Why Carrie Underwood’s face is now covered in guts
I have lived alone for the past 2 years, and to be honest, there are very few times that I wish for a roommate. I love to have my space, and to know that if I clean up, the house stays clean. Or if I leave a mess, I’m the only one who has to deal with it. Silence is a beautiful thing, as is my iTunes on shuffle – and it’s wonderful to have the freedom to choose which to exercise on any given night.
That said, there are a few times when I wish that there was somebody else around:
1) When I am dying my hair.
2) When I have nightmares (happening all-too-often these days).
3) When I find a Huge-Ass Bug (HAB).
Number 3 happened this morning.
I awoke to my alarm, and, channeling the magnificent Dolly Parton, I “tumbled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen, poured myself a cup of ambition.” There I sat, peacefully enjoying my coffee and egg-on-toast, catching up on the news through Good Morning America – a very typical morning for me. I opened the blinds to look up at the sky, attempting to decipher what the weather might do today, and deemed it a good morning for a long walk. Time to change my clothes.
I turned and walked back down the hall (and by “down the hall,” I mean 2.8 feet) to the bedroom. I make it just inside the doorway when I see it. IT. The worst HAB of them all: a tarantula. On my ceiling. Which, if you’ve seen my apartment, translates to “3 inches above my head, ready to drop and lay its eggs in my flowing locks.”
[Pause] Right. So. I don’t know if it was actually a tarantula, but it was by far the biggest spider I have ever seen – the type that you know that if you crush it, you will hear its very bones snap. And I am not joking – I would not joke about this. HABs are no laughing matter – they are of grave consequence.
[Unpause] Where were we? Ah yes, the HAB and I in a face-off, its legs creeping out toward me and venom dripping from its fangs. I saw my own reflection repeated over and over in its multi-faceted eyeballs. Man against beast, I knew that this apartment was not big enough for the both of us. And I knew what I had to do.
I slowly backed out of the bedroom, violently shaking both hands, my face twisted into a permanent expression of horror, and mumbling pitiful words like, “No, no, not me, NOT ME, ewww, no no no, why, God, why?” And then, in what can only be described as an out-of-body experience, I grabbed the closest magazine that I could find. And charged the bedroom William Wallace style.
Let this be a lesson to arachnids everywhere. I take no prisoners, and leave nothing but awe in my wake.
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*shudder* Eew.
I think I saw a very similar tarantula-like spider when I lived in Shoreline. I screamed and then called for the nearest male roommate to take care of the matter. I don’t know what he did with it, but he did capture it and carry it away. When the other roommate finally came upstairs, he said, “Lyla, I doubt it was that big.” The roommate who got rid of it for me said, “No, dude. It was. It was really f*ing big.”
Had I been alone, I would have screamed, and then moved out…leaving all of my spider contaminated posessions behind. Given the size of the spider, I think that would have been totally reasonable.
Annie – I’m a ‘lurker’ on your site (found it through – well, it’s too hard to explain), and I must say I enjoy it hugely! Thanks for capturing the hum-drum things of life and making them funny and full of life. I will continue to read and enjoy, I’m sure.
You just HAD to post this right before I stay in this apartment, didn’t you? Maybe now isn’t the best time to mention that my greatest fear in life is huge-ass spiders with crunching bones and venomous fangs … but I will brave the spider-pit for you, dear friend. That is what love is all about :)
I, too, am a “lurker” on your blog. Actually, one of your friends is friends with my boyfriend, so through bored clicking at work I happened upon your site. That said, I loved this entry. EXACTLY how I would react in the situation. In fact, I have reacted that way, which is probably why I was wrenching my face up in disgust and sympathy while reading…my heart also started racing a little…as if I would glance up from my monitor to find the brother of your tarantula crawling on my wall. Anyway, thanks for always being entertaining!
We’d make perfect roommates. I don’t mind bugs. In fact, I have traditionally been the roommate that 1)kills bugs and 2) pulls hair from out of the drain. Yum. It’s gonna take a lot for a man to impress me :)
I want to date you. You are officially my dream woman. And I bet your hair looked AMAZING whilst you slain the beast.
Did you kill it “xena” style, or Beatrix Kiddo style (kill bill)? I could see you attacking it both ways. . . . I, um, am not afraid of spiders. . . .ahem. . . .at all.
F-ing spiders. . . .
[…] This morning, I saw the second cockroach of my life. The first was about 2 months ago, crawling across my kitchen floor. I had never seen anything like it, and reacted in the only way I knew how: with a piercing shriek that rattled the windows and surely woke the neighbors. This time, I was more prepared. I karate-chopped that roach with a sturdy flip-flop, and killed it until it was extremely dead. Take that, HAB. […]