In case we somehow wind up living together one day, there are a few things you should know about me. Number one is that I bake excellent brownies. Number two is that I’ll likely make your bed whenever you’re not home, whether you want me to or not. And number three is that there isn’t a circumstance in the history of circumstances under which I’ll be the one to deal with a bug/rodent. In fact, I’ll move out before I deal with a bug/rodent. And from the time of bug/rodent discovery until I move out, I’ll stand on the barstool and curse both you and the bug/rodent, which I’m thinking is one of those qualifications that will make me an incredible mother, no?
My future four-year-old child: Help! Mommy! There’s a spider in my room!
Me: Well. That sucks.
My hysterically crying child: But I’m so scared!
Me: Well of course you are, the spider is probably going to crawl into your mouth and lay eggs while you’re sleeping.
(Do spiders even lay eggs? They can’t possibly have live births, right? But if they did, they’d have to have vaginas. Maybe spiders have vaginas? Oh my god, I wonder what a spider vagina looks like. Actually, wait. Wait! I’ve finally found something so horrifying that even I won’t Google it.)
Anyway, if we ever live together, you are the one on critter patrol. You. Not me. Not ever me.
This particular scenario (the “which one of us deals with critters” dilemma) hadn’t occurred in the six months of mine and Jamie’s cohabitation. Until last week. Until last week when a wasp arrived in our apartment.
I was the one who first noticed this wasp, and of course I immediately assumed my permanent role in these situations: shrieking and hiding next to the couch. But, Jamie was shrieking too. After we shrieked together for a little bit, I calmly told her that if she’d like to return to our wasp-free existence, she’d better fucking do something. She indicated that I had better fucking help. I agreed, on the condition that “helping” meant “throwing things at the wasp from afar in hopes of stunning it into submission.”
And so it began.
I started with two small Jaegermeister basketballs we were given at our local bar. But I have terrible aim, and I missed, and the wasp stayed put. I then threw a Sky Mall catalog at it. But I missed again, and the wasp stayed put. I then decided to throw my two deflated sex dolls at it, one after the other, and even though my aim was bullseye-like this time around, the wasp stayed put.
We stopped to evaluate. We discussed strategy. We debated how one battles such a freak fearless ninja wasp. We settled on the decision that our only real option here was to continue throwing random items at it. Next went a Trader Joe’s bag. Followed by a rubbery plastic penis (the one that came with the male blowup doll), and even though I was positive I had hit the wasp in its tiny fearless freak face with this penis, it didn’t move. At all. Nothing. Just the stationary buzzing of vehement threats to our lives. Which is when Jamie stepped in, took one shot at the wasp with her purple shoe, knocked it down onto the windowsill, walked over, and beat it to death with the matching shoe. Like Rocky – if Rocky would have done less pointless running of the stairs and more pummeling of unwanted insects on my behalf.
Jamie – 1, Freak Fearless Ninja Wasp – 0, Rocky- 0, Nicole- N/A
Which brings me to my next point, that my roommate > all other roommates and that if faced with a wasp invasion, you’ll probably die because you don’t live with her. And that would make me sad, sure, but not so sad that I’m willing to give up Jamie so she can come save you. I will compromise though. I’ll compromise by giving away one Wasp Fighter Care Package, containing the following weaponry:
- 1 female blowup doll
- 1 patch for said female blowup doll in case you pop a hole in her
- 1 set of instructions for how to open the hygienic seal on said female blowup doll’s vagina and anus, which is now only relevant to her anus since I impatiently cut her vagina open with a knife
- 1 male blowup doll
- 1 penis that fits said male blowup doll
- 2 small Jaegermeister basketballs
- 1 Sky Mall catalog
- anything else that Jamie and I decide is relevant between today and next Wednesday
Now, please raise your little commenting hand if you’d like to be the winner of this package.
[Update: I couldn’t resist. I Google image searched spider vagina. On one hand, I’m afraid to report that a few of the photos may have blinded me. One the other hand, I’m happy to report that one of the photos is of a spider performing cunnilingus on a human woman. Fair tradesies, I'd say.]
[Update 2: Sara wins!]
{ 64 comments… read them below or add one }
I love it. Last summer there were 15 wasps in my office over the course of a month. I am chief wasp killer there. My stupid macho asshole boss just pissed it off more when he tried. So I sprayed the fucker (the wasp, not my boss… I wish it had been my boss!) with bleach until he couldn’t fly anymore and then squashed him with a shoe. Unfortunately, I learned later that unless you clean up the dead wasp the right way, the body emits pheromones that make other wasps come check it out. (you’d think Eau De Dead Wasp would be more of a warning, wouldn’t you??)
