“There’s something about most phobias where there’s a tiny, tiny corner where you think this really actually could happen.” ~ Roz Chast
I think of myself as a pretty tough cookie. All those scenes on Grey’s totally fine. Pain equals no gain. Even critters, I have handled from mice in my hair to the New York City Roach. Do I like them? Hell no. But I suck it up buttercup as they say and I act like the adult I sometimes can be.
Of course that was until I was taking an evening stroll the other night and came across satan himself. Weaving a web that was actually quite impressive (I might hate the evil buggers, but I will still give credit where it is due) right smack dab where I usually run.
Well, I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and quickly turned around until I saw another one. And another one. On every light they were hanging out like it was sno big deal. At that point I started cursing and yes running through the friggin house of horrors. I even freaked my mom out as I had been talking to her at the time. (sorry mom)
I. Do. Not. Do. Spiders.
For whatever reason they make me regress to a screaming toddler having a break down because she didn’t get the candy she wanted. Except in my case, it is because I am being attacked by a spider. Yes fifty yards away constitutes as being attacked. They are evil disgusting way to many legged arthropods.
It doesn’t matter if it is in real life or on TV. You want to see me go from calm, cool, collected, to terrified in eight seconds flat, show me a spider.
In all seriousness, please do not for I can not be held accountable for my actions. They bring out the killer in me. What is more they make me turn overs into murderers as well. For I actually really can’t kill them. Which is why I will just avoid the area until someone takes care of the problem.
Of course, I have a wedding in a week. Which also means I have a dress to fit into, so aside from being hangry (which I am that too, I can not wait to NOT eat rabbit food Friday night) I really need to be running and it was a Sunday. There are no construction workers on a Sunday. So what did I do? I dragged my dark athletic hunk out of bed on a Sunday, where he kindly volunteered to be my knight in spider killing armor.
Don’t worry. I aptly rewarded him afterwards. If you want a way to my heart, just become a spider slayer and I will love you forever.
I swear I am not being dramatic…much.
But, my commit-phobe self will happily let you put a ring on it. Just saying.
I honestly have no idea what about these soul sucking monsters, I hate so much. I mean some of them are disgusting with their hairiness, size, and plumpness. But I even abhor the smaller ones as well.
They. Are. Expletive. Expletive. Expletive. Disgusting.
I have tried to make my peace with them. I really have. I mean who doesn’t love Charlotte’s Web? Yeah not me. Never ever going to happen. I have sadly resigned myself to this fact, especially after Saturday.
And yes I did bathe in about a gallon of bleach, and no it did NOT erase the creepy crawly factor I had.
Do you have any phobias or abhorrences? If so what? I promise not to use them against you…much! ;p