(no subject)
It's 7:00 pm and I'm getting sick of AIM. I go pee and decide that I need to give my apartment a deep cleansing.
So I start with the bathroom. This goes relatively well and painless with the exception that I think I need industrial strength toilet bowl cleaner. ANYWAY.
I move to the "living room" if that's what you want to call this closet. Clean, clean, clean. Vacuum, vacuum, vacuum. Sterilize, sterilize, sterilize. That was fun.
OKAY, now to the reason I'm taking the time to type this up. I go into my bed room to pick things off the floor so I can vacuum. I pick up some socks and move a jacket out from underneath my bed. I look at the jacket, "What's that on the sleeveOMIGOD IT'S A MOTHER FUCKING SPIDER THE SIZE OF MY HEAD COOL."
I calmly stare at it, it stares back at me. I stare at it some more. It stares back at me with an expression of "Pshh, 'sup you pussy bitch?" This enrages me. I look about my surroundings in an attempt to find something to kill it with; apparently I had forgotten about the shoes that were attached to my feet. What do I find next to me? My airsoft pistol.
My brain chimes in, "Ande, you should probably just step on it." I respond back, "SHUT IT BRAIN THIS WILL BE MORE FUN." I load it with one shot and aim. As I aim, my brain shuts down my concentration capabilities and says, "Ande, I really think you should just go step on him, then it will be over with." I say, "BRAIN, STFU, I'VE DONE THIS ONE HUNDRED BILLION TIMES WITH OTHER BUGS. I'M NOT GOING TO MISS, YOU SUCK BRAIN." I take aim again. I'm about to pull the trigger when brain says, "Ande, you're going to miss, you should really step on him." At this point I ignore my brain and take aim.
I slowly pull the trigger....
"OH SON OF A BITCH I FUCKING MISSED!" As the spider then runs under my bed, I frantically attempt to mush the spider with my foot. Meanwhile my brain lets out a "sigh" and releases various chemicals to get me into hunt mode. I sit there...watching...waiting for a sign of movement from anywhere outside my bed. Nothing. Son of a bitch. Did I step on him? I don't see a body. Every good hunter knows you don't consider the job done without confirming the kill. The hunt is on.
I get fetch my already set up vacuum and turn it on. I equip it with the long attachment hose and prepare myself for battle. I crouch into attack mode and slowly look under my bed. I look, and look, and look, nothing. Son of a bitch. I do this for a good amount of time. Meanwhile, my brain laughs at me and flashes in front of my eyes thoughts of the spider being in my room while I sleep. Doing victory dances on my head. Crawling all over me. Maybe pooping on me. This enrages me.
My brain stops it's gloating about how it was right and starts producing ideas. I need light. I go over to my lamp and take off the lamp shade. I'm now armed with my electric torch and my vacuum cleaner with the long hose extension. I again, crouch into attack mode and search, nothing. Absolutely. Freaking. Nothing. Another good amount of time passes as I prod the underside of my bed with my electric torch and hose. I see a lone shirt on my floor. I slowly walk to the shirt.
I look at the shirt and adjust the grip on my extension hose and electric torch. I take another step and start to breathe heavily. I can feel sweat start to collect on my forehead, my muscles tense and quiver. I can see my veins full of blood from my heart that is pumping twice as hard. I lean down to touch the shirt with my electric torch...I push the shirt to try and flip it. At the same time I unknowingly suck the back of my pants with the vacuum cleaner hose. PSHHHTTHHHH AHHH AHHH MOTHER FUCKING SHIT SHIT AHHHH *POP* GODLSJFLWKEJ#$LK%j4SFL:KEj4lkjL:KflGOD DAMNTI. I damn near shit myself. Oh and that "pop?" That's the light bulb from my electric torch breaking when I threw it at the shirt in fear. Real cool.
By now I'm pretty pissed off.
Perhaps he blindly ran somewhere else. The closet? No. Under my desk? No. Backpacks? Camera bags? Mounds of paper? NONONONOFUCKINGNO. My brain laughs and flashes images again. This time of a spider watching my frantic search of it. It's sits there, perhaps on a wall, laughing at me. Giggling and laughing so hard it cries out of its 20 billion eyes. It's laughing at me, calling all of its spider friends, telling them about the idiot that can't find him. This INFURIATES me.
I manically rip off my blankets, my sheets, and my pillows. I let out a "fuck". I lift my bed and look at the underside for any sign of this piece of shit. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? Fuck this, I turn off the vacuum cleaner and grab my kitchen knife. We're going one on one spider. Me and you. I get down and hunt for the spider. I search every corner of the room, every drawer, behind every printer, scanner, speaker, book, and box. Nothing. Nothing at all.
Tired and defeated, I concede to the crafty spider. I sit in my chair and cry. To make myself feel better, my brain gives me the idea that this was a ghost spider. There was no actual spider, just a ghost of one that I have killed before. This makes me feel better about myself and gives me a sense of security.
