Archive for September, 2010

Okay, please hear me out on this…if you are a creepy takes pictures of himself shirtless in his parents’ basement considers drunk driving a sport human-skin suit sewing sort of guy, please do not contact me. You will only creep me out and give me nightmares. I will be forced to ban you from my site.

Besides, I don’t think you’re looking for my type. I’m kind of a Disney-loving, sunset watching, enjoys puppies sort of person. I’m not interested in sitting in a dark basement watching you trim your toenails by flickering fluorescent.

If you’re holding a gun in your profile pic chances are we’re not going to get along. Machete? Definitely not. Numb-chucks? Really? Who are we kidding. Battle axe? Hmm, probably not. Unless you’re a viking, then maybe.

Perhaps this will help…



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Spider Problem

Lately I feel like that kid from the movie Aliens…”They mostly come out at night. Mostly.”

The scary thing is these spiders aren’t too far a cry from those creepy face-sucking aliens – both in size and attitude. It seems these eight-legged invaders are everywhere and have no qualms about making themselves known. Of course when you’re a spider the size of a half-dollar you’re kinda hard to miss. Let’s see, so far I’ve stepped on one with my bare-feet. That was unpleasant. I’ve found one in my bedroom that then escaped into my closet. I now spend my mornings shaking out my clothes before getting dressed. Then there was the one who scampered into the kitchen and the one that scampered across the living room floor – both spiders meeting a tragic end with my shoe. But then, just today, I found one in my shoe. Perhaps they had sent a scout to investigate this squashing device in an attempt to dismantle it. Thankfully I was vacuuming and had just picked up my shoes to move them when this little gem of a creature fell to the ground with a thud! (Honestly, they’re that big) Can you imagine if I’d actually been putting that shoe on? An operatic scream would have been heard throughout the land followed by a shoe crashing unceremoniously through a window.

Alas, I spend my evenings now hiding in an air duct beneath the floors with my dog and the disembodied head of her favorite stuffed animal, waiting out the night until daybreak chases these creatures back into their nest where they are undoubtably hatching more of their creepy kind. My only hope now is to dress in cargo pants, a tight tank top and arm myself with a bazooka can of Raid and a flamethrower. But as I foresee locating a flamethrower to be a tad difficult a heavy-duty flyswatter may have to suffice.

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