The Bug World Is STILL Out To Get Me, Y'All
Okay, so yesterday me and Geo were outside trimming hedges and other greenery which we ignored all summer, which ended up being all gargantuan and out of control. Seriously. The branches of the willow bushes in front of the deck were about 20 feet long... and saucy, too. Every time I'd walk by they'd whistle and grab my ass.
Cheeky shrubbery. (pun intended)
Anywho, Geo was machete-ing (is that even a word? probably not. I make crap up.) his way through the Weigelia when out popped a spider with the biggest ASS I HAVE EVER SEEN!!
As you all are aware, I'm a fan of the hyperbole, but honest to GAWD this critter's derriere was at least the size of a nickel. It was down right bootylicious! Even Beyonce would be humbled by the girth of this gluteus maximus.
It farging FREAKED ME OUT!! Take a look. That thing should have its own zip code. I hope you all realize the sacrifice I made searching for a picture of this aberration. My skin is still crawling. Eeewwwww!!? *shudder*
Both repulsed and fascinated by this eight-legged anomaly, I asked my wonderfully wise Geo if I should stomp the very life out of this hideous creepy-crawly. On the advice of said hubby and against my better judgement, I spared Betty Big Butt here a date with the sole of my Doc Marten.
Fast forward to this afternoon.
So I come home from a pleasant day at the Special K all cheery and singing. The sun shining, chipmunks dancing at my feet, blue birds hovering around my head, chirping like they do for freaking Cinderella. I innocently reach into the mail box to collect our various correspondence of the day when...
Big Butt Bertha leaps out from the stack of mail in my arms and nails me into the railing with her Shakira hips.
Stunned by the sudden bump on my noggin, I look up to see Helen Hindquarters dancing over me, her beady eyes narrowing to a glare, badonka-donk wagging back and forth, taunting me Keanu Reeves style from the Matrix--the original not those crappy sequels.
Me: "Oh. This is how you repay me for not crushing you yesterday, Be-yatch? Really. This is you thanking me?"
She let out an evil laugh, and I swear I smelled sulfur.
Me: "You want at me? Well have at it. Let's do this thing, you dirty whore."
I sprung up. She slid her back spiny leg across my ankles and sent me down hard, but not before I grabbed the snow shovel. (Yeah. We still have the snow shovel out. What of it? We get easily distracted, like a seasonal distracted disorder. Don't judge us.) As my head cracked on the concrete, I swung wildly, connecting with her man-sized pinchers, sending her rolling onto the sidewalk. Dazed and running on instinct alone, I was able to finish her off with a succession of crushing hits with the cricket bat I just happened to have in my back pocket.
Exhausted, sweat dripping from my nose I watched as the last twitch of life left my malicious marauder.
Seriously. I let her live and this is how she repays me? That's it. All you disgusting dirt dwellers are on notice. No more Mrs. Nice-Nice. You're all on my list.
In my search for the visage of this villaness, I stumbled upon this video which may explain why she was so... cranky.