Not To Be Trusted With Knives

The Internet’s leading authority on radicalized geese


Not Off To An Auspicious Start

There was a monstrous eight-legged beast in my hallway this morning. Monstrous, I say! My apartment was still mostly dark as I had just gotten out of bed and was making my way to the bathroom when I caught sight of the bastard. To make matters worse, he was in between me and my giant collection of shoes by the front door and, as we all know, shoes are the best weapon one has against these evil fiends. Lucky for me, my shoe collection is too large to all be located in one spot, so I grabbed a shoe from the shoe reserves in my closest and steeled myself for what I had to do. Then the behemoth started to move. And the only thing worse than a spider is a moving spider. I get so freaked out by the way they move! GAH! So I screamed like a little girl and hit it with the shoe and then jumped back and jumped up and down screaming some more until my heebie-jeebie level came down a few notches. Then I steeled myself again so that I’d have the strength to get close enough to the carcass to suck it up with my vacuum, but I saw that the bastard was twitching. Oh. My. God! It was clearly being reincarnated as a zombie-spider, which is absolutely, unquestionably the worst kind of anything ever. So I smacked it again to ensure it was really, truly dead and then jumped up and down freaking out again for a bit. GAH!

I will now spend the rest of the day freaking out every time I detect – or think I detect – movement out of the corner of my eye.


The Zombie-Spider Army Is After Me

First they sent the assassins. Now they have sent the army.

So yesterday after dinner, as I was tidying up before I left to go cat sitting, I reached into my recycling box to pick up some cans and plastic berry boxes to take outside when I saw something move. Something black. And huge. And fast. I think my tweet said it best:


Basically, what I did was get a shoe and bang the recycling container until the monster ran under a berry container which I bashed and bashed and bashed and bashed and bashed with said shoe until said monster was dead.  I know this might not seem like a big deal to you, but I am terrified of spiders, so I was shaking for a good ten minutes afterwards.  And though I’m terrified of spiders, I had to kill it because I’m more terrified of seeing one and then it not being killed and knowing it is in my house somewhere. Seriously, one time I made my friend Linda come over to kill a particularly large one that I just could not get up the guts to go anywhere near, much less come close enough to kill, and I basically cowered in one corner of my apartment whimpering until she got there to off the bastard.

Anyway, I haven’t been back to my place since, as I’ve been cat-sitting and I’m kind of frightened to go back there after work tomorrow, because I know the spider carcass is still sitting in my recycling container. And since no one seems to be taking me up on my offer to let them come over to dispose of the beast.  In fairness, it’s entirely possible that the spider has been reanimated and is now a zombie-spider who is building a zombie-spider army to seek revenge on me, so maybe that’s why no one is willing to come to my rescue.

I’m guessing that I’ll have to spend the day steeling myself to the very real possibility that I will have to do carcass disposal myself. I have, in the past, been able to vacuum a spider up, but I did freak out as the spider body went flying up the vacuum hose that I was holding because even though I couldn’t *see* the spider body, I *knew* it was there, with only a thin piece of plastic between it and my innocent hand! Gah!  And then I shoved the vacuum to the side and didn’t use it again until I could convince my friend Clayton to come over and take the vacuum bag out to the garbage bin outside. Because you just *know* that the zombified spider is not only reanimated but now he’s really pissed because you stuck him in a bag full of dirt and dust and he *will* come after you given the chance.