Well, I Won't Be Going Here Anytime Soon...

That's right, the whole state is now off limits until they get this shit under control. Ick!

It's Possible We Have A New Cat

This is Rudy Huckleberry. So named because when we first saw him the week after we returned from vacation, his nose was bloody and red (as in our favorite reindeer). I know what you're thinking, What kind of surname is Huckleberry? Well, here's your answer for that.

After seeing him hanging out with the only remaining stray from the original group for about a week, we started seeing him only by himself. As you can imagine, I was worried. Clearly he's too damn small to be roaming the streets alone. Then about three weeks ago, as HUBS left for work, we spotted him on our front porch.

He was wet and covered in ants and pretty obviously hadn't eaten in days. After HUBS left I came back inside, outfitted myself with rubber gloves and a bath towel that's basically a rag and went and caught him. This wasn't hard since he was weak from malnourishment; I let him smell my hand for about five minutes and then scooped him up.



He's been living in our bathroom ever since. We have to keep him sequestered until he has all his shots/parasites taken care of so he doesn't give anything to our other felines, and so far things are going pretty good...With three exceptions.

Last night he and Shakes got into a paw war underneath the bathroom door (there's just enough room down there for some determined kitty paws). Unfortunately, Shakes got hold of one of Rudy's back paws and ripped the shit out of it with his claws. The poor guy bled kinda bad but he's walking and running alright, luckily. He's also having some stomach troubles today and hasn't eaten much. But I'm hoping we can take care of that at a vet visit tonight.

You know, though, how I know I really, really like cats now? Two weeks ago, right after I started him on some anti-parasite meds, I went to check on him and noticed he seemed uncomfortable. That led me to notice some hangers-on in Rudy's personal cat area, which I got paper towels to take care of.



Turns out the dingle berries weren't what was bothering him. [WARNING: CAT CONVERSATION ABOUT TO GET GRAPHIC REAL FAST!!] Rudy had parasites sticking out of his kitty butt. Yes. I know. And, no lie, you guys: I pulled them out*.

That, my friends, is kitty love and devotion. No shit.


*If you need to forget that image, check here. Awesomeness is assured.*

Yes, I'm Still Talking About Philly

As of today we've been back from our vacation for exactly a month. What's happened in this past month? Well, we've:

-Gotten sick and gotten better
-Buried a cat
-Picked up a stray kitten
-Bought all our Christmas presents
-Switched to cheaper cell phone plans with spiffy new smart phones
-Run out of money
-Then, within a week, had an unexpected period of financial security



Plus, I've:

-Impressed a new editor at work with my story ideas
-Written lists of employment and networking goals
-Reached out to some folks who could help me toward those ends (it's been over a week, haven't heard from any of them)

Not a bad list of things done, though of course I'd planned to get more accomplished immediately post vacay.

My biggest issue for the past few weeks has been getting enough rest. I keep saying I'm going to get ready for bed by 10:30 and then be in the bed trying to sleep an hour later. You know what I've actually been doing? Going to bed past 1 a.m. then getting up by nine the next morning, staying up all day and being exhausted but still not going to bed at night. I was up until three this morning! Then got up at nine! I'm silly with sleepless irresponsibility! But the nice thing is that I saw two shooting stars that made me feel really happy!!

Alright, I still have pictures to share, so here we go!






Delaware River


Ben Franklin Bridge






Joan of Arc


Schuylkill River


Tiger fight!


Prairie dog fight!


Hippo eyes!

Happy Friday! Amuse Yourselves

So, any plans this weekend? HUBS and I might be doing a double feature of X-Men: First Class and Super 8, but we haven't totally decided yet. Other than that I have an article to finish and a much needed hair appointment to attend. I know! I'm full of exciting times over here!

Until your weekend gets going full blast, enjoy some animal nonsense:









Enjoy the weekend, everyone!

And...We Have Kittens!

She did indeed have them on Monday. There's also a black one who had just vaulted over Miller's back to get to a nipple. Wrong way, dude!

I'll have more pics when they're less blind and wiggly.

