I Have Arachnophob–GAHH GET IT OFF ME!

I’ve heard that the reason the insects, and spiders, are so numerous this year is because of the heat.  apparently insects and arachnids are cold-blooded, so on warm years they mate and successfully breed more.  Which is I say we need to end Global Warming; who cares about Polar Bears, eternal winter will ensure the end of my arch-nemesis: Spiders.

In case you aren’t aware, I’ve had a skirmish or two, with spiders before.  But my fiancée has kept me fairly passive in my dealings with them lately, mostly through guilting me into it.  I knocked a spider off my van’s mirror and stomped it recently, thwarting it from building a web, or as I like to call it a forward base of operations.  She berated for murdering a homeless creature just trying to build a shelter for itself.

So I’ve been sparing the lives of spiders for the past couple of months.  But that ended a few days ago…when I got bit by one of the bastards.  Our peace agreement has been nullified!  I was taking down the flag at sunset and the bastard was laying in ambush on the halyard.  It bit me right on the index finger of my right hand.  It wasn’t deadly poisonous, but I lost feeling in my hand for a few minutes and my finger swelled and was numb for about 6 or so hours (it bit the vein in my middle knuckle, so that probably exacerbated things).

This was after catching a ninja assassin spider trying to kill me in the van the other night.  My fiancée came up to my window and told me she had a present for me.  I rolled the window down and in popped a spider, hanging from a single silken thread.  He was a little dazed, but I remained calm and collected and glared at my fiancée as a visual cue to…save my pussy ass.  She used a candy bar, which was my present by the way, to catch the spider.  She smiled at me softly and commended my courage saying, “I’m proud of how you handled that.  You didn’t scream, you didn’t pull out your gun and try to shoot it or anything.”  At which point I sheepishly mewed, “But what you don’t realize is…I shit my pants.”  Filled with faith in my courage she immediately gasped and said, “Wholly shit did you really?”  “No…not really…but if it had landed on my arm, instead of just dangling there; I make no promises.”  She then let the spider go, shaking it from the candy bar, in the driveway.

So long story short…I threw the bitch in gear and I ran the little bastard over…then I ate the candy bar.

Needless to say, I have a mite bit of arachnophobia, if you aren’t aware.  Our newest video on the YouTube channel has a bit of commentary on that fact.


Lick ’em?  C’mere you crusty bastard, I’ll suck your dick if it means I get to avoid those cars!

My Epic Fight

Today I battled a mighty creature!  A creature born of pure terror, of fear itself, the fright incarnate known as…a spider.  What makes the spider so frightening?  Well, aside from my arachnophobia the fact that it was the size of a golf ball!  That might not seem like much, but imagine a golf ball that can bite you and runs faster than a two-year-old on a mission to break something.

I was just sitting in my chair, calmly minding my own business, as well as my own territory.  Then, suddenly and without warning (which is kind of a redundant phrase, isn’t it?), this spider flies out from behind a wall and scurries under my desk.

I immediately go about defending my rightful territory from this base and vile, not to mention venomous, invader by nearly falling out of my chair as I scurry away from my desk.

The spider came out from under the desk and faced off with me, knowing full well that he had me outgunned and outmaneuvered.  He was faster than I was (and did I mention more venomous?) and all I had was the shoes on my feet, which I wasn’t willing to take off and throw at him, meaning I had no projectile capabilities.

Breaking through my fears I realized I had another weapon at my disposal.  I had a can…of compressed duster air!  I immediately grabbed for it, but was alarmed to find it felt rather empty.

I shook it hastily, while the spider taunted me by bristling its giant fangs…or its front legs or something.  The can had something left in it, but I didn’t know how much.  It might be one short burst, it might be three; I would just have to risk it, I knew!

So I fearlessly engaged the spider, blowing it across the room with a burst of compressed air.  It landed on its back, but quickly righted itself, even so the battle was over.

Or was it?!  The spider slowly meandered back toward my desk.  He had been beaten and yet still he was determined to take my very life, if necessary, to conquer my desk!

I leaped into action again, still risking my finite ammunition stores, and blasted twice more.  He fled under a chair, but I knew there would be no safety for my territory as long as he lived.  This Osama bin Spiden was out to destroy me, to destroy my territory, if not my very life, itself.

I couldn’t very well tap my own phone line or use overhead cameras…mostly because spiders don’t use phones and the camera above me doesn’t pan or tilt and has about a one-tenth megapixel view.

I had no other choice, I had to go on the counteroffensive and take the fight to Spider Country.  I kicked the chair…quickly finding out it was locked in place by the table beside it.

Nursing a sprained ankle (damn that crafty spider and his dastardly booby traps!), I unlocked the chair from the table and kicked it again, exposing my undeterred nemesis.  I hit him with two more bursts, possibly my last two bursts, of air from my hand-cannon (which is a way cooler weapon name than duster air canister).

Reeling from the massive assault from my air cannon, I leapt upon him to engage in brutal, grappling, melee combat!  The fight was over in mere seconds as he dodged my first blow and parried my second by rolling back onto his belly.  But he was too uncoordinated from my air cannon (too subtle that I’m proud of that one?) to wage a viable counter offensive.

My ferocious shoe came down upon him, not once, not twice…but about fifty-six times (y’know, just to be sure), and with that he was quite dead.


Wait, was that a twitch?  Fifty-seven!

Turns out that I’d been the one to twitch, but that’s beside the point.  The fact of the matter is that I conquered my dangerous nemesis and successfully defended my territory from a vicious, venomous, and vindictive foe thanks to my vivacious and visceral fighting maneuvers.


Okay…maybe not a golf ball, but definitely a kidney bean with legs.  A really big, thick, kidney bean…with legs…and fangs…and a handgun, maybe?