Hello beautiful readers, it's been awhile! (Last post: July 2016) You all know how much I love and cherish this blog (And each and every one of you, you marvelous people, you!) so why does it take me so long to update between posts, I hear you ask? well, there's 3 possible reasons for it: 1) I am a breathing pile of human garbage, that is super lazy about writing new posts. (Clearly the most unlikely of the three scenarios.) 2) There are no more spiders in my life. My house and the places I go are entirely devoid of spiders in every respect. 3) There are so many spiders, everywhere, that documenting my run-ins with them has become a pointless exercise, like an Eskimo writing about snow, or politicians writing about lying (political burn!)

So which of these answers is it? Well, I think we all know in our hearts that it isn't #2, and #1 is so far fetched as to be entirely implausible, leaving #3 as the only possible answer. So what possible run in could I have had with a spider that was so bad that I would write about it? I'll tell you (because that is the entire purpose of this blog) but it is a tale so fraught with horror, so filled with peril that I advise my readers who are weak of heart to visit their doctor. (Not because of this post. Just because if you have a weak heart, visiting your doctor regularly is a good idea.)

Now this year has been a busy one for me. Due to the nature of my job, I've been gone from my house a lot, and when I am home I haven't been cooking much, which is sad because I love food and cooking is a minor hobby of mine. Anyways, I finally had a day off and the motivation to cook, so naturally , I decided to make spaghetti (Or as it is known around here, the Bachelors Best Friend. Although, having been a bachelor so long, I have basically perfected my recipe. Al dente noodles, with fresh herbs and roasted peppers in the sauce... I digress.)

Anyways, I pull out my sauce pan, set it on the stove, and guess what fell out? If you guessed a spider, then clearly you have read this blog before, (or just read the name. It's not very hard to figure out.) However, it wasn't a spider. It wasn't even an earwig (#2 on my list of things I write about on this blog) In some ways, it was much worse.

What fell on my stove was a spider carapace, the husk spiders shed when they get too big(!) for their exoskeleton. Imagine opening someones closet, and finding a suit made out of human skin inside because the serial killer got to big for the old one and had to find a new one. Better yet, don't imagine that, because that is a horrifying thought. However that was basically my reaction when that dried out husk fell onto my stove top.

Now it turns out there are actually cultures where people eat spiders. I found a picture, and I'm going to share it with you, my delightful readers, because I want you to suffer the way I did as I was researching this blog post. (Warning: the following image is super gross and horrifying if you're not from Southeast Asia)
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Don't say I didn't warn you! Here it comes!
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I know this because my friends and family send me all sorts of spider related shenanigans on Facebook, apparently because they are deeply into schadenfreude.

However, even knowing that spiders are some sort of yummy delicacy in other parts of the world has not convinced me that I want them in and around the food I prepare, especially since I only found the shell and some web from this spider. In case you're not Sherlock Holmes, that means that there is a living breathing spider somewhere in my pans cupboard, and presumably it's angry, since I broke its web and (involuntarily) stole its former flesh-suit.

Now, I have gradually become accustomed (sort of) to the spiders I run into. At first, when I'd see one on the couch I'd freak out. Now the spiders have full custody of the couch when I'm out of the house and every third Friday. It used to be that if I saw a spider on my bed, I'd rave and flail about and then write about those shenanigans here. Now I'm like "Dude, I'm trying to sleep. It's my turn to be the big spoon." Point being, spiders just don't have the same impact they used to have on me.

However, I'm not OK with spiders in my food. More specifically, I'm not OK with spiders building their homes in my cooking pans and then leaving their skin suits everywhere. (If you MUST have a skin suit, the least you can do is have the common decency to hang it in the hall closet, where your victims can find it and get a proper jump scare out of it. That's Evil Villain Suspense Building 101!)

They say that the average human eats an average of 8 spiders per year in their sleep, which I'm very happy to debunk entirely as an urban legend, started by some lady to show how some people will believe anything they read on the internet. (http://www.snopes.com/science/stats/spiders.asp) However, it would appear that no matter what Snopes says that I am on my way towards my yearly quota, and I don't even have the dubious distinction of being asleep for it. It seems that there are only two rational explanations for this: 1) The spiders in my house have taken over to such an extent that they now feel safe climbing into my cookware and making themselves at home ("Hey bro, do you mind if I crash in your sauce-pan for the weekend? The old lady kicked me out from under the couch and took custody of all 8,000,000,000 kids. It sucks, but I'm hoping that the kids can visit soon and I can introduce you.") or, 2) They know how much horror comes from the idea of having a spider in your mouth and are doing it deliberately, as a practical joke. ("Alright guys, we got him really good those other times we hid in the bathtub and his shoes, lets really kick it up a notch for this next one. Ideas? Holy cow Karl, you're saying you're willing to sacrifice your world class flesh-suit collection just to freak him out? I'm putting you in for a promotion!)

SO that's the situation in my house as it stands. Now, I don't know about you, but I am a man who tries to live my life by a certain code. Call me old fashioned, but I believe in things like "Honesty", "Integrity", and "Not letting Spiders push me around in the Comfort of my Own Home". I'm going to put my foot down and firmly, yet quietly, complain about it on this blog. Because you know what? When you live with as many spiders as I do, you don't risk taking a stand, lest you fall victim to another "friendly prank" and wake up in a bed with 8,000,000,000 spider babies laughing at your screams of horror. I just hope they don't read this blog...