I'm hungry.
So I start with the bathroom. This goes relatively well and painless with the exception that I think I need industrial strength toilet bowl cleaner. ANYWAY.
I move to the "living room" if that's what you want to call this closet. Clean, clean, clean. Vacuum, vacuum, vacuum. Sterilize, sterilize, sterilize. That was fun.
OKAY, now to the reason I'm taking the time to type this up. I go into my bed room to pick things off the floor so I can vacuum. I pick up some socks and move a jacket out from underneath my bed. I look at the jacket, "What's that on the sleeveOMIGOD IT'S A MOTHER FUCKING SPIDER THE SIZE OF MY HEAD COOL."
I calmly stare at it, it stares back at me. I stare at it some more. It stares back at me with an expression of "Pshh, 'sup you pussy bitch?" This enrages me. I look about my surroundings in an attempt to find something to kill it with; apparently I had forgotten about the shoes that were attached to my feet. What do I find next to me? My airsoft pistol.
My brain chimes in, "Ande, you should probably just step on it." I respond back, "SHUT IT BRAIN THIS WILL BE MORE FUN." I load it with one shot and aim. As I aim, my brain shuts down my concentration capabilities and says, "Ande, I really think you should just go step on him, then it will be over with." I say, "BRAIN, STFU, I'VE DONE THIS ONE HUNDRED BILLION TIMES WITH OTHER BUGS. I'M NOT GOING TO MISS, YOU SUCK BRAIN." I take aim again. I'm about to pull the trigger when brain says, "Ande, you're going to miss, you should really step on him." At this point I ignore my brain and take aim.
I slowly pull the trigger....
"OH SON OF A BITCH I FUCKING MISSED!" As the spider then runs under my bed, I frantically attempt to mush the spider with my foot. Meanwhile my brain lets out a "sigh" and releases various chemicals to get me into hunt mode. I sit there...watching...waiting for a sign of movement from anywhere outside my bed. Nothing. Son of a bitch. Did I step on him? I don't see a body. Every good hunter knows you don't consider the job done without confirming the kill. The hunt is on.
I get fetch my already set up vacuum and turn it on. I equip it with the long attachment hose and prepare myself for battle. I crouch into attack mode and slowly look under my bed. I look, and look, and look, nothing. Son of a bitch. I do this for a good amount of time. Meanwhile, my brain laughs at me and flashes in front of my eyes thoughts of the spider being in my room while I sleep. Doing victory dances on my head. Crawling all over me. Maybe pooping on me. This enrages me.
My brain stops it's gloating about how it was right and starts producing ideas. I need light. I go over to my lamp and take off the lamp shade. I'm now armed with my electric torch and my vacuum cleaner with the long hose extension. I again, crouch into attack mode and search, nothing. Absolutely. Freaking. Nothing. Another good amount of time passes as I prod the underside of my bed with my electric torch and hose. I see a lone shirt on my floor. I slowly walk to the shirt.
I look at the shirt and adjust the grip on my extension hose and electric torch. I take another step and start to breathe heavily. I can feel sweat start to collect on my forehead, my muscles tense and quiver. I can see my veins full of blood from my heart that is pumping twice as hard. I lean down to touch the shirt with my electric torch...I push the shirt to try and flip it. At the same time I unknowingly suck the back of my pants with the vacuum cleaner hose. PSHHHTTHHHH AHHH AHHH MOTHER FUCKING SHIT SHIT AHHHH *POP* GODLSJFLWKEJ#$LK%j4SFL:KEj4lkjL:KflGOD DAMNTI. I damn near shit myself. Oh and that "pop?" That's the light bulb from my electric torch breaking when I threw it at the shirt in fear. Real cool.
By now I'm pretty pissed off.
Perhaps he blindly ran somewhere else. The closet? No. Under my desk? No. Backpacks? Camera bags? Mounds of paper? NONONONOFUCKINGNO. My brain laughs and flashes images again. This time of a spider watching my frantic search of it. It's sits there, perhaps on a wall, laughing at me. Giggling and laughing so hard it cries out of its 20 billion eyes. It's laughing at me, calling all of its spider friends, telling them about the idiot that can't find him. This INFURIATES me.
I manically rip off my blankets, my sheets, and my pillows. I let out a "fuck". I lift my bed and look at the underside for any sign of this piece of shit. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? Fuck this, I turn off the vacuum cleaner and grab my kitchen knife. We're going one on one spider. Me and you. I get down and hunt for the spider. I search every corner of the room, every drawer, behind every printer, scanner, speaker, book, and box. Nothing. Nothing at all.
Tired and defeated, I concede to the crafty spider. I sit in my chair and cry. To make myself feel better, my brain gives me the idea that this was a ghost spider. There was no actual spider, just a ghost of one that I have killed before. This makes me feel better about myself and gives me a sense of security.
I'm hungry.