Thursday, May 29, 2014

Flashbacks to the pest

You know, I wasn't always this way when it comes to spiders. Once, I was interested in their biology. Once, I was interested in the role they play in the environment. I don't know when that changed... Maybe... Maybe that all changed once I had my first run in with a tarantula in the wild…

(Cue Wayne's World cut scene fingers. Doodly-doo, doodly-doo, doodly-doo…)

Long ago, I spent several years in Brazil, because that is the sort of manly and intrepid person that I am. Now, the thing about Brazil is that Americans only know two things about it: They love Soccer there! And, isn't it like, the jungle or something? And, indeed, a great deal of Brazil is covered by the Amazonian rain forest. What Americans don't realize is that a country as big as Brazil actually has a variety of ecosystems, one of which (much to my surprise, once I arrived there) is desert. Cool. (Or should I say Hot, HAHAHA! Never mind. Ahem. Anyways...) So, I had arrived in the desert of Brazil, and had only been there about two weeks when the following events occurred.

Allow me to set the scene. At the time I was living in a series of four-plexes, and our apartment was at the very end, on the bottom floor. I was living there with three other guys, two Brazilians and one other American. Due to the circumstances of my time there, I was were required to go everywhere with a buddy. So one fine, warm day, I was returning home around lunch time with my buddy. (All days in Brazil are fine and warm. In fact, the weather being what it is, most people wear flip-flops almost every day, and almost everywhere. An inconsequential point, one might think, but one that enters the story later with a vengeance.) Anyways, on this particular fine, warm day, as we were passing by the neighbors house, we heard a piercing shriek, so naturally, being the caring, supportive neighbors we were, we stopped and craned our necks for all we were worth to see what was causing the ruckus.

Now, time may have clouded my memory of this event, but this, roughly, is what happened next. The door bursts open, followed very closely by two neighbors, a middle aged lady and her daughter, launching out what, at first glance, would appear to a large mouse or a small cat. (Or possibly a regular size cockroach. They grow things large in Brazil.) Of course it turn out to be none of these things. It is… (Dun Dun DUUUUUUNNN) a very large Tarantula. (Wait, you weren't surprised by that buildup? Oh yeah, I guess you are reading a blog about my experiences with spiders. Maybe I should quit wasting so much time on exposition.)


Now, I had previously supposed, being a naive young man, that living around such things would harden the populace, and make them blasé to the encroaches of the native fauna. However, in actuality, it turns out that there are some things that People, in general, just do not like. There may be exceptions, of course. I personally know some people who appear to be the Crocodile Hunter of Spiders (if you will) picking them up, playing with them, and giving them adorable nicknames (Furry-Butt, Googly-Eyes, Harvester of Damned Souls, etc.)

The point of all this, is that the two ladies dealing with the spider appeared to be not in the least hardened to having tarantulas in their midst. They put their hands on the first weapons they could find, and attacked that spider as though it had threatened to hit a baby with a hammer. Of course, it being Brazil, the first things they could lay their hands on were their sandals. And if you do not think that an ordinary flip-flop provides an effective weapon, clearly you have not spent much time around women of latin descent. Indeed, rarely, if ever, have I seen two pairs of flip-flops dual wielded with such stunning ferocity. It brought to mind some lesser known Jackie Chan film, if the antagonist in such a film had been a spider the size of your hand. (Unless you have small hands. The point being, it was not a small creature.)


Now, it has taken me quite a while to tell all of this, because I tend to be long-winded, but it happened in the space of a few seconds, so me and my friend were left there in stunned amazement, looking at what looked like what would happen if there was an explosion in a internal-organs-and-hair factory. Naturally, it was an event that stuck in our minds, so that night we shared the story with the other guys in our apartment, spending as much time as possible focusing on "how BIG that thing was! It was like, check out this plate, ok? Kind of like that!" This naturally led to curiosity on the part of our companions, so flashlights were retrieved, and an expedition was mounted to view the remains of Spiderzilla. This of course, led to the events of next weeks installment, which I like to call "Revenge of Spiderzilla: the Bride of Spiderzilla!"

(To Be Continued...)


(How was that buildup? Was that better? I'm still getting used to this "having space to write whatever I feel like" thing.)

(P.S. I also added a follow by email thing, so if you feel like it you will get an email anytime you want to hear about spiders, and I also happen to have written something about them here.)

