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Arachnophobes Beware!
Posted On: 01/19/2008 22:34:11
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This is the best thing I've ever written. I'll never be able to equal it, nor surpass it - not in this life; and presumably I won't be blogging in the next....
Onward!
Arachnophobes Beware!
...because today I'm going to make your skin crawl, and creep, and shimmy, and do the Polka.
Click "Back" before it's too late!
But first, a few words of wisdom from the Queen of Profundity, Willow Rosenberg:
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Quote:
"I don't like spiders, okay? Their hairy bodies, their sticky webs – and what do they need all those legs for? I'll tell you – for crawling across your face in the middle of the night, eeewwww."
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I fear spiders.
There, I've said it. One of the great Halloween icons, and I'm scared of it. How sick is that?
As in other matters (so I'm told), size doesn't matter. Small as a pinhead or big as a soup plate with eight legs, they all give me the cold collywobbles. That's a British thing, I think, the collywobble. I've never seen a collywobble. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't know a collywobble if it jumped up and bit my face off my skull. I only know they're cold. You never hear someone say, "Spiders give me the lukewarm collywobbles." They're always cold. Maybe you could knit them a sweater if you had a general idea what they looked like. You could ask an English person to describe one; maybe Giles, or Spike. I bet collywobbles are in one of Giles' books; you should ask Giles. Don't be afraid to admit your ignorance on the subject. Buffy would ask.
Back to spiders. "Geez, Dad, do we have to?" Yes, we have to. I'm runnin' this blog, and what I say goes. So take that gum out of your mouth and pay attention!
I'm not sure what it is about spiders that gives me the CCs. It's probably not the face. Spiders are generally too small for you to get a real good idea of what their face looks like. For all I know, they could look like Yul Brynner. Or maybe Burl Ives. There's just no way to be sure unless you do the whole Sherlock Holmes thing and carry a magnifying glass wherever you go. And even then… do you really want to get close enough to a spider to get a real good close-up of its face? I have this mental picture of the thing getting offended and launching itself through the air like a Tomahawk missile with a scream of "Banzai!" and probably landing in your hair and scurrying down your back where you can't reach, stopping every three of four steps to bite you. And then you swell up like a waterbed mattress and he bites you again and laughs like a lunatic when you explode.
Maybe it's the posture… did you ever think of that? The way they stand all kind of hunched over, like they're getting ready to launch themselves through the air like a Tomahawk missile and create all sorts of mayhem when they land. They look like they'd enjoy creating mayhem.
Oh, and their webs. Yum! You know how it is: it's a beautiful fall morning and you're just striding along, doing your power-walk or whatever, and you walk through an invisible spider web, generally face-first, and you feel an invisible spider scurrying down your back where you can't reach, and for the next thirty-six hours you have Phantom Spider Syndrome (that psychological disorder where you can feel the little buggers all over you, anywhere you can't reach, doing aerobic exercise or making The Spider With Two Backs or whatever phantom spiders do when you can't reach them, and giggling like a lunatic at your clumsy attempts to knock them off you). Or you try to shower to wash them off, but that doesn't work because now you're checking out the ceiling, and the shower head, and the shower rod, and the shower curtain, certain that more of them are lurking there waiting to do the "Banzai!" routine -- plus you're generally naked when you take a shower, which opens up a whole new range of interesting places for them to bite; and you walk out of there six times as nervous and tense as you were before.
The only cure I've found for Phantom Spider Syndrome is using a big can of Raid as body spray. Use the whole can. Hell, use the Backyard Fogger. Your friends may wrinkle up their noses and give you a wide berth, but you'll have peace of mind for awhile. Until you dream, anyway.
And if you've ever watched one eat… errr, let's not even go there. I get Phantom Spider Syndrome just thinking about it.
Yes, I know they serve a useful purpose. I know we'd be ankle-deep in noxious nasty bugs if it weren't for spiders helping to keep them under control. I know all that, but they still creep me out. And those of you who make nature documentaries? Find another topic. If I never see another egg sac burst and six billion little baby spiders scurry out of it, it'll be too soon. Baby spiders are not cute; they're creepy, and there's an end to it.
And that's the end of today's blog. I've got to go buy another Raid Backyard Fogger.
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