I Find. *UPDATED*

You know how hawks are really talented at eyesight?  I'm like that except with finding things.  As a child, I was a ferocious Hide-and-go-Seek player.  My reflexes became so sharp, that it was almost as if I could see into the future and anticipate the hiding spots of my classmates.

It was almost unfair.  

My powers have only grown since then, but all gifts come with great responsibility. 

Boyfriend discovered my powers early on when he thought that he lost his wallet but actually it was just on the floor.  Since then, he has grown to depend on me to find his things.   

Yesterday, he was like "Allie, where are my keys?" 

I didn't want to stop playing online bingo, so I was like "I don't know."  

Boyfriend:  "Allie.  Find my keys." 

Me:  "No." 

Boyfriend:  "Yes." 

Me:  "No" 

Boyfriend:  *SUUUUUUUUUUUUPERRRRRRRRR SUUUUUULLLKKKKK!!!!*

Me:  "OKAY!!!!" 

Boyfriend:  "Where are they?" 

Me:  "Have you checked the couch?" 

Boyfriend: "OH MY GOD!! HOW DO YOU DO THAT????" 

Me:  "Shit."

I hate it when I'm right because this only reinforces the cycle of dependency: 

This is a terrible dynamic because what happens if I fall off a boat and hit my head on a log and I go into a coma?  Boyfriend won't be able to find anything and he'll die.  I am not being helpful by letting him depend on me to find things for him.  

You guys, I have to break the cycle.  

I have to hide all of Boyfriend's things and then pretend like I don't know where they are.  

Updates to follow. 

UPDATE:  I hid a bunch of things and when Boyfriend got home, I was all ready to be like "Do you need to brush your teeth?  How about now?  How about now?  But really -  how about now?  Why don't you just brush them now... it'll save you time before bed..." and when he went to go brush his teeth I was going to be like "Oh no... where's your toothbrush?"  But then Boyfriend was all "Meeeeeeeeeeeeh, I feel siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick..." and I  couldn't do it because he is lying on the couch like this: 

STOP IT!!! I ALREADY HAVE NETFLIX!!!!!!

Saturday is Spaghatta Nadle Day!!!

If you are new to Spaghatta Nadle, go here first.

Technically This Still Kind of Counts as a Post

Today I was like "Hi brain.  Let's write a blog post!"  And my brain was like "No.  I want crackers." 

Spiders are Scary. It's Okay to be Afraid of Them. *UPDATED*

I'm fighting a war.  A war against spiders.  Every night before bed, I check my sheets for them, shoe in hand, ready to brutally end their lives with way more force than necessary.  Sometimes I find one and even if I kill it, I still can't go to sleep because it confirmed my fear that sometimes there are spiders waiting in my bed for me.

I used to pretend that I wasn't afraid of spiders.  It made me feel cool - like I was braver than most people.  If someone called me on my bluff and asked me to dispose of a spider, I would put on my battle-face and do my best to get rid of it without letting the panic bubble to the surface.

I don't pretend anymore.

I HATE spiders.   Spiders are like little pieces of death wrapped in scary.  Even if a spider was like

I'd be all

Sometimes when I express the hatred and fear I feel when I think of spiders, someone will be like "But spiders have families too!!"  Like somehow that will make me become sympathetic and understanding toward spiders.  But that's exactly the point.  Spiders have families and their families are also spiders.  We should kill spiders because they have families.  

When I was younger, my mom would say "Sweetie, don't be afraid.  You are way bigger than a spider." Well guess what, mom?  I'm bigger than a grenade too.  Were you trying to raise me to be some sort of unconquerable war-machine that isn't even afraid of grenades?  If you were trying to do that, you failed.  I'm afraid of a lot of things that are smaller than me - like bees and wolverines and centipedes.  I'm even kind of afraid of ants a little bit. 

Spiders are fucking scary.  That is a universal truth.  I don't know why.  I don't need to know why.  All I know is that when this:

comes crawling across the floor at me, my brain interprets it like this:

That is a spider with a swastika and the words "I KILL YOU" carved into its flesh and it has knives and guns strapped to its legs.  That's how scary spiders are.   

P.S.  I just saw a spider on my stairs and I tried to squish it but I missed and now I can't find it.  

UPDATE:  Remember how I was like "P.S. There was a spider on my stairs and I tried to squish it, but no"?   IT WAS ON ME.  At least I think it was the same spider.  Maybe it was just a part of the other spider's clone army.  I don't know.  The point is that I was like "happyhappyunaware" and then I looked down and there was a big, black spider crawling on the couch next to me and I ran away yelling "getitgetitgetit!!!" because I'm super brave.  Then Boyfriend was like "I know what would be a good idea!  I should try to stab the spider with my knife!" and he pulled out his pocket knife and tried to stab the spider and he missed and the spider ran away and now there's a fucking spider in my couch.  

UPDATE:  Okay, this spider is a survivor.  First, it escaped being crushed by me on the stairs.  Then it got away when boyfriend was trying to stab it with a pocket knife and it ran behind the couch.  Tip: don't try to stab spiders - squish instead:

Boyfriend and I tore the room up looking for it and we couldn't find it.  Then, I looked up above me and there it was.  On the ceiling.  In a completely unreachable spot.  

UPDATE:  Now it has a friend. 

UPDATE:  Boyfriend just killed the spider's friend using a box of Samoas© Girl Scout cookies.  

The original spider is still too high to reach.  (You're welcome for the free advertising, Samoas©)

UPDATE:  The spider has been slain.  It was an epic battle.  First, I made a spider-free island in