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Making an offer they can't refuse


Well everyone, I knew I would be telling you stories about the crazy shenanigans spiders always try and pull at my house, but I had no idea it would be so soon. Apparently the last spider was simply a scout, sent as a ruse. Tonight I came home, only to find the spider equivalent of Luca Brazzi hanging out on my doorframe, staring at me with its multitude of beady eyes and making comments about how "flammable my stuff looks" and how "it would be a shame if anything were to happen to it."

Well, I don't know how many of you have seen the movie "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," but what happened next was pretty much nothing like that. However, I did high kick Luca the Spider right in his stupid eight-eyed face. I like to think that the last thing that passed through his mind was my shoe. But only moments before that, he was probably registering surprise at how good a man of my... heft, is at at high-kicking things.


In conclusion, as a final reminder to any spiders who may be reading this, the brown smear on my door signifies that Luca "The Spider" Brazzi sleeps with the fishes. And I'm taking this thing to the mattresses.

The calm at the eye of the storm


For those of you who love stories of man vs. monster, daring escapes and cunning foes, bravery, sacrifice, and desperate courage, you will be delighted to know that I saw the years first spider in my house just now.

Photographic Proof


Here it comes you guys. Once again, I have been attacked by an abhorrent eight-legged aberration of nature in the privacy of my own home, in the comfort of my own couch! This is spiderpocalypse that I have dreaded since the day that I ran that spider down the disposal (To be fair, that still makes me laugh.) They are gathering, and in the coming storm, no one shall be safe. To prove the horrors that I have undergone, I include a photo of the hell-beast in question. (What do you mean, you can't see it! It's the brown spot next to my hand! No, not that one. The other one, right above... right... Yeah, that one! Above my hand. No? maybe you should get a magnifying glass.)


 Anyways, let this serve as proof that I have never once exaggerated the horrors I go through on a practically hourly basis in this spider-pit I call home.
Now, the moment you've all been waiting for! The next installment of Evan Versus Like, A Million Spiders. (Spoilers: the spider dies at the end.) So a couple of days ago, I was making myself a nice, home-cooked meal, because that is the kind of capable and versatile Man that I am (Ladies.) As I went to put dishes in the sink, I became aware that there was a large (my perceptions may have been warped by the heat of the moment, but it appeared to be the size of a small kitten) wolf spider in the sink. 

Now, many people would find themselves put out by such an occurrence, but not yours truly. With a calm and determined air, I did what any other rational individual (and I am thinking specifically of Abraham Lincoln here) would have done: turned on the disposal and used the sprayer to wash it down.

A simple, painless victory, you would think. But now I am plagued by doubts. Much like the protagonist of "The Tell-Tale Heart," I'm beginning to think my actions were ill-advised. I haven't seen any spiders since then, but given how common they were before, I believe they may have witnessed the demise of their comrade and are now biding their time and plotting a counter-attack. Should I die suddenly, make sure the coroner checks for the fang-marks of a thousand revenge bound arachnids.

Another one...

Another wolf spider crawled on the wall just before I went to bed. *yawn*




The first skirmish

Hurray, it's story time with Evan again! So as I am sitting here on my couch, another freaking wolf spider (for simplicities sake we will call him Ralph) comes crawling along over the back rest, you know, minding his own business. Of course, being a man, I do not jump up and scream, because that would bring shame to my dojo.

Anyways, after not jumping up and not screaming, I notice that Ralph has disappeared back into the depths from whence he came. Now let's be real, with a beard like the one that constantly graces my chiseled jaw, it is basically impossible for me to feel fear, or even mild paranoia. So when a light breeze caresses my arm, I do not jump and flail around, thinking that Ralph has returned. Nor do I curse and hit my own arm when I get a mild itch that anybody would have mistaken for the bite of a Ninja Spider returning for vengeance after having been startled by sudden high-pitched noises in it's vicinity. No, I just lay here, as cool and collected as any man has ever been. You should all be proud.


(P.S. I am going to need backup ASAP, preferably with a flamethrower.)

The Beginning...

I am usually a pretty live-and-let-live kind of guy RE: spiders, however, if I have another wolf spider that closely resembles Shelob crawl onto my bed one more time right before I'm about to go to bed I may declare jihad.