Stuck between a Hobo and the Evil Spider of death.

I'm an arachnophobe.
However, I am both more and less arachnophobic than others who fear spiders. It's spidery movement that freaks me out the most, spiders running give me full blown panic attacks. Even thinking about it makes me twitchy. As long as they don't move and aren't on me, I can deal, sorta. Actually, I have this sick compulsion to watch them, and in the case of the huge spider of death that recently took up residence on my back porch, photograph them-a lot. The watching them is purely self preservation, if they move I'm not having them sneak up on me and bite my face off, I'm out of there.

One of my most horrifying spider moments happened recently while I was driving my mother home. As we were on the highway, I had a spider in my dashboard. As in behind the plexiglass, running all over the gauges, being backlit by the lights? Yeah, insert panic here. Only the fact that the thing was stuck behind the glass stopped us from dying in a fiery crash. Pulling over wasn't really an option since we were on the highway in a tunnel and my mother can't drive standard anyway. So I had to keep driving, both hands on the wheel, near the dashboard, and I couldn't stop watching it. My mother was sure that my constantly flickering eyes were going to kill us but I assured her that if that thing found a way out and crawled up my arm as we were driving, there was no hope anyway. (And it was one of those white/green ones, the super nasty ones, you know which ones I mean right? Ew.) So I kept driving, eyes going from road to spider and back again every .3 seconds and I'm getting hysterical, I started laughing and crying at the same time and started hyperventilating, it was bad. So we finally get to my mother's house I drop her off and try to get home as fast as possible so I can be free of my own personal little hell when the thing disappears. Never to be seen again. But it really only made me panic even more because the thing obviously found a way through the vents and is going to be blown into my eyes and kill me, right?

Anyway.
Then comes this weekend when this (Warning: There is a bunch of my big nasty spider pictures there.) decided to make it's big nasty home on my back porch. He is like, the mother of all nastiness and evil. Well, not really. I have seen bigger nastier spiders which ran off the dock over the water to eat me alive, but that was in Maine. Maine is woods , it's supposed to be full of big nasty spiders the size of pancakes, you expect them there. There are reasons I don't live in Maine. I live in Boston, a big very urban city, not woodsy, not full of big nasty spiders. Or so I thought, I want a refund. But at least He was away from the doorway and I never caught him moving and I could just use the front door. My sister in law and mother in law both suggested they could shoo him away with a broom, to which I told them in my very calm and loving way "F*cking hell no!" Because then he'd get mad and come wait for me and ambush me in my bed. This is a well established fact.
So this leads me to tonight. When I pulled up to my house, there was a very dirty, very homeless looking man on my front porch. Usually I just give homeless people a few bucks and go on my way but what the hell was he doing on my porch?! I was sure that if I tried to go in the house I'd end up clearing out the basement for a hobo apartment because I don't know how to tell people no, or be mean. That's a lie, i tell friends and family no and am mean all the time, I don't know how to do those things with strangers. Creepy strangers in particular. I once spent over an hour talking to a 40 something year old guy who lived in his mom's basement and wanted to invent an insulated rolling backpack that could carry 4 gallons of milk for people who didn't have cars and happened to buy four gallons of milk at a time. Like him. I told him I thought he was on to something. So obviously there was no way I could start up a conversation with this hobo on my porch, he'd end asking to come live in my bathroom or something and this isn't even my house. That left the spider. I manned up walked and back there only to find that rather than being to the right of the door, he had built a new web! Anyone care to guess where? Across the door! OF COURSE! And not only that, he was in the middle of the web-Moving. And yet, it was either duck under the web and run or have a hobo using my toothbrush. So I did it, I ducked, I ran, I screeched and brushed off every inch of my body once I was inside. And it's a damn good thing the door was unlocked because I would have died on the spot if I'd had to stand there. But then? Then my mother in law decided that was that and she swept him away. So now I'm going to wake up after my husband leaves at 2am and have the evil spider of death chew my face off.
Think I can trade for the hobo?

Reason #473 why I probably shouldn't reproduce.

