Spiders part II

I have come to the realization that spiders are terrorists.

The night that I posted the original blog about spiders, one decided to greet me in my bathroom. Since then, every bit of string, every dust bunny, every shadow on the wall makes me jump and do a double-take to make sure it's not one of those horribly unnerving creatures.

This goes on for a good 3-4 weeks every time I find an unnaturally large spider in my house. A complete disruption in my normal way of life.

Terrorists.

Anyway, the giant spider in my bathroom is there to assassinate me, I'm sure of it. There was a bomb strapped to it's abdomen... Ok, well, there was no bomb strapped to its' abdomen, but my heart rate had suddenly increased as if there had been.



I'm pretty sure it had been lying it wait while I took my shower. When I had entered the bathroom, nothing had seemed amiss. My shower must have proved a lot shorter than it had anticipated, because when I opened the shower curtain, it ran from the middle of the bathroom floor to behind the toilet.

At first, I had thought it was a mouse.

Then, it dawned on me that a rogue spider faction must be taking its' revenge.

Completely naked and dripping wet, I grabbed my hairspray from the counter and carefully and slowly walked over to the toilet.

This is what greeted me:



This thing was a fucking mutant beast.

I uncapped the hairspray and bravely dispatched the pressurized fluid.

Apparently, one of the benefits of being a mutant beast spider is that you're completely impervious to hairspray.

This is when it charged me.

I swear I levitated. I was suddenly on top of the toilet. At this point, I was thinking that I need to act fast before it climbs the toilet after me. (Can spiders even climb toilets?)
I did a leap across the bathroom and ran into my bedroom.

Being engaged in spider warfare is quite unnerving completely butt-ass naked, so I put on my tennis shoes. I grabbed a boot and crept back into the bathroom.

It was waiting for me. I ran at it with my boot and a war cry (ok, I just charged it in a quick fashion silently) and vigorously smashed it 5-7 times with the heel.

I killed it dead and I won.

Go America.




UPDATE:

Yes, I tried to deliver the spider to its afterlife with hairspray+lighter at first, but I couldn't get the right angle :(

Roadkill

There are many differences between having a motorcycle and having a car as your main source of transportation.

Namely, you're open to the elements and road conditions.

Being exposed to the cold or the rain is annoying, but can be thwarted by wearing proper water-resistant gear or bundling up in a couple layers. Being on a bike on a really hot day just means taking off a couple layers.

Road conditions are a little harder to overcome, however. Potholes, while they can be bad to the tires or suspension on your car, become detrimental to those things as well as your crotch on a motorcycle.

Getting stuck behind a stinky truck in your car is gross, but usually, rolling up the windows and turning off the air takes care
of most of the problem. Getting stuck behind a stinky truck in your motorcycle is like giving the tailpipe a blow job.

Now, all of these things I had expected to encounter whilst riding a motorcycle. I completely understood that I would no longer be enclosed in the protective kennel that is a car. I would get hot, I would get cold, I would get wet and I would sometimes be uncomfortable. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love riding. Feeling the wind against my body while going down a twisty road promotes a wonderful sense of joy and freedom that I had never felt before.

The one thing that I absolutely did not consider was the utter repulsiveness of roadkill.

While roadkill is awful in any case, it is especially offensive on a motorcycle.

Think about driving down the road in a car. You see a dead raccoon on the side of the road and you either think "aww." or "gross." or whatever. It's usually rolled over on its side, a little bloated, and you imagine (well I do) that it had a family or it was just trying to find some food or something and its life was abruptly ended by a Ford Bronco pummeling down the highway road.




Riding past roadkill on the bike is a little different. It's still on the side of the road, a little bloated, and as you're rolling up closer to it, you think "aww." or "gross." or whatever. When you come up on it, it's a whole different story.

You can clearly see that rigor mortis has set in. Its little limbs are stuck like a dead cartoon dog.

It's very bloated.

Blood has coagulated around its mouth, and its tongue is hanging out.

Its sharp yellow teeth are exposed.

Its eyes are bulging and filled with terror and death.





It not only stinks, it is omitting an extremely offensive odor that will fill your helmet. Once it has filled your helmet, you think "WOW, that is fucking disgusting." A moment passes, and all of a sudden, it's like the rankest fart that was ever emitted. It's thick. Not only do you smell it, it is now the horrid wet stale taste filling your mouth.

You speed past, hoping that the wind will blow the stench away. It does, but now you are left with a slight nausea, hoping that you won't paint the inside of your full face helmet with what you had for lunch.

I can't say that I regret riding the bike full time at all, but the horror that is roadkill definitely makes me wish that I had a car sometimes.

Spiders

I hate spiders. A lot.

They creep the shit out of me. Yes, I know I'm like a kagillion times bigger and stronger than them. Doesn't change the fact that they are creepy. I think it's the way they move that really gets to me -- and that when they do make an appearance, it always seems to be inches from my face. They're like gross little ninjas.

Thus, I have compiled a list.

8 ways to kill a spider:

1. Stomp



2. Swat





3. Crush






4. Spray

a. With spider killer
b. With household cleaners
c. With hairspray

5. Starve




6. Set on fire



a. Set on fire in conjuncture with hairspray





7. Point out to cat





8. Eat :(