Spiders Are Dicks!!

Spiders are dicks!  At least the ones around my house are.

Spiders in and around my house place their little (and not so little) webs in the most irritating places, in an effort (obviously) to catch and devour insects.  I notice their webs in the nooks and crannies throughout my abode.  In the corner, between the wall, floor and counter.  There seems to be a monstrosity that repeatedly appears by my front door, almost daily, that seems to catch nothing but dirt and lint carried in from the outdoors.  There's a terribly large formidable one in the backyard that, to be quite honest, I'm a little afraid to approach.  The one thing that they all seem to have in common is: No insects!

I don't know if these spiders are catching insects and eating them before I notice anything or if they're just too stupid to actually catch anything.  They must be doing the former as some of these spiders grow to disgustingly large sizes, which then becomes a real problem for me.  I have arachnophobia!

I used to be deathly... And I do mean deathly afraid of spiders.  I'd see a spider and I'd almost shutdown physically.  I'd be like...  I don't want to say that I was "like a chick", because most women that I know, would always mock me as they strode by me to "rescue" me from the terrifying spider-monster.  Suffice it to say, I was a true wimp, when it came to dealing with spiders.  My fears, however, were well founded, though.

A few years ago, while living in a basement suite on the east side of Saskatoon, I fell "victim" to a spider bite.  A couple times, to be exact.  One time a spider bit me on my shin and the skin in that region, literally dissolved away.  It was several months of applying ointments and changing bandages before the flesh in that area finally healed.  Then it happened a second time, but on my big toe.  That bite had more lasting effects, of which I continue to experience to this day.  The flesh grew back, after much speculation by doctors and specialists on whether or not to amputate the appendage.  However, my foot has been numb ever since.  It's been over ten years since I've felt my left foot.

Needless to say, with the exception of the Spider-Man movies, I'm not real stoked on spiders.  On the plus side, my deathly fear of them has subsided enough to where I can throw down extreme vengeance on them.  I see a spider and I can grab a paper towel and go in for the kill.  I see a web I don't want, I grab a lighter.  (FYI - Be very careful, as some of these motherf*ckers can go off like a Roman candle.)

For the most part, though..; Spiders are dicks!!  What prompts this belief, besides the fact that sometimes my shoe will fall off my left foot and because of the lack of feeling, I won't notice this.  Thankfully, it only happens around the house (and only once at the Costco -- Only noticed because I inadvertently kicked it ahead of me. *True story.)

In addition to the spider epidemic in my household, I have trouble with ants.  This year, they've not been the problem that they've been in recent years.  Not indoors, anyway.  However, outside, next to the door leading into my garage, there are swarms of them.  They've dug through the concrete and burrowed through the wall.  There are droves and droves of them inside and out.  Roaming freely among all the spider webs inside the garage.  I've bore witness to this.  Spiders sitting there watching the ants make a mockery out of them and all the while I'm thinking, "What the f*ck are you doing?"

Ants are insects.  Why the f*ck aren't the spiders doing anything to catch these little bastards?  Not meaty enough?  Maybe not one or two, but they could literally catch a thousand of these little f*ckwads, and have a buffet for all their little spider friends and family.  But no.  They just wanna sit there like dicks!!

I've poisoned the ants.  I've done this a couple of times in the last month and a half.  I would send the bill for the ant poison to the spiders, if I thought they would pay, but alas...  Spiders are dicks!

Letter to Mr. Ant

Dear Mr. Ant,

Out of all the lovely homes in the surrounding area of my house, you've chosen mine to inhabit.  Although, it has been quite a lovely year, thus far, weather-wise, you've taken up in the walls of my downstairs bathroom.  Whether you are here of your own volition or have conglomerated here as a member of your extensive family, I feel I should thank you, in part, for choosing my home to infest over everyone else's.  So thank you...., I guess.

However, I have a cat and he, alone, is more than a hand full.  Whether it's his constant whining and complaining or policing his mischievous character or repeatedly having to clean up his vomit, I have my hands full.  I'm not looking for anymore roommates.  

Even though, in all honesty, anytime I've stumbled across your masses creeping and crawling about my bathroom and lower living room, you all do seem fairly self-sufficient, of which I do appreciate.  However, in the end, you and your kind are not welcome in my house.

I thought you and your friends would've gotten the idea that you're not welcome, when you came across the slaughtered corpses of your mates.  Poisoned and (hopefully) experienced a painful and horrible death.  If I were taking up residence somewhere, uninvited, then came across some of my friends and family lying dead out in a field, whether I knew the reason behind their death's or not, I'd get the f*ck outta there.  Of course, I am a brilliant mind whose brain is not the size of a microbe.

Or the time I came across hundreds of you hugging the wall of my bathroom, engaged in some kind of "outdoor" festival, and I scooped you all up and flushed you.  That was a good time.  For me, anyway.  Not so much for your friends, I suppose.  But who doesn't enjoy a nice pool party?

Clearly reasoning doesn't appeal to your kind.  I know that despite all the f*cking poison I've put down you f*ckers aren't taking the f*cking hint.  So I've decided to allow you all to stay.... On one condition.

Using the aforementioned toilet, I've decided to use it to both of our advantages.  In addition to the poop and pee that is deposited in it on a daily basis, I've also incorporated it into this scenario.  Every time I come across one of you little motherf*ckers, I'm going to scoop you up and dump you into the toilet.  Admittedly, the bowl won't always be filled with just cool clean water, because let's face it, if I'm coming into that room, there's a predetermined reason behind it.  However, if you survive, you'll be all the more strong and will better appreciate your survival.

I will be scooping your skinny little asses into the bowl.  Poop, pee, or all of the above, I will flush the toilet.  Now.., your part of this plan is to swim against the current.  Swim against the swirling stormy waters, and IF (or when) you pull yourselves out, you are more than welcome to stay in my house for the rest of your natural lives.  Granted all you little f*ckers look alike, so there may be a time or two or always that you'll find yourself scooped up again and thrust back into the bowl.  In other words, get the f*ck outta my house!!!