The other night I went to bed at 11pm, not because I was tired but because I was simply too scared to stay up by myself. Pathetic right? It's even worse, I wasn't scared of someone breaking into my house or something equally plausible, no what started my tangent was this. I'd put the picture here but I know I'll end up coming here ( I look at my own blog I know, but we've already determined I'm pathetic.) at 2am on day and scare myself again.
I've been like this all my life. Ever since I was five and I snuck into the living room and watched ten minutes of The Leprechaun. And I don't care what anyone says that thing is scary. He killed a man with A POGO STICK! This fear was only compounded due to the fact that my aunt (the same aunt who tormented me about my muffin boots and piss puddles - we begin to see a trend here) is one of those crazies who loves horror movies. She's 8 years older than me and was always watching them and detailing how the creatures were going to come and get me. We had a back hall in the house we lived in then and this hallway had stairs leading down to our ultra creepy basement. Seriously, no one in my family was okay with that basement. The door that closed off this hall had a window in the top half which, combined with the stairway to hell, made it the perfect place for my aunt to torture me. She'd get me to go out in the back hall for something or other (I was a particularly gullible child, she also convinced me to split my easter money with her) and then proceeded to slam the door shut and tell me that "Freddy/TheLeprechaun/Zombies/etc are coming for you, they're coming right now. Can you hear them? Oh my god they're coming up the stairs! they're gonna get you!" At which point I'd be in full on panic mode, screaming and trying to claw my way through the door until she was laughing too hard to hold it shut anymore. I also have an issue with aliens so of course there's a story for that too. Her room was on the second floor and I was never allowed up there without her permission, which I never got. So when one night she called me up there I was so ecstatic that I ran right up the dark staircase without a second thought. Only to come face to face with a fucking alien at the top of the stairs. Yeah that nearly ended with a trip to the ER as I tried to run backwards down the stairs as I screamed at the top of my lungs. She had taken a Pooh doll, strapped it to the top of the vacuum and put a hoodie on over it. Which, come to find out, makes a pretty convincing alien silhouette to an eight year old. Yeah, she got me with the two more times after that too. ->Gullible<-
So you see you can't really blame me for being terrified of monsters and aliens or really creepy lawn decorations made with human bones. (Who fucking does that?!)It's not my fault. And it won't be my children's fault when they're the same way because their Mom told them that the only way to be safe from monsters is to pull up the covers, be really still and don't make any noise and for christs sake don't let any part of your body hang over the bed. Because I could tell them that monsters don't exist but I don't think they'll believe me when they see me get all panicky after a horror movie preview. So instead I'll share my own tactics for staying alive, the same tactics I used the other night. "run like hell, don't look behind you and get into your bed as fast as you can. And when your husband asks what the hell is wrong, tell him about the monsters and beg him to comfort you. And when he ignores you and rolls over? Pull up the covers, be really still and don't make any noise and for christs sake don't let any part of your body hang over the bed.

P.S. I have employed that technique for many years and while it has most assuredly saved my life from monsters, cats jumping on my bed out of now where has definitely scared years off my life.

P.P.S. This is also why, despite the fact that I have no siblings, I don't really think of myself as an only child. Only children don't have to put up with this shit!

My ovaries name's are Benedict and Arnold.

As in, named after Benedict Arnold, worst traitor in American history? Yep, those are my ovaries. Now usually my ovaries and I have a pretty nice relationship; they do their thing and I do mine, we were good. But lately they've been pitching a full scale revolt. Lately they've been doing this thing when I see a baby or small child (mind you this only happens when they are being well behaved, my twinging ovaries are sneaky like ninjas and they know better than to try this shit when a kid isn't on their best behavior) and the ovaries start twinging and going "Aw hey look isn't that cute? Ya know, you could have one of those! It'll be sweet and warm and cuddly and call you mama.. " and suddenly my brain, the part that knows that a baby will also scream and puke and be very needy and live with me in my in-laws house, starts to forget all those things and turns to useless baby-filled mush. And then? That's where I start throwing punches. Because you see I've tried reasoning with them. Explaining very gently how yes babies are very lovely and I would like one but now is just not the time, thank you very much. Now be quiet. That didn't work so I had to escalate. It may seem drastic to start punching oneself in the ovaries in the middle of IKEA but I'm telling you, there is no other way. I can not lose this fight! And now my husband is on my shit list too. Because as we were shopping yesterday with my 7 month old cousin he actually said, out loud - where my ovaries could hear him- "I'd like one of these of my own" and my ovaries cheered, they had bells and whistles and a fucking marching band and not even the punches would rain on their parade. So if anyone knows where I can pick up some of these...

I'd be really thankful.

"You're going to wear Muffin Boots in New York?"

Yesterday my mother and I decided that we hadn't quite gotten our fill of Aiming Low in Boston. Then again, can you ever really get your fill of free food, swag, cool electronics and amazing bloggers? I think not.

Me and Brittany from Barefoot Foodie. I squeed like an asshole when I met her for the first time in Boston. She was lovely and didn't acknowledge how awkward I was :D

Motherbumper looks frightened but I don't think she was scared of my mom. ;)

Mom and Shauna. Shauna's vagina has super powers. I think her whole body does actually because she looks about 20 years younger than she actually is.

Godzilla! Oh wait. taht's just me next to two cute little ladies. (Like my Bra Strap? Hel-lo Aiming Low!)

