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I was in the kitchen this afternoon, eating breakfast and talking to my dad about Finances when this huge, freaky spider dropped from the ceiling, out of NOWHERE (unless you're counting the ceiling as somewhere, which I am not), RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE. I scream, jump backwards, and effectively end (my side of) the conversation. Da babbles on for a bit, because he doesn't realize I'm terrorized here, and then says, "It's just a spider, Mel."
"JUST A SPIDER?" I mean seriously, this thing is taking up my entire field of vision, I'm so busy staring at it. Making sure it doesn't try and make a move, jump at my head, bite my face off. Or some other Evil Spidery Trick. "Dad. Spider. Hanging-from-the-ceiling-in-my-face!" I don't do spiders. He knows that. I don't-do spiders to an extraordinary degree.
"Ok how big is it?"
"Daad, spider!" He used to be all knight-in-shining-armor about chasing these things around my room and squashing them. What happened to that?
"Ok where is it?"
"Dude, RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING FACE." Like, a foot away. And wiggling.
And he stands up, looks around, and -- "Whoh" -- almost walks into the damned thing. And I'm like 'shitshit, SPIDER'S GONNA EAT MY DADDY!' which is not cool, and then he just... well, he kinda looks baffled for a bit, which is usual, and then he sort of half-claps once or twice and then smak! deals with it. Peels it off the palm of his hand and drops it on the table.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUW.
And then I went to the Amtrak station at the airport; failed at getting tickets; went with Mum and a lemon meringue pie over to my great-aunt's to celebrate all three of our birthdays at once; discussed Foucault, current political sexual viewpoints, and interior decorating; told her the clapper-switch for her light was on crack (she laughed hysterically); discussed BoP with Mum all the way back (and all the way there, actually, as she'd immediately answered my 'you know how everyone had imaginary friends when they were little and I never did? well I appear to have a few now' with: 'Kitten?', which, am I that obvious in RL? guess so); played GAMEUUUBE!! with Pidge (007-AUF and Soul Calibur II both with the game music off and the BoP playlist going instead); watched Velvet Goldmine (again with Pidge, who said, upon reading the opening credits with 'Ewan McGregor' ... 'Christian Bale', "Why do you always do this?" ("Do what?") "FIND ALL THE AWESOME MOVIES?! ... AND THEY ALL HAVE MAKEUP!"); came upstairs and made ravioli and went to bed.
Those last three words are speculation.
NIGHT!
"JUST A SPIDER?" I mean seriously, this thing is taking up my entire field of vision, I'm so busy staring at it. Making sure it doesn't try and make a move, jump at my head, bite my face off. Or some other Evil Spidery Trick. "Dad. Spider. Hanging-from-the-ceiling-in-my-face!" I don't do spiders. He knows that. I don't-do spiders to an extraordinary degree.
"Ok how big is it?"
"Daad, spider!" He used to be all knight-in-shining-armor about chasing these things around my room and squashing them. What happened to that?
"Ok where is it?"
"Dude, RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING FACE." Like, a foot away. And wiggling.
And he stands up, looks around, and -- "Whoh" -- almost walks into the damned thing. And I'm like 'shitshit, SPIDER'S GONNA EAT MY DADDY!' which is not cool, and then he just... well, he kinda looks baffled for a bit, which is usual, and then he sort of half-claps once or twice and then smak! deals with it. Peels it off the palm of his hand and drops it on the table.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUW.
And then I went to the Amtrak station at the airport; failed at getting tickets; went with Mum and a lemon meringue pie over to my great-aunt's to celebrate all three of our birthdays at once; discussed Foucault, current political sexual viewpoints, and interior decorating; told her the clapper-switch for her light was on crack (she laughed hysterically); discussed BoP with Mum all the way back (and all the way there, actually, as she'd immediately answered my 'you know how everyone had imaginary friends when they were little and I never did? well I appear to have a few now' with: 'Kitten?', which, am I that obvious in RL? guess so); played GAMEUUUBE!! with Pidge (007-AUF and Soul Calibur II both with the game music off and the BoP playlist going instead); watched Velvet Goldmine (again with Pidge, who said, upon reading the opening credits with 'Ewan McGregor' ... 'Christian Bale', "Why do you always do this?" ("Do what?") "FIND ALL THE AWESOME MOVIES?! ... AND THEY ALL HAVE MAKEUP!"); came upstairs and made ravioli and went to bed.
Those last three words are speculation.
NIGHT!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-14 02:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-14 03:21 pm (UTC)...*is still little girl, sometimes*
and also, I am TERRIFIED of spiders. girlfriend thinks it would be cute to have a pet tarantula. I say, when I move in, it's either me or the eight-legged-freak.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-14 06:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-14 03:22 pm (UTC)thank you for les sympathies.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-14 01:28 pm (UTC)Gods, you're lucky. I get lectured when I bring up my muses/semi-alter egos.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-14 02:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-14 03:25 pm (UTC)it was only a few years ago that I couldn't breathe if I saw the tiniest little spider.
Spider-man? The movie with the cute little guy whose name I can never spell playing Peter Parker? IT GIVES ME NIGHTMARES. NIIIIIGHTMARES.
je suis wimpy-ass arachniphobe.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-15 03:54 am (UTC)*shudders at the sheer thought*