So, I’m sitting here reading this list and I’m thinking, “That fucking whore is going to give away my purple shoes, isn’t she!?”
But you didn’t. And it brought a small freak single tear to my eye. Because it was like, you care! You care about my purple shoes, which you make fun of when I wear, which, come to think of it, I still don’t understand because, I mean, these shoes are totally normal. Like, I don’t get why you laugh at them.
Also. Do you have any idea how hard it was to type all those l’s and r’s and th’s without, you know, without… OUR WANGUAGE!?
To be clear, I do *not* hate the purple shoes. I just laugh when you wear them with workout pants to the grocery store.
And really, if I gave away the purple shoes, you’d probably give away my black and white dress. Because YOU hate THAT. Which makes me cry.
Which makes me think we should probably go out this weekend wearing outfits based around the things the other person hates, yes?
WANGUAGE
I mean, is this a legitimate giveaway? Because if so I do believe it’s the weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of. So, yeah. It probably is legit because we are talking about Nicole & Jamie. Weirdest fucking thing ever = Nicole & Jamie.
YES. LEGIT GIVEAWAY. WEIRD = AWESOME
…how exactly does one teach a spider to do that? Hypothetically speaking of course.
Also? Boy 2 is our resident bug/spider dealer-wither here.
this seriously made my morning.
Nicole, I love you and all, but I obviously had to google “spider vagina” because you mentioned it, and the first thing that came up was a Yahoo! Answers question entitled, “How do I get a spider out of my vagina?”
I actually dry-heaved.
That tickles.
I mean, the thought does! The thought of that! Not the actual thing because EW I WOULD NOT know.
#shudders
Um, I guess you never heard of the urban legend about the lady with the beehive hairdo who started getting headaches until the doctors diagnosed that a spider lay eggs in her hair and the baby spiders were using her scalp for nourishment. I am pretty much the master killer whatever household I am in, bugs don’t much faze me and I even eradicated a bedbug infestation single-handedly within a week! Okay maybe two—they say infestations can last 3 to 6 months. I seem to have some trouble with mice, though. I have killed them but I just feel really bad afterwards especially when the blood spills. Yeah, one thing they don’t tell you about killing mice, there’s always bloodletting involved. Okay maybe not I once saw my dad shock a mouse to death with sound. It hid under a propane tank and the banging on the tank killed it. Of course, I am not a homeowner…Lords knows what I would do when ‘coons get into the garage or squirrels be up in the attic. I officially give you an oath to eradicate any vermin and/or pestilence for you if I am nearby, especially zombies. I love eradicating the undead.
This is why guns are legal, to kill any and all insects. It gets a little breezy in the winter in the north east but it’s a trade off. No bugs.
Also spider sex makes me itchy.
If there’s a bee in my apartment (and there have been several), I tend to run away whenever the bee comes near, so that means if it’s by my desk, I can’t work, and if it’s by my bed, I can’t sleep.
The bee owns me.
That’s some funny shit.
I hate freakin wasps.
OK, first of all, I feel that after reading this blog for many moons, we are basically the same person. Except I live on the east coast. Dealing with bugs? No fucking way. Getting within four feet of bugs? No fucking way. Resorting to cowering and screaming and hyperventilating about the bug across the room? CHECK.
My equally awesome roommate and I found a house centipede in our apartment the first time. YES, there have been other times, so we have invented a house centipede killing kit. Do you have house centipedes in SF? They are the most vile, disgusting, and frightening creatures!
So I’m sitting with my roommate watching Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure for the thirty fourth time, quoting and laughing, when along comes the house centipede. (DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUN!) House centipedes are SCARY.
They are beige-ish so they blend in with the carpet until they’re right up next to you, when you notice those creepy striped legs move leaving you no choice but to practically pee your pants with fear that one will crawl up your legs and arms into your mouth, or worse, just stop at your vagina like it’s an alluring rest stop (in which to have babies and of course do some meth) off I-95. So of course, you jump and run screaming and scramble around the apartment like mad.
The bigger problem with house centipedes is that they are super mega fast. They are the cheetah of bugs. They might as well be David Fucking Copperfield because they disappear when you blink. I guess their 100 legs of stripy death have something to do with it. They also, like many other bugs, defy gravity. They will appear on the floor, or on the walls, they will creep on you from the ceiling, which is unholy. It’s an air strike and I cannot even think about that thing landing on me. I digress. Back to the ambush at hand.