I Am Nothing If Not A Sobbing Heap

I'm really glad I didn't post yesterday. I was feeling pretty good after the cat stuff on Tuesday. The Trapper was back, but no one took the bait. In fact this is as serious as it got:



That's Mollie sitting on top of a trap. There was lots of nuzzling and sniffing and sitting on, but no getting caught in traps. Apparently that was just because the universe knew I couldn't handle seeing it two days in a row. Know what the first thing I saw was when I woke up this morning and looked out my bedroom window? A cat getting caught in a trap.

I couldn't deal anymore. I called Animal Control to see if they can legally use our property for this. The chick behind the desk called Trapper who called the cops. Yes, the cops. Who then knocked on my door, with Trapper in tow, and explained how diseased and horrible the strays are and how coyotes feed off of them and how he's an animal lover too and he knows I just feel for them.

But, if I'm feeding them, I'm in violation of laws and they consider them my cats and I have to stop feeding them. And, Trapper will be outside my home every day for the next seven days doing her thing. If, on the seventh day cats are still coming around we'll get citations for each law we're breaking for each cat she sees.

So, there you have it. No more feeding the cats. I'm upset, angry, despondent, pissed I ever agreed to like cats at all. Three pieces of good news? HUBS and I will save about $20 a month not feeding the strays; they'll likely stop showing up within three days, so we are unlikely to get any tickets; and, we did pick up Julia last night. She's currently sequestered in our basement until we can get her shots/bathed/de-wormed/tested for various illnesses.

Here's my question: how would Trapper feel if she'd been locked in a cage for six days and then been expected to act perfectly nice and pleasant? Considering that she's already severely sawed off, she'd probably behave like a raging bitch-on-fire who'd have to be immediately put down. How exactly are the cats supposed to fare any better, on average?

I know there's no perfect solution, other than everybody keeping their animals spade/neutered and inside their houses, but this still sucks Trapper ass.

Though, I do feel good about Julia.

Heart. Is. Breaking.

So, you remember me telling you about all the stay cats in my neighborhood? Well, today County Animal Control stopped by and started rounding them up. I'm heartbroken. I talked with the lady who was setting the traps in my yard this morning and she said they hold them for a week to see if anyone claims them. Then? Then, if the cats don't look like they're good with people, they euthanize them.

After being tricked with food and trapped in a cage the cats only get one week to suddenly be good with people or they're dead. I hate this.

I had to stand there and watch as one of our favorites, Julia, got trapped in the cage. She was so scared. I'm just praying she calms down enough so that they can adopt her out. Unless we get money back from our taxes we won't be able to take her in. As it is we're already pretty full with three cats, but we are considering going to get Julia.


This is Julia in 2009, she was still a kitten. It's hard to believe we may never see her again.

Even worse, a pregnant cat (like Miller and Harris, the gray cats in the top photo) who doesn't get claimed in a week may be euthanized even if they are good with people. 'Cause who's adopting a pregnant cat? So even though Miller is super-adoptable (we pet her all the time and she loves it), she may be killed just because she's knocked up (if they catch her, I hope they don't).

My question is, where was County Animal Control four years ago when we moved in? The trapper I talked to today said that they noticed a problem so they're trying to take care of it, but there have been strays since we moved in. Why the fuck couldn't they have stepped up their efforts before HUBS and I and the guy across the street got attached to the stays?

I know we're not the ones who'll actually be physically hurt if they strays don't get adopted, but this feels like a giant Fuck you and everything you care about! from the universe. Especially after all the loss my family has suffered. It's like one more Ha HA, try to deal with THIS! from life. (And yes, I know life gives us those on a regular basis to keep us on our toes and grateful for the good things and yada yada...Doesn't make this any easier. Pitiful as it may be I feel like these cats are my friends.)

I HATE HATE HATE THIS TUESDAY. And I really hope you're having a better day than me. Really better.

Stud Pants and Princess Panties: Two Phrases You Need To Know

Cats in maxi pads...I am embarrassed for all involved...Especially the cats.

Music Monday: Kitten Rescue!

HUBS and I did something that felt really good on Saturday; we rescued a one month old kitten.

We were about to eat dinner when HUBS looked out the window and saw a tiny kitten following some of the other strays around. We'd never seen this one before, but earlier in the day a neighbor knocked on our door because his mom had sent him to ask us what to do about a bunch of kittens wandering around in their driveway.

Why'd she send him to us? 'Cause the whole street knows we're the cat people. Observe our front yard on a daily basis:



Anyway, it was pretty obvious that this kitten got away from that other bunch because he was so small and aimlessly following the others, meowing and praying someone was his mom. The other cats were not being nice to the little guy, so we went out to see if he'd let us catch him.

It took about ten minutes but I was finally able to sneak up on him and scoop our new pal up. HUBS ran inside, covered our dinners, got my purse and his keys and we set out for the Humane Society. We got there in about 20 minutes and in that very short time came up with a name for him: Murray Von Katenstein. I think it suits him well, what do you think?



So, for this Music Monday, I'm sharing some songs to rescue kittens to. Enjoy!

I Didn't Tell You About The Ants, Did I?

Last Sunday was awesome. I cannot tell you guys how wonderful it is to walk into your kitchen at 10 am on a Sunday morning to find ants swarming all over the counter, sink, stove and cabinets. Actually, I can tell you: IT WAS HORRIFYING.

Now, for the past couple of months I'd seen ants here and there around the house. Finally, a couple of weeks ago, I did something about it by drawing a chalk outline around all the windows (I saw this work - ants really don't like chalk), which is where I figured they were coming from. I didn't see any ants for a few days and then BAM! Kitchen Ant Farm City.

As you can imagine this was way worse than having a couple of ants in the living room, bedroom and bathroom. Since, you know, the kitchen in where our food is. I had to spray the sink, counter tops, cabinets and floors about three times in two days, and it took until last Friday for me to stop seeing any ants at all. And, at the same time all this was going on, we discovered we have an actual fucking hole in our bathroom sink pipe. Since nothing is ever easy around here, the hole is in the pipe that goes into the wall, not the one we could easily replace. Yay!

Home ownership is such a joy, isn't it?

Because We Have No Sense Of Proportion

Even more personalities in our tiny, little house. Poor Tux.

I have continually neglected to write about the fact the HUBS and I now have two additional cats. Even though we'd looked into getting another cat last summer (which didn't pan out), these additions were totally by accident. (By the way, this post is long, but if you care about cat stuff it should be a fairly rewarding read for you.)

Last September, HUBS and I came home one Sunday to find two kittens huddled up together in the middle of the street. They didn't move as our car drove up, so HUBS honked at them. They didn't budge. I got out of the car to shoo them along...Still, no moving. I had to literally get right up on them and scream to scare them off. We decided that these kittens were absolutely not ready for the world of a stray cat if they didn't move for a car careening toward them, and set out to catch them and take them to the Humane Society.

They were teeny, so we got Tux's carrier and HUBS suited up in long sleeves, gloves and a hat to prepare for The Inevitable Clawing. When we came back outside one kitten was across the street and one was in our walkway with some other strays. We went for the closest one first.

This was a kitten we'd been keeping our eyes on and had named Shakes because when you got close to him he wouldn't move but would begin to shake uncontrollably. Shakes was so out of it, that HUBS was able to sneak up on him and catch him without much trouble. We got the little guy into the carrier with a minimum of screeching and scratching. Once he was in there and realized he couldn't get out, Shakes totally took a nap.

Now we had to head across the street to our neighbor Fred's driveway where Shakes' apparent brother was hiding. Fuck, that kitten was fast! We chased him all over the driveway and yard and finally gave up when it became obvious he was completely capable of avoiding capture. We named him Speedy for this very reason.

We headed with Shakes to the Humane Society, as planned, to give him up. Then the intake lady explained that if we left him there they wouldn't give us any info on how he was doing or if he got adopted or anything. We'd have to make a total clean break. I was almost ok with that...Until she added that if they couldn't un-sick Shakes they'd have to put him down.

Holy God. Guys, I started to cry. I'd seen so many anonymous cats die in the past few months that the idea of Shakes dying without us getting to know him made me really fucking upset. HUBS asked if I wanted to take him and I said yes without hesitation. When we brought him home he was about 5 weeks old, had parasites, a shit load of fleas and a terrible upper respiratory infection. And, he looked like this:



After months of several-times-a-day medicine, a shit storm of shots and vaccinations and getting him fixed in February so he would stop dry humping the other stray we took in, he looks like this:



Also known as Shaker Cat, Shakers, Sir Shakelton and Dammit Cat Stop It!

The story of our second cat is a bit less traumatic. Luanne Sugarbaker (long lost sister of Julia and Suzanne Sugarbaker - two other strays) spent a full two weeks sleeping day and night either in our yard or on our front porch. About a week into taking care of Shakes, we came home one Friday night to find Luanne on our porch. She let HUBS pet her and then let him pick her up. If you know anything about stray cats they DO NOT DO THIS. They are extremely wary of people, and for good reason.

I begged HUBS to put her down and not get any more attached. We already had two cats. Shakes was sick and needed to be kept away from Tux, meaning we had to lock him away in the bathroom and if we took in another sick pet (she pretty obviously had the same upper respiratory infection Shakes was battling) we'd have to lock her away in a totally separate location. Which would mean the basement. Which would mean Tux's litter box would have to go in the kitchen...Near the stove.

HUBS got his bearings and we walked into the house to put down our things. We turned around to close the door and little Luanne was in the house. Right behind us, in our living room. HUBS gave me a look that said Look! She's in the house! She wants us to love her! Pleeeeeeaaaassseee?! I gave in way quicker than I should have, but that's how we took in Luanne.

Now, her before and after:



Also known as Lou, Lady Big Paws and Oh My God You're So Weird

Things We've Done Recently

We have had an interesting time of it lately. Here's what's been going on...



1)On the first Tuesday of this month, I noticed a opossum hanging out in our neighbor's driveway in the middle of the day. And it freaked me out, I thought that's all we need now, opossums running amok during the day. Well, by the same time the following day, that poor thing was dead. I guess it was sick and disoriented and that's why it was hanging out during daylight.

2) Almost two months to the day after this, I found another cat left in the road in front of our house. HUBS was at work, so I had to dig the grave myself. I don't think I'd ever really used a shovel before, and I was not very good at it. A lot of that had to do with it being hot and me being very sad. I named her Sheila and put her in the little dirt pile left after we got the tree in the front yard removed. Our neighbor, Fred, saw me digging and when he realized why got very upset. He puts out food and water for the strays like we do. When I said that someone must have hit her with their car her responded angrily with "Who! Who hit her!" and I appreciated his seeming desire to find the person and make them wish they had driven more carefully.

Then, two days later on Saturday, after a night of really hard, ridiculous raining, I went to put out food for the strays and found another kitten in the street. It was all very dramatic; me running through our flooded front walk, out into the rain and picking him up. He was wet and cold and already long gone. I brought him into the house and covered him in our doormat until HUBS could find a spot to bury him. I named him Stanley. RIP Sheila 9/3/09 and Stanley 9/5/09.


Boat. Not as big as you may have imagined.

3) That same day we went to Grafton, IL to see life-sized reproductions of Columbus' Pinta and Nina in dock. I was too upset about Stanley and Sheila to have a good time. Also, we went with his parents. They thought I was just tired. I realized that every time I've seen them this year has been on a day I was already in a crap-ass mood about something else. God only knows what they think is wrong with me!

4) With three cat deaths in two months we (me, HUBS and Fred) were starting to think it was time to get some of the strays adopted. Fred and I made calls to the Humane Society of MO, but they don't pick up strays. Animal control will give out humane cages to catch the animals, but a) they only give you one at a time, and that would take forever around here where we've got about 30 cats wandering our street; and b) if they don't have room for them after getting a clean bill of health, they still euthanize them. None of us wanted that, so we're leaving the cats alone. I still can't decide if that's really the right thing, though. Ideas?


Manny and the freakish eyes.

5) Life hasn't been all bad. For a brief period of time last week, we adopted a praying mantis that was hanging around our windows. HUBS named it Manny, which could be short for Manuela if it was a female. It was odd how responsive it was. More so than any other bug/insect I've seen. If you looked out the window at Manny, his head would immediately swivel to look at you. And if you moved around in the window you could actually see his eyes following you. HUBS looked up some mantis facts and found out they have 5 eyes, can see 60 feet and their heads turn 180 degrees. Freaky! After two days Manny moved on (we hope none of the kittens got him) and now we kinda miss the little freak.

6) During one of my many times at the window watching Manny, I accidentally saw him poop. Don't ask.

7) In a break from watching Everwood Season 2 or Friday Night Lights Season 3, I looked out to make sure no cats were in need anywhere. I found a baby opossum and a kitten eating the remainder of the food I'd put out that day. That damn kitten just couldn't leave well enough alone, and kept trying to play with the opossum's thick, ugly tail while it was eating. Opossum baby was coming real close to attacking the kitten because of it, so I stepped outside hoping to scare them off. Uh, you know they both just stood there and stared at me, right? For like a full two minutes, before opossum baby finally ran away. Baby animal crisis averted. See how brave I am when I can hide most of my body behind our front door?

8) Last Friday night, on our way to one of my bar reviews, we saw a opossum get run over by a car. Now, let me just say that I am no opossum fan. They are creepy, disgusting looking and I've heard they're pretty mean. But, I don't want to watch anything suffer, and Goddammit that thing suffered. It was horrible to see. I'll leave it at that.

9) With all this death-of-animals stuff going on, I asked my mom last week if she thought it was some kind of sign. She believes in that type of thing and so do I. I mean, I was starting to worry that God, The Universe, Whatever wasn't getting through to me about something so they were using dead animals to get me to notice what the fuck ever I need to notice. My mom didn't think so, and that really helped ease my mind. It might sound crazy, but there you go.

10) Speaking of my mom, we went to a job fair together last Wednesday with one of my aunts. Mom got laid off after her brother died back in April and hadn't really been looking for work much yet, but heard that the companies at this fair didn't need to see people with degrees, which was good for her. Unfortunately, she got some misinformation. But we still got our resumes to the company she was hoping to talk with. And, I got lots of goodies from the company tables at the fair. Thank you Brown Shoe Company, I've always wanted a tiny pomegranate lip balm!

11) I also spent a day last week trying to help my mom get her room organized. See, she's become quite the hoarder of paper; she's thrown very little away for the past 14years. Her bedroom is filled with bags, boxes and baskets of old bills and mail. How did this happen? Oh, that's easy; it's my bastard father's fault.

See, back in 1994 when he left her, he bought over $3,000 worth of crap for his new place on their shared credit card...And then filed for bankruptcy. So, for years and years they came after my mom for the money. For things she never bought or even saw. She has been afraid to throw anything away for fear that if she couldn't hide from them anymore she wouldn't have the proof that she never bought that crap and shouldn't have to pay for it.

That crap finally fell off her credit report in 2002, but she can't stop saving things. When I went into her room last week I realized that she even has papers under her pillow and comforter, under the bed, in the closet and in the laundry room. I didn't know how bad it was. So I decided to help her get things straight. I was there one day from 10am to almost 7pm and we cleared out three baskets filled with old bills, receipts and pay stubs dated 1995 to 1998. We have a long way to go.

12)Last Friday our house was almost eaten by a woodpecker. I heard this horrible noise that sounded like someone was trying to pick open our locks, looked out the window and saw nothing. The noise kept coming, and it was freaking out Tux, too. I looked out again and this time looked toward the top of the door and found the bird pecking away at the door frame. I beat on the door and got it to leave for a bit, but it came back to the same spot and tried to make a home. Finally the thing got tired and went someplace else. Is that crazy, or what?


Miller, on the left, with her sister Harris. Miller is currently the only stray that likes to have us pet her.

13) Again with the death. I woke up Monday afternoon (that's right, I'm unemployed and loving the freedom) and saw a dead bird on the sidewalk. One of our favorite strays, Miller, eventually came and picked it up. I hope the bird wasn't diseased, I would hate for Miller to get sick and not be able to help her.

14) Do not believe the hype about ladybugs. When I was burying Sheila, one landed on my arm and bit the shit out of me leaving a nasty little bump behind. I am not happy with you, ladybug!

15) We have a bar stool in a corner of our bedroom where I keep a favorite pair of shoes. I went to put them on Saturday and found a cricket up there with its...Aw hell, I'm gonna say it, poop. What is it with us and droppings?


I'll have a special paw gun made if I have to, Sebastian.

