Mind Your Own God Damn Business

Another thing to add to the list of things that I hate about Summer:

I don't really feel like putting pictures of spiders in my post, so here's a baby raccoon instead. Get that handsome little devil some trash!

During this time of year, all of the spiders in town decide that they should be hanging out in my room. They apparently hate the heat just as much as I do, or maybe they really like metal or think they’ll score some really sweet bugs in here that are better than the ones outside. I don’t know their reasoning behind the decision. I’ve never asked them and they’ve never told me. All I know is that when it starts to get hot, parts of my room start to look like the set of Tales From the Crypt.

Spiders kind of freak me out, but I’m willing to tolerate their presence to a certain extent. They just want to hang out and eat mosquitoes, and I can respect that. Mosquitoes don’t scare me, but they do like drinking my blood, which not only pisses me off, but causes me an actual problem, unlike the spiders. Because of this, as long as there are only a few webs in my room, they’re not near anything and appear to belong to tiny spiders, I tend to just let them do their thing.

In one of my behaviors that proves that I probably have some kind of brain damage, I also tend to talk to the spiders. If I notice that one has set up shop in a windowsill or a corner that I have decided is okay, more often than not I find myself telling it that if it stays there, it’s cool, but if he heads near my desk or my bed, he’d better hope that there are plenty of bugs in my toilet, because that’s where he’s headed.

You’re reading that correctly – when I see spiders in my room or bathroom, I attempt to make a verbal agreement with them.

Seems like a solid, but more importantly, rational plan, right?

Guess again. Believe it or not, some of the spiders have not been honoring our deal, which has been pissing me off.

"Uncle Reggie"

I remember when I was growing up, my uncle Reginald T. Castle always used to say terrible things about spiders.

“Never trust one of those slimy fucks!” he would yell at me at the dinner table, as I would roll my eyes and mutter “Here we go again!” under my breath.

“NEVER make a verbal agreement with a spider!” He would say, “Always be sure that you sign a legal document with a lawyer present when making a deal with one, because those backstabbing assholes will do anything they can to nickle and dime you! They’re not even human, in my opinion!”

He would always rant and rave about the more progressive neighbors down the street who allowed those “uppity spiders” to “just waltz around like they owned the place.”

At the time, I was appalled by his blatant prejudice. For years I tried to forgive him for his ignorance and just accept that he was set in his ways.

Lately, however, I’m beginning to think that maybe there was a kernel of truth to what he was saying.

(Side note: I can already tell that even though I think this part of the post is a good idea right now, after getting a full night’s sleep I’m going to be incredibly embarrassed that I put something this stupid on the Internet. We’ll just call the previous section “Exhibit B” in the “I have brain damage” evidence file.)

There have been two intruders on my desk in the past couple of days that were immediately murdered. A couple of interlopers decided that they could catch more bugs in the shower. I don’t know how many they caught, but they ended up getting flushed down the drain with scalding hot water.

Tonight was the last straw, though.

I was sitting at my computer, because that’s what I do when I’m not asleep, and one started crawling on my monitor.

After accusing the spider of disrespecting me, I killed it, and then had another of those “When I listen to myself talk, I realize that I say some really stupid, crazy things” moments that seem to happen frequently. I mean, I’m telling a spider that he’s disrespecting me for breaking a verbal agreement that we had to stay away from my stuff.

I’ve had it with this shit, and as far as I can see, there’s only one solution: Invest heavily in hedgehogs. Look at these little motherfuckers:

No Mercy.

You can tell from the look on their faces: They’re just waiting for a spider to piss them off so they have an excuse to eat him in front of his family as an intimidation tactic, then maybe eat a few raisins and take a nap.

Unfortunately, I don’t really have the money to buy hedgehogs right now, so I’m going to have to wait on that. Until then, if I see a cobweb, it’s coming down. If I see a spider, I’m going to kill it. They’ve crossed me for the last time.

Now have a good night, and enjoy this picture of a hedgehog dominating a carrot.

I think every post I’ve put up lately has been a little bit dumber than the last. I’m putting up ads on craigslist, attending (and enjoying) Kid Rock concerts, and now I’m talking to spiders. It’ll be interesting to see how stupid this gets in a few more weeks. I’ll probably just start scanning “Nancy” comics in and hitting “Post”.

Oh hell. Why wait?

CLASSIC!!!

HA! IT’S FUNNY BECAUSE IT’S…Well…because it’s…hmm…how the hell did the author convince anyone to publish this thing?

Seriously. There’s either a gas leak in here or I have a brain tumor.

Goodnight.