So Allison, my roommate, yells, “Get off the couch!” so I do, and see the tail end of a three inch long house centipede go under my couch. So of course, here we are, standing between two couches, yelling about what do and how to kill it, and where the fuck is it?! We immediately decide that we need to get suited up to protect ourselves from invasion, but that one of us needs to stand guard to see if it scurries away. I opt to leave that job to her, since I’m such a puss about bugs. So I run and get my snow boots and bring her my galoshes. With no time to waste, we have on the necessary footwear to combat the lurking beast.
Now, we just need weapons. I grab a large, heavy book about forensic science from the coffee table, and some paper towels, she grabs a can of febreeze. We decide that the bug is still under the couch, and then I have a paralyzing question. “Do you think it crawled into the couch and is going to hang out inside?! Like, take up a permanent residence in my fucking spot?! Can it even do that? I’m sure it can! I’m never going to be able to sit in my spot again!” At this point, Allison should clearly have slapped the hysteria out of me, but she didn’t and instead, suggested that we move the couch. First, I try kicking the couch to see if he’ll come running out because we scared him. HA! Scare this creepy crawly? No. We are scared. He is totally decorating his new apartment in my COUCH!
Allison kicks the couch, not working. We kick the couch from every corner to no avail. Allison walks away to get another weapon, and the beast runs out and right back in, leaving me screaming and hopping around the living room. We decide we have to lift the couch. Allison lifts the couch from the back and I don’t see anything, but you know, they blend in. She drops the couch with a loud thud and we wait. Nothing. We lift it again. I see it, but when I tell her I see it (“AAAAAH!”) she drops the couch. Now we know he’s there, and he’s not coming out, so we have to lift again. This time, she sprays it with the febreeze and I throw the book at him. Then, of course, I couldn’t possibly lift the book up. What if he was stuck to the book? Crawled out from under it and onto me? After I couldn’t dawdle anymore because Al was going to drop the couch, I had to make a plan.
I went to get the swiffer and covered it with a paper towel. This way, I could move the book, and make sure the beast was dead, all the while maintaining a safe four foot distance. I pushed the book, and no dice. The beast lives. Running. I begin to beat him mercilessly with the swiffer. It’s not working. What the fuck!? Not only does it feature such evolutionary wonders as camouflage, the ability to defy gravity, and super speed to aid in its subterfuge and escape from death, but it’s super strong!
It’s running closer and closer to a corner, so I know I must defeat it, but the Swiffer isn’t working, it won’t smash hard enough into the floor. Allison drops the couch with the loudest thud ever, and I flip the Swiffer over to the green handle side and start beating the floor with that. Eventually, after removing 2o or so of its legs, the beast slows down and I can kill it with the handle.
Now I can’t pick the swiffer up because some still-twitching bug legs are on each end and I. Just. Cannot. Handle. It. Awesome Allison saves the day by taking the gut-covered instrument of death to the kitchen and cleans up the carpet as well.
We are proud in our defeat of the beast until the neighbor from downstairs knocks on our door with a scowl. Too much thudding and banging and screaming for 10:30 on a weeknight. We apologize, tell her it was because a creepy bug crawled under our couch and wouldn’t die, and then she tells us that she was afraid we were being murdered. Murdered, no. Attacked, YES.
In the days since our first battle of the bug, The Swiffer With A Paper Towel Cover has stood at the ready next to the fridge to conquer more beasts. We have killed more house centipedes and silverfish from safe distances. It is especially useful for the times the bugs are creepy crawling on walls and ceilings. A wonderful thing. I enthusiastically recommend The Swiffer With A Paper Towel Cover to every household. While it’s not as fun or fabulous as your Wasp Fighter Care package, it gets the job done.
In summary, I would like to be the winner of this package.
A comment with a summary. Perfect. PERFECT
See? We should be friends.
I do not wish to be entered into the contest, because I don’t need a Wasp Fighter Care Package. There is only one reasonable way to kill wasps. You get them drunk and then smash them. I’m actually quite surprised that you two didn’t think of this.
(Seriously, at work we have a horrible wasp problem. So we put alcohol in a spray bottle, spray it on the wasp, wait for it to fall over, and then trap it/smash it/stomp it. Would probably work for all insects…)
Clearly, Jamie and I need to invest in a spray bottle.
