Spider, Spider, Go Away. Come Again on the 12th of Never.

I am a city girl. And I am not ashamed. The countryside is a great vacation spot, sometimes, but I would never, ever live there. Unless of course Columbus Short lived out there with me, with our highly intelligent Boxer pups, and a mini fridge in most of the rooms because there is no telling when we'd need whipped cream right that second, but I digress.

I'm a city girl and I would never live in the country for one major reason: The critters. Spiders, centipedes, grasshoppers, mostly anything that either has more legs than I do, or doesn't come in human-like colors? We. Are. Not. Friends. And never will be. If I was the protagonist of "James & the Giant Peach" and I had to put my survival in the hands of a spider, a grasshopper, a centipede, and a lady bug, I'd probably die. I'd be thinking about how I could possibly make peach juice poisonous to kill them all. Charlotte's Web? I'd murder Charlotte, and there would be no famous webs. Any other critter friendly stories would morph into an obituary ad.

Just the other day, a spider tried to kill me by dropping from my kitchen ceiling to the stove, right as I was about to put food on the burner... Are you kidding me?! I didn't know which was worse, having the spider almost land on my head, or in my food. Naturally, as with any spur of the moment near-death experience, I let out a mini scream (which sounded very mature and brave, thank you very much), and then proceeded to watch it land on the stove burner I hadn't turned on yet. I wouldn't let it out of my sight as I calmly called for help from one of my roommates, all of which happened to be out and about at the time. What could I do then, but wait for the right moment to light him on fire? I waited until the body was right over the flame outlet before I turned the stove on and watched his body burn. At this point, I fancied myself some sort of house spider assassin, and I put out a little mental memo to the underworld of spiders:

"To the Seedy Spider Underworld: If any other from your lot comes up with the bright idea to run up on me by descending from the ceiling to almost land on my head and/or the food I was JUST about to put on the stove, I Will Murder You. Today, poor cousin Timmy Long Legs learned the hard way. This is not the countryside, and I do not believe in "Catch & Release". I will burn you with the blazing fires of the gas company I pay. I will roast you with the burning flames of the stove. I will watch your body disintegrate into teensy weensy particles of ash.  In short, I will End. Your. Life. And then? Then I will laugh the laugh of the contented heart. Be afraid. For I will not issue this warning a second time."

I didn't overreact at all. And I'll continue to leave country living to the pros: Those who enjoy smogless air, the great outdoors, and all that other sentimental "blue sky, green grass" crap beauty.

Magical Ho-Ho Cupcakes

I work in a pretty chill accounting office (no, that is not a paradox) on my college campus. Days ago there was a celebration for graduating Seniors from the college program, and the coordinator ordered some super fancy cupcakes and cookies. These sweets were nationally renowned, and do you know how I know that? Because that's all the coordinator talked about for weeks. Weeks. We could not walk past her without being mauled to death by her praise of these cupcakes and their maker. Mind you, us lowly office people would most likely not be receiving one of these grand treats, since we were not of that illustrious graduating class of Seniors. So yes, we were harassed, and with no return for our pain and suffering.

A few days before the big event, Helen (the coordinator), bounds up to our office to show off the new cupcake stand that she purchased specifically for the celebration. She also sent a departmental email with a picture of it twenty minutes prior. Can you tell that she was really feeling this famous cupcake thing? To be funny, my co-worker re-posted the picture on my Facebook wall with the caption, "In case you didn't notice..." Helen stopped my supervisor for literally ten whole minutes to once again rehash where these cupcakes where coming from, the life and times of the baker, and all the fancy tricks her new cupcake stand could do (which was nothing, except to be a stationary piece of white wood: who knew?).

The big event finally arrives, and another co-worker of mine tells me that he had to stand there and control the masses [of really polite and kinda shy engineer graduates] so that everyone could get a magic cupcake. But apparently, one Professor in attendance said his cupcake tasted like a Ho-Ho...

What?!

A Ho-Ho? A Ho-Ho?! You mean the cream-filled chocolate covered cakes that you can buy from your local gas station at 10 for $3.50?! Poor Helen wasted perfectly good praise and effort for an instructor to tell her that his cupcake "tasted kind of like a Ho-Ho". I'll tell ya; the gall of that Professor [insert heavy sarcasm here]; wouldn't know real cupcake art if it took a bite out of him.
Moral of the Story: If you're going to reward students for four years of blood, sweat, and research papers, with a cupcake at 10am in the morning that taste like a Ho-Ho? Get the cupcakes from Target or Lunds & Byerlys like normal people! You'll save money, and everyone in the office will still want to talk to you after the big party's over.