That's better.
My mom and Angela who was with HP and was so super helpful with an issue my mom had with her printer.

Did I mention the HP products were amazing? Touch Screen computers are so much fun and I'm pretty sure I'll die if I someone doesn't buy me this. It does everything and then some and if it would do the laundry and fix my car, I might consider replacing my husband.

So anyway, we grabbed my aunt and started our drive down to NYC and pulled up to the hotel (which was right in Times Square -Awesome!) about 4 hours later. The event was lovely yadda yadda yadda, Boston was better in my opinion, but I don't regret it at all.

That isn't what this post is about though. This post is about what happened after the party. We opted to spend some time walking around Time's Square being touristy.I look pregnant, I know. I'm so not pregnant. That shirt is just evil.

See? Nothing there but shirt. (And maybe some pudge)
It was great. There were huge crowds of people willing to push you, step on you and call you names, people dressed up like Spiderman, Elmo(x2 and Ew they were dirty and furry) and Batman, and of course the peddlers. it's simply amazing how every street corner merchant manages to have real designer handbags for only $20! And I can't forget the crazies, those who only come out after midnight such as make-up man ( he could have given RuPaul a run for his money) Biking down the street singing at the top of his lungs man and the Loudly Mumbling Watch Peddler who called us "whiteys." Good observations, Sir! After a few blocks though, the heels that had seemed like a great idea at 8am were about to push me over the edge. I checked every kitschy tourist store we passed for some flip flops but it was 50 degrees and it just wasn't happening. So we went into Walgreen's in a last ditch attempt and searched all three floors (so weird, right?) For something, anything to help my aching feet. All we could find were slippers. I know, I know, God effing help me, I know. It is so disgusting to wear slippers in Time's Square. But I was in so much pain and in my defense they have rubber soles. Said slippers were of the variety that my Aunt has not so lovingly deemed "Muffin Boots" These are the original Muffin Boots. I think mine are a bit more stylish. Their style, and not the ick factor of slippers in New York was the big catch up for my Aunt. "Muffin Boots? New York is like the fashion capitol (I reminded her of LA) of the country and you're going to wear Muffin Boots." I however, was too busy being skeeved out by the fact that I could feel every little texture in the pavement to worry about offending fashion sensibilities. Well, that and being paranoid that the rubber bottoms would fail me and my feet would become soaked from what my mother and Aunt lovingly started calling "Piss Puddles." Did I mention it poured in NYC yesterday? There was a lot of wet going on. However, they seemed to hold up and they didn't hurt me so I loved them.I was kinda proud of them, they stepped up to the job and tackled Time's Square head on.

There was some revenge for my aunt though, because while we were eyeing some jewelry she had a big drop of "Piss Water" splash on her from above. Isn't that face priceless? Karma's a Bitch. Besides, I was apparently not the only one done with heels.
I hope she had some slippers.



P.S. As we were walking back to the Sheraton, we passed a store with flip-flops. ::headdesk::
P.P.S. The Yankees Lost. It was the finishing touch on our lovely night.

Inspired by Aiming Low. It's not the first time...

It may not be the first time I've been inspired by the wonderful bloggers over at Aiming Low but it's the first time that the inspiration hasn't been something along the lines of "Ooh She's right cupcakes sound amazing right now" or "Good Idea, I think I won't bother getting dressed today either." No, shockingly the ladies of Aiming Low have actually inspired me to push myself. I know, it's totally against their mantra, let me explain. I've tried many times to be a good blogger and keep it going but I never had any success. But being around all the bloggers has pushed me to just do it. It doesn't matter if I forget or "forget" to blog for two weeks, just do it anyway. So you see even though they inspired me to get off my ass (metaphorically speaking of course, I'm quite happy sitting on my ass while I blog) and do it, they also lowered the bar for doing so. And that is what Aiming Low is all about.

I blog to hear myself talk..

I'm so bad at blogging but I really enjoy it. When I remember to do it anyway.

January 20, 2009

This is a special day for sure. Even more special for me than the rest of the world because not only is it Inauguration day it is my One Year Anniversary! Tonight hubby and I will go out to eat and celebrate but He's in class this morning and I'm all about watching the goings on in DC. I didn't vote for Obama but I'm glad he won. I think if he had not it would have been bad to epic proportions. My not voting for him had more to do with my dislike of our two party system and the state I live in. I think Barack Obama is a good man and I think he is going to be good for America. I think if he does nothing else during his presidency he has done wonders for our country just by being elected. He is a powerful speaker and I hope that with some help from God he'll be able to work some of the miracles America needs. The best anniversary present I could ever receive is to have George W. Bush out of office and replace by someone that actually presents the country with hope for the future.