I’m in! I’ve only had 2 “bee in the house” situations. The first one my roomate and I pelted it with Resolve foaming carpet cleaner figuring A) The foam would weigh the bee down, so no flying, and B) if we missed the bee and got it all over the carpet and furniture it was win/win. The second time I hid in my closet and made my husband come home from work. Lame.
I can’t give you a vagina spider but I CAN give you a vagina BAT and a Ruben Studdard Spider instead.
You’re welcome.
Enjoy your nightmares.
I HATE all those creepy crawlers and nasty little rodent devils….
I obtained a live in boyfriend and thought he’d happily deal with these issues as I assumed that ALL men were genetically pre-disposed to be awesome bug/rodent killers. NOT TRUE. I have since been trying to train my dogs to be bug killers, but that hasn’t worked yet either. Until i perfect either the boyfriend or the dog training i beleive i’m going to need a wasp fighter care package. Especially since i found a wasp nest IN THE GROUND yesterday while mowing the lawn. I mean WTF, like i don’t have enough to deal with, now the wasps are burrowing like rodents underground!
PLEASE SEND HELP (or purple shoes)
XOXO
Yeah, I definitely don’t kill bugs and/or rodents in my house. If I found out there was a mouse in my home, I think I would just sign all my rights over to the mouse and move in with my mom because that shit just ain’t happening.
Also, I really want to win the wasp fighter package mainly because I want the blow-up doll to come in the mail mainly because I want my fiancee to find it and open it and realize what a fucking freak he’s about to marry. I believe that this wasp fighter package will be the true test of our relationship. So I’m pretty sure I win, right?
I WANT TO WIN THE PACKAGE. Here is the thing. I have a cat, and he kills cockroaches like it’s his job, which is awesome. But he is defenseless for bees and wasps WHICH I AM ALLERGIC TO, WAY TO GO, CAT, WHY DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE?
Also, I live alone, even though I hate it, because I’m an idiot, SO I CAN ALSO USE THE BLOW UP DOLLS TO KEEP ME COMPANY. Yes. That.
Sounds like me & my roomie. I refused to kill any bee that got into our room. Luckily she wasn’t afraid to get in there & pummel them to death
And that would be the reason I have a cat. My husband is a big pussy when it comes to bugs and shrieks like a girl and climbs on chairs and shit, my kids just want to poke the damn things and I run and hide. Cat on the other hand? Kills the fuckers and eats their legs. And sometimes half the bug. And on rare occasions the whole damn thing. Cat rules.
I am in charge of bug killing in my household. Which in Florida, is basically a daily job. However, I don’t need your package, because I have this: http://dailybooth.com/Norcross/5769011
Those electric bug-swatter-paddles can also be used as a BDSM toy, by the way.
Also: OW MY ASS (bzzzt) OW QUIT IT (bzzzzzt) GODDAMMIT I’M SERIOUS (bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt)
The real reason we didn’t live together while I was in grad school and you were dicking around at W&S was actually this very scenario. I am deathly afraid of anything that walks (especially bugs/bees/arachnoids, etc., in this case.) I probably would have sacraficed you to the spider/wasp in attempts to bribe him and get on his/her good side. That, being said, I think I need this kit more than life itself. Tucket, my Shih Tzu, will thank you as he is currently the sacraficial lamb on the chopping block. (I also really enjoy skymall.)
P.S. Spiders lay eggs and I heard a story once about how it layed a whole eleventy thousand eggs inside someone’s cheek once! I’ll spare you details, but the resulting spider omelet growing in the person’s cheek was not pretty.
P.P.S. I’m going to shower now as I swear things are crawling up and down my skin. Thanks!
Dude. My BF is allergic to bees, send me that for his safety and also because we’ll have some fun with it when bees AREN’T around.
I am rubbish at bug killing. But I live alone (well my kids are too young to kill bugs) so I either have to deal or kill them. I need some bug spray.
My other issue is with mice, I got over my inability to empty the mouse trap right up until I checked it to find a trapped but alive mouse. That creeped me the hell out so now there is poison!
I live alone and therefore desperately need this kit.
Also, Sky Mall is my shit. I once almost got kicked off a flight because I was so pissed they didn’t have ANY Sky Mall catalogs.
Why don’t you have a reality TV show yet?
I think it would be brilliant. Way better than most of the crap on TV.
I’ve already documented the fact that B and I are registering at SkyMall when we get married.
I’ll have more rotating tie racks than I know what to do with!!!!!!
*joy*
gold, per usual.
Okay, I was going to SHOW you what becomes of you when you google “spider vagina,” but it seems you already did. Just in case though…you DID see this, right? I’m not sure what the fuck it has to do with spiders but it freaked me right out for a second.
