Spider Homicide

I don’t scream, run or throw people in front of me. I calmly recognize that there is a spider, and I scan the room for some sort of paper product in which to dispose of it. Okay, well, this isn’t entirely correct. I am Miss Curious after all. There has to be some over-analytical shade of crazy reaction to a spider.

If you were inside my head when I saw a spider, this is what I’d say to myself:

Ew, there’s a spider, shit, gross.
Fuck, where’s a fucking tissue?
Toilet paper, oh great.
I think it’ll take that whole roll for the little spider, yup.
Hm, I should approach slowly, just in case this spider suddenly has extreme jumping capabilities.
Exhale.
Okay, squish, ew, uh, gross.
I better look to see that it’s dead.
Yup, there it is… dead…. I think.
Okay, now I better wrap it back up in this roll of toilet paper.
Hm… where should I throw this away?
Hm, not the toilet because what if I’m mistaken and it’s alive and can swim and then attacks my kooch when I sit down?
That means no bathroom trash can either… it could jump in the toilet, float and wait for my kooch then too.
Hm. Bedroom trash, no good either… what if it’s preggers spider and all its kids come back for retribution?
Oh fuck, what if wifey spider is waiting for dead spider, and now I’m dead ‘cuz I killed him.
Man, fuck, why’d I kill this spider? Shit.
Fuck. I’m dead meat. Fucking spiders.
The best I can do is the kitchen.
I’m never there. That’ll work. Let me tie this in ten bags, then throw it the kitchen trash.

So perhaps a little over-analytical, but looking at me, you’d never know this was going through my head. I’d look completely chill committing spider homicide.

Yeah, like that time 3 years ago when I was babysitting (yes, I babysat at the age of 24, fuck you)… I heard a scream coming from the kitchen… it was 4 year old Blondie. I run over to see what warranted such a shriek – an intruder? Dismemberment? There Blondie stood on the tile floor screaming and pointing at an itty bitty spider crawling toward the ceiling.

“Don’t worry Blondie… Miss Curious is here… I’ll take care of that little spider (it’s not my toilet – not my kooch).”

I lift myself onto the kitchen counter, taking a roll of paper towels with me. Blondie stands below me, her hands in fists, folded into her chest – her eyes squinting and teeth grinding in fear. With the paper towels, I reach for the spider. I nabbed it, but it was still alive. I saw it running on the surface of the paper towel. I scream at the top of my lungs and drop the paper towel. Of course, who is standing there below me? Blondie. I dropped the spider paper towel right on her head. I’m screaming, she’s screaming. Why? A little fucking spider.

I eventually killed the spider, but left hoping to God that she wouldn’t tell her parents.

Thank God:

Thank God I've finally decided to be optimistic, patient, AND understanding... let's see how long it lasts - I mean, it's going to last forever (how optimistic is that?)... I'm going to attempt to be patient with the chumps on the bus, chumps at work, chumps on the phone, my chump friends (okay friends, you're not really chumps - chump just sounds better in repetition)... but yeah, i'm going to try to "turn over a new leaf" AGAIN... hahaha... Yes, I have to be filled with the love folks... filled with the happy times... let the shit and the chumps roll off my back.... listen to happy music like "crazy in love" and other Beyonce hits... I should give the "Happy" bit a try... try it on for size. I'm so fucking brilliant!! What took me so long to figure this happy thing out? weird.