This is how all spiders look to me (like giant hairy death beasts):
How all spiders look, to Handsome Husband:
How I look when I am trying to figure out how to kill it like a genius, without crunching it:
It doesn't always work. "No! I can't...crunch it--it's minions will DESTROY me--it's little legs will... creep me ouuuut! I...just...caaaan't!"
The look on all of your faces because you don't understand why I'm using Thundercats cartoons:
(Stop trying so hard; I already told you--THREE hours' sleep. This crap is hilarious to me right now...except this woman's face bothers me. Like I should know her but I don't so I feel kinda...bad?)
How I feel when I wield my broom to destroy the Demons of Doom:
It's true; I'm kinda nuts. But in any case, hopefully it made you feel less crazy (don't pretend you're all "normal" and "safe" and whatnot though; just wait until you have kids, stay at home, and suddenly find yourself saying words like, "hobbies", "bottom", and "potty." Then soon enough, you'll be writing about your own crazy life...I look forward to reading it.
Moral of The Story: Spiders are evil. Thundercats still kick ass even though Liono definitely had some...rather Freudian (not to mention hair) issues. But most of all: DON'T write when you're under the influence of no sleep. It gets dangerous...
Until next time!!