In other news, I think you should try to re-create it.
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2990091554244598966#
I may have actually caused the “critter in the apartment” scenario. My pet turtles have recently turned into ninjas (I’m now certain that the creator of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles actually based that cartoon on a true story) and one of them keeps escaping their 60 gallon tank. It seems impossible. But it’s true. And they always escape when I’m not in the apartment.
Since the turtles are about the size of small dinner plates, my roomies are terrified of them. One roommate locked herself in her room for 2 hours rather than face my turtle. The next time it happened, however, she banned together with my other roommate and they used oven mitts and the handle of a tank cleaning brush to trap the turtle and return it to the tank. Apparently, my roomie who locked herself in her room previously was acting as cheerleader during this whole ordeal.
I felt so bad I had to make it up to them with cupcakes and booze.
So I was intrigued about this spider vagina thing and I googled it. First of all, the top result was from yahoo answers with someone asking “how do you get a spider out of your vagina?” with a detailed (and horribly spelled) story about sex in the wilderness, discharge and vaginal squirmyness. Needless to say, the “best answer” suggests this is not the result of a spider in a vagina but more likely an infection.
Secondly, there are way too many google results asking how to get spiders out of your vagina. But then again, spiders are predators so you can’t really blame them.
Lastly, spiders do, in fact, lay eggs. Thanks wikipedia.
The end.
So this sounds exactly like my first summer at my first apartment after moving out of the dorms in New York– one nice, hot July afternoon I had come in from reading outside in the park and I’m watching the noon news trying to decide what to make for lunch and something small and gray darts across the floor. At first I pretended it wasn’t a mouse dashing across my floors, but alas it was indeed. I jumped on the futon and didn’t get down until my roommate returned home from work– at 6pm.
Oh, and I took to throwing old economics text books at them as they scurried across the baseboards of my apartment, because one definitely turned into they very, very quickly.
Duh. Hand raised.
Oh, and I’m not really afraid of insects and stuff except for the ones with MORE than eight legs. Like anything that ends in -pedes. Centipedes. Millipedes. Those are gross. Oh, and roaches because they crunch and THAT is gross.
Otherwise, we’re golden.
we could never live together because i make matt kill all insects and foreign intruders. i’m a wuss to the nth degree when it comes to creatures and insects and just ew.
at least we’ll always have ginger vodka and penis straws though right?
Solution: I could live with you *and* Matt.
No? Not what an almost-newlywed-couple wants?
Fine. FINE.
Two nights ago B and I were eating dinner and this wasp starts buzzing around on the window. No clue how he got in. B took off his soft moccasin slipper and slapped at the wasp repeatedly. It would pretend to be dead, even looked smooshed, the somehow it would uncurl itself and start buzzing away again. I finally took the Cooking Light. Mag (hey, it ws on the table) to it and I swear I mashed it good. But when I picked up the magazine, it was gone… Which really freaked me out cause now I was sure it was planning his revenge. I left the room after searching for the body for 10 minutes. 30 minute later, I heard a buzzing in the kitchen- and damn if it wasn’t the same f-ing wasp! This time, I managed to swat him to the ground and mashed him with The Help- no, not my maid (which I don’t actually have) – the book. That did the trick, but for good measure I ground up the body in my garbage disposal. Me:1 Wasp:0
This doesn’t even come close to the story about why I am called Spider Crotch by certain cruel friends.
We live in the country in Canada, and spiders, centipedes and potato bugs love finding their way into the house. Unfortunatly for me, by ‘house’, I mean ‘my bathroom’.
So, I’m getting ready for school. I drop my poor unsuspecting clothes onto the floor to innocently brush my teeth. I decide to get dressed, so I grab my pants. As I pulled up my shirt to button up my pants, a special surprise waited to eat my brains.
A FUCKING MASSIVE SPIDER WITH HAIR AND LEGS AND EW CRAWLS OUT OF MY PANTS.
I ripped off those pants as fast as I could, burst into tears, and screamed for my mother like only a true trooper like me could.
The spider, who is apperently frightened as well (fuck that it can die), ran into our laundry room, where my mother trapped it JUST TO LET IT BACK OUTSIDE.
No one but me seems to really understand that if it can get in the first time, it can do it again.
Sigh.
And this is why I deserve nice things.
Holy shit that’s hilarious. I just had to force myself to kill a moth in my place and it was awful. I not shit stared at it for about 30 minutes before I killed it. And how did I kill it? I screamed at myself to just DO IT. I think my neighbors worry I’m abusing myself.
