Eight-Legged Freak-Out

So the other day, I was on Facebook looking at random shit when I noticed that one of my friends had posted this:



WHAT THE FUCK.

The chances of me ever having the chance to go to Brazil, although it used to sound awesome, are right up there with landing a seven-figure job or getting five minutes alone with Baby Goose without them ending in a restraining order, but still. NO. This is just- no. I'm done. What circle of Hell is this? This is terrible.

Spiders don't stand a chance. Just sayin.

Everybody that knows me is aware that out of everything in life, bugs are the things that I hate the most, except for like, nuclear war and Justin Bieber. Remember this dude? I couldn't sleep for a week and a half after I found it in my bathroom.

Who said that this was OK??????

Spiders are the worst. I've always been petrified of them. Growing up, I used to get my brothers to run in and crush them mercilessly; now I make my boyfriend do it for me. Last week I was about to get in the shower when I noticed a small web in the corner and I swear to God the scream that I let out woke up dogs in the next three towns. Iron Man ran in because he probably thought I fell down or something and I was standing there, terrified, staring at the floor.

Me: There's a spider! In the bathroom.
IM: Where? 
(I point to it. He's probably seen crumbs bigger than that.)
IM: Are you serious?
Me: OH MY GOD KILL IT OH MY GOD.
(He kills it. Kind of.)
Me: OH MY GOD IT RAN AWAY.
IM: It didn't run away. 
Me: It's not in the napkin.
IM: This is retarded. Get in the shower.

Over the course of the day I kept looking all over his apartment for what I now consider my most worthy adversary.



Every time I heard a rustling movement I jumped, just knowing that the spider had come back to take its revenge. It didn't help that Tits kept posting stuff on my Facebook page about murderous insects that put people in comas and shit like that, which she found hilarious but probably scarred me for life. I finally agreed to get into bed, and I lay there, staring at the ceiling. I decided to shake Iron Man awake, and he was less than appreciative. I can't imagine why.

Me: Will you please go find the spider?
IM: It's 3am.
Me: He's waiting for me. He wants my soul.
IM: This is really happening right now.
Me: Please?
IM: Goodnight.
Me: Please?
(At this point he's started ignoring me.)
Me: Please?
Me: Pleeeeeeeeeeeease?
IM: Jesus fuck. 
Me: Fine. I'll kill it myself.
(Thirty Minutes Later)
IM: Were you really in the bathroom for half an hour?
Me: ...no.
IM: Did you find it?
Me: ...no.

As of today, that little fucker is still at large, and Iron Man is fully aware that he is dating an insane person (he has actually said, "I'm dating an insane person"). The fact that he has not been bestowed with a medal yet is pretty baffling to me; however, maybe that's what the spider wants. It's probably in the same Legion of Doom as the Two-Headed Snake.

Please still be my friends.