16) And...Just a few minutes ago, I watched one of the strays (we call her Sebastian) fight a pretty big snake...IN OUR FRONT YARD. It wasn't just in the front yard, either. It was dangerously close to the front door. Sebastian kept getting tired and walking away to lie down for a bit, and every time I hoped she'd come back with a tiny little gun and blow that snake away. I watched her for over a half hour, and then ran around putting glue boards (thank you, Orkin Man!) down near every basement window, the front door and two openings around the back door on our deck.

Can I just say, internet, I'm tired of nature, death and shit. Absolutely wiped.

A Bear Will Not Be Eating My Head This Year, No Siree

See those buildings? I prefer being around things like that. Yeah.

HUBS and I had a ridiculously hard week last week. We worked our silly little asses off and I will talk about it at some point, but not right now.

Right now, I will discuss with you, internet, how I, citygirl, almost went into the woods.

HUBS' folks rent some cabin thingy in the middle of Nowhere, MO called Bunker Hill. Every year his parents and his sister, Tiny Sarcasm's family go up there for a weekend. This year they invited us.

Now, I have said this many times on this blog and elsewhere, but here it is again: I do not like outdoorsy things. I do not like bugs, sleeping in cabins, going to outhouses, wild animals running amok, being in the middle of nowhere, or excessive no-one-around-to-hear-me-scream quiet. His people know this. And yet, they invited me to the woods.

I'm sure it was perfectly innocent. Anyway, HUBS really wanted to go, so (for him and for him only) I briefly considered it. But, only on the condition that he do several things for me in return. Boy, making this list was fun...

If I Go To The Woods 8/1/09

1. Small trip to see band I like and HUBS hates. (There aren't many of these, but I'm sure I could find at least one)

2. Two days of Tickle With Impunity. (I get to tickle him, he does not get to ask me to stop)

3. Pluck or shave all body hair I distrust. (HUBS has weird little hairs here and there that he simple refuses to let me remove. This would be my shot)

4. Four days of loading & emptying dishwasher. (He refuses to do both things unless he sees I'm really angry about something else, and yet I almost always do both by myself)

5. Go to museum 1 day every weekend until I say stop. (He likes museums, so this isn't really punishment just a way to get us to do this thing I've been talking about for months now)

6. Paint my toenails. (HUBS has such an aversion to my feet, even when sparkling clean, that this would be too good to pass up)

7. Four days of no slap blocking. (Occasionally, HUBS does things that I need to give him a little whack on the arm/chest/back for. Here, he is not allowed to block me)

8. Two nights of cooking dinner, not burgers/fries/pasta. (He claims this is all he can cook, he's pretty smart though, so I'm sure he can read recipe instructions)

9. Five days of facing me when we talk in bed. (HUBS looks like a pirate when he lays in bed, I like to see this when we talk, but he often turns away from me to "rest that side". Not this week, buddy)

Since I will not be getting paid for the assload of deep, hard physical labor I did last week on HUBS behalf, I'm considering putting these into practice as payment even thought we're not going into the woods. Wait, you say. Why aren't you going into the woods? Well, two awesomely good reasons.

One. It would cost money (!). And, two, the very same day his parents called about us going, just hours later when I was napping, I had a dream that I was standing in the woods near a creek minding my own business and a bear came up behind me and ate my head off my body in one bite. So, no, I really do not think so. At all.

But hey, HUBS' folks, thanks for asking.

Some Good

About two weeks after this happened, we discovered a family of kittens living under our deck. See...



There were four orange kittens and a mom hiding there. What's interesting is that when we found Oliver in the street I was afraid he was the one who'd come to eat when I put food out and meow all the time. It was a raspy, growly meow that I liked to hear. Turns out, it was this momma cat. I've named her Harley.



They moved out after about a week and headed for our neighbor Fred's backyard, but we still see them around. And, we've been visited by the new kitten family (we call mom Harris, she has blue eyes) living in the empty yard next door.

All of this is by way of saying, this almost makes up for Oliver. Though, I do worry about those kittens a lot.

Currently...

I think this is the one we call Chester (we've got about 7 orange cats running around here).

I'm pretty sure my main purpose in life is to feed my neighborhood strays. And you know what? I feel so unappreciated in general (mostly by people who could give me a job) that seeing them run out of their hiding places to greet me really makes my day most times. Especially when I don't even have food for them.

Yeah. Especially then.

He Loves Them More Than Me

Again with the critters.

HUBS and I took off for Target in Beesley (his yellow car) last night. I was driving and again I was fighting off a spider on my window. It was on the side-view at first and I tried to kill it, but missed. After rolling up my window and taking off, it wedged itself between the window and the little flap that keeps the window sealed.

Luckily, as long as we kept moving it stayed put. I was actually able to remain calm. There was minimal screaming and absolutely no crying. Yay, me! I mean, until I stopped the car in the parking lot at Target. Then I went insane.

citygirl: Ohhhhhhh, my God it's running get out and kill it get out and kiiiillll ittttt!!!!!!!!

HUBS: Ok, ok. Calm down, I need a napkin or something.

citygirl: AHHHHHHHHHCCKCKCKCKCKCK!! Moving running ACCCKCKCKCKCKAACACACACKKKKK!

HUBS: Alright, geez. I'm out...

Then, you guys, the unthinkable happened. HUBS had a very simple set of instructions: get out of the car, kill the spider. Um...he KNOCKED IT OFF THE CAR. With his precious napkin.

I'm like, what did you just do? You know what happened last week, how the hell do you not JUST KILL THE FUCKING SPIDER? HUBS actually watched it skitter off, to terrorize another day. I bet it crawled back onto his car. Why would it not? Nobody bothered to teach it a lesson, right?

Fine, HUBS. I see how you are. Just wait until the next time you're being attacked by wild dogs or something. Do you think you'll get any dog-killing power outta me? No sir. No sir, not at all...

What Have I Become?

The yellow car is the culprit.

Oh my God, you guys. I was going to tell you about last weekend for my next blog post, but what happened last night is much more interesting.

HUBS and I were on our way out to Qdoba for dinner. We had a two-for-one coupon and were very excited about the prospect of a semi-cheap din-din. Since HUBS had just gotten home from work, he requested that I drive his car, which I did.

So, we were almost on the highway when I noticed a spider on my window, right near the top where it was open a little. Now, if you remember, me and spiders in cars do NOT GET ALONG. I'm busy trying to drive so I can't kill them and I hate that. I feel powerless to stop the infestation, and me no likey that.

I started to freak a some, but not too bad. It was small, and not a black widow or anything , so not that immediately terrifying. HUBS tried to help me out. But, instead of grabbing one of the million-and-one napkins on his side of the car and killing it, he tried to flick it out the window. This, my friends, is when ALL TOTAL HELL broke loose. Our nemesis the spider DID NOT get sent outside.

IT FLEW INTO THE CAR. IT. WAS. ON. ME!

I find it really hard to explain what happened next. We were on the highway and I was driving and I saw the enemy land on me, but did not know where. I began to panic. And not a little "Oh crap!" kind of panic, but full-on panic attack type panic. Really. I immediately started to cry. And hard, too, people. Tears are streaming down my face, I'm shaking and screaming and cursing and acting like a total punk.

HUBS' initial reaction was to giggle a bit. I don't blame him, though, because I was acting so crazy that he thought I was overacting for effect. When he saw the tears, he knew what was up - I was a lunatic and needed to be calmed down before I killed us both.

Two things made this worse: There was no shoulder, so I couldn't just pull over. I had to wait for the first exit and find a place to stop. Also? I knew I was acting insane, but couldn't stop it. I would start to calm down, then think about the spider setting up shop in my hair or clothes or large intestine and begin to freak! out! again!

This ordeal only lasted about 5 minutes before I could pull over in a parking lot, but it felt like an eternity. I ripped off my sweatshirt (thank God for tank tops) and eventually HUBS found and killed the spider, which was on the back of my seat. As you can imagine, he had to drive once we finally got back in the car.

I have no fucking clue what happened to me! It's not like HUBS purposely threw a tarantula or a bucket of brown recluses on me. It was an accident! And a small, basically harmless spider! And I lost my mind with the shaking/crying/screaming travelling show.

The last time I acted like this I was in college and depressed and lonely and self-hating. HUBS thinks this might have something to do with "the store closing" soon. But I have never gotten this bent out of shape about anything just because of my monthly.

Holy crap. I hope this ain't a trend.