I curse my husband when he doesn’t move quick enough to kill spiders. If he refused to kill one, I don’t think divorcing him would be too harsh.
Also, you are fucking hilarious!
If you have to give up Jamie to any wasp-traumatized readers, I’ll live with you. Straight up move from Oregon to San Fran. Not kidding. Ok, kidding, but not. Anyway, I would love the wasp killing package!
I hate hate hate bugs and hate being the one who has to kill them. I’m good when it comes to most spiders, ants, flies or mosquitoes. It’s the skittery ones that fuck me up. And the many legged ones. Of course, when I start killing them, I MUST OBLITERATE THEM.
Also, the only time a wasp got in our house, I had to call my husband, father and girl friend to come over and kill it. My husband killed it while our daughter and I stood outside, wondering where we would buy our new house.
I don’t have any good story to go along with WHY I want this kit, but I kinda do, so please consider it. Thanks.
Thanks for the great post. I will win it as a late Father’s Day present for my husband. He gets blowup dolls and basketballs and I get weaponry for bug killing! Everybody wins, except for the saddle-wearing roaches we keep getting in the laundry room.
I just have to say that I am the same person in the getting-rid-of-bugs roommate relationship, and the first night that my roommate learned this was when a terrible, scary, probably lethal and definitely many-legged creature crawled into my room. After seeing my panic, she sprung into action and DUST BUSTERED IT. Almost as awesome as beating it to death with a pair of shoes. (What did you do with the wasp’s body??)
This reminds me of when I first moved in with my husband. and one morning (at 5am no less) I found a spider in the shower. When I couldn’t wake him up, I proceeded to throw wadded up tissues at the spider for half an hour. When he finally got out of bed to find out what was going on, he almost died of laughter at all the tissues on the floor.
It’s a miracle he married me.
Now we have a cat. And the cat and I have a deal. I will feed her as long as she kills the spiders.
If there’s a spider vagina, there’s a spider penis. This means one thing: NINE LEGS! NINE. FREAKING. LEGS. I will move to the moon.
I do not want to be entered in this giveaway as I have 3 cats, one husband and now a dog to kill bugs. If a bug can get through all of them, NOTHING is killing it.
However, I cannot believe you didn’t know that spiders laid eggs. I thought everyone had heard some version of the urban legend with the girl with a spider bite on her forehead that gets bigger and bigger until one day as she was brushing her hair, she hit it and millions of spider babies burst out and all across her face.
I shudder.
When I lived by myself, I had issues with any type of critter that would get into my apartment. I would call the landlord. I would call friends. I would call ANYONE to deal with it, but I wouldn’t send my dog in to deal with the pest because I read a horrible PostSecret about how someone let their dog kill a spider and it was a poisonous spider and the bite ended up killing the dog. Gah.
Yeah, so it’s nice living with my fiance. He gets to do all the dirty work. And I get to cower and scream whenever a bug gets into our apartment…
I’m sorry, I was really enjoying your blog post when I read, “We stopped to evaluate” as “We stopped to ovulate.” And I thought to myself, “Wow, really? How did they know?”
Fail.
Will try again later after this cup of coffee is gone.
First of all, please don’t enter me in the contest. I can’t imagine what I’d do with a skymall catalog. haha but seriously, no entry.
Now then, one word: HAIRSPRAY. The cheaper, the better. I’m talking the 5 gallon vat of Aquanet here, people. The beauty of this is two-fold: 1.) you can maim from a distance and 2.) by “maim” I mean the stickiness of the hairspray coats the wings/legs/whatever and renders them immobile. Then you just smash them with whatever’s handy and voila!
It’s a handy trick to know when you’re allergic to bees/wasps/etc., and live on your own with no “Waspssassin” (feel free to steal that! ha!)
What. Nicole…what?
In all fairness, maybe I shouldn’t read your blog drunk. While listening to “I Want It That Way.” There’s just too many distractions.
Dude, I love you, really, I do, because you are perfectly splendid and hilarious…HOWEVER….fuck you for the spider vagina bit. I looked that shit up on Google because…how could I not when you lured it over me like that (insert mental image of a carrot on a string). Google knows NOTHING of spider vaginas…but it does apparently know of a girl trying to get a spider OUT OF HER VAGINA…and it knows A LOT about really gross human vaginas that should under no circumstances become publicly available. Thank you for fucking my life.
Finally a site where I feel like I fit in. Finally.
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