Monday, July 7, 2014

Sharks, snakes and spiders, OH MY!

At a fabulous friend's house this past weekend for a most yummy BBQ (I keep typo'ing that as BBW, which tells you how roly poly I'm feeling the day after--truly the sign of an excellent party), the conversation turned to the recent sightings of Great Whites in Long Island Sound. 

(This is particularly relevant to my beloved and me, as we fish out there in our kayaks and, upon catching a big striped bass or whatnot, will tether it behind the boat and tow it home for dinner. Needless to say, we keep a watchful eye and a sharp knife close at hand to cut the line should the need arise!)

The conversation went something like this:

FabFriend: I saw a picture of all these sharks in the water near some swimmers, maybe down in Florida? *shudders* No, thank you!

Me (because I'm evil and I know what makes her twitch): Okay, you've gotta do one or the other to save your life--Do you swim through those sharks or walk through a room full of snakes?

FF: I die. *holds out bowl* More salsa?

(In retrospect, I should've--hypothetically, of course--put one of her kids in the scene, as she's a real mama bear and would undoubtedly walk across those sharks' backs and use the snakes for jump ropes if her kiddos were involved.)  

If she had turned it back on me, I would've been okay, as I think snakes and sharks are both pretty cool, and love watching them in the wild. If she had asked about putting me in a glass box and filling it with spiders, however, it would've been Game Over! *shivers* *shudders* *does little squirmy I think there's something up my pant leg dance*

You know that meme with a picture of a burning house and the caption "There was a spider, but I think I got it"? Yeah, that's me. Or it would be, if I didn't have that pesky live-and-let-live gene going on. So more often it's that age-old battle cry of: "Honey? Could you come get the spider and take it outside?" (At six-four, Arizona can pluck the suckers off our ceilings flat-footed. And, of course, put bowls and groceries on the tippy top shelves, just so I have to climb up on the counters to get them down.)

The other day, I did the leap-EUUUWGH! thing upon discovering a Giant Wood Spider lurking beneath the solar collector for our motion-activated lights. Whereupon Arizona went into Crocodile Hunter mode and hunkered down to study Mr. Spider, and was all like, "Ohhh, look! Babies! There have to be thousands of them! Come see!"

(Okay, maybe it was Mrs. Spider.)

Me: No. Thank. You. (In retrospect, I should've said, "I die. More salsa?")

How about you ... would you swim through sharks, walk through snakes, or get packed in with spiders? Or, yanno, snag more salsa?


  1. I'd swim through the sharks with a spider on my back. But if you throw in a snake? Game over, please pass the salsa.

    1. (Apologies if this response suddenly appears like six times, as I'm having trouble posting!) To Rene: ROFLOL! So noted. *passes salsa* (Arizona made it, btw, with lots of fresh veggies, and peppers he roasted out on the back deck. Om nom nom!)

  2. Are we talking Great White Sharks here? Because a babysitter let my sister and I watch Jaws when I was like, 5 years old or so. Then, a month later, we took our family vacation..... to FLORIDA. I remember watching my dad in the ocean and being terrified that he was going to get eaten by a shark.

    Snakes, I'm cool with. Spider, I'm so-so. There are 2 things that determine whether a spider dies or gets put outside. 1) Does it jump at me? Because those jumping *bleep*ers freak me out. Therefore, squish-city! 2) Is it a brown recluse? I know that they are just minding their own business. . . BUT HECK TO THE NO! Those things freak me out more than anything else.

    And thank you so much for taking me down things-that-freak-me-out-and=are=part=of-my-nightmares lane. Much appreciated. *sarcasm*