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April 14, 2005
BUG BLOG
There are a lot of bugs on my patio. A LOT. A tribe, a herd, a swarm, a frickin' motley crew. It's like Hitchcock's backyard out there. And I’m not just talking about your average, everyday ants and spiders. I’m talking bugs the size of a Buick. Bugs with the wingspan of a pelican. Bugs with 4-inch legs and a nasty attitude. Bugs that eyeball you as if to say, “You talkin’ to ME?” Bugs that just beckon to be squished. I know, I know… they’re the “good” bugs; the ones who eat all the mosquitoes and make life better for all tank-top wearing citizens. But I HATE them. REALLY hate them. They’re nasty and flighty, and some of them even make it into the corners of my bedroom. You have no idea what this does to my psyche. You have no clue how upset I get. You haven’t the slightest inclination how FREAKED OUT they make me. Yeesh. Pardon the pun, but I abhor the buggers. Their spindly appendages, their glassy wings, and their ability to sneak into a screen door crack that’s smaller than the eye of a needle.
Of course they’re not just on MY bedroom patio, they’re also on our main patio, which means it’s virtually impossible to dodge the little bastards. I do find that a couple good blasts of RAID does the trick; it’s a joy to watch them spiral down off the wall like a plane in flames. HA! GOTCHA! DIE! DIE! DIE!!!! My roommate takes great joy in this sadistic ritual of mine, and already has a padded room reserved for me at the local Snake Pit. Of course the timing is the trickiest part of the whole insecticide assassination; I have to take on the persona of Tom Cruise in “Mission Impossible” if I don’t want to get Country Fresh Scent aerosol in my nose hairs. First, I have to carefully stalk the clever beast, zoning in on the weakest, and trying not to scare them off with my rose colored can of death spray. But they speak in secret scary bug lingo, so they’re always warning each other, and taunting me with the old “I’m-dangling-from-the-ceiling-you-pathetic-human-loser” ploy. ARRH! DEMONS! Stay still so I can smack you into a zillion pieces!
In the end, I usually look like a spastic girlie-girl, as I point the nozzle, spray the bejeezus out of the creature, and then immediately hurtle backward, trying to avoid both the toxic fumes and the flying bug body parts that begin to disseminate. Ah yes, it’s a great feeling. Of course it does have a tendency to look like a little insect cemetery, with splattered wings and twiggy legs piled on the cold gray cement. But....it’s.....sooooo.....beautiful....
Posted by Wendy at 1:23 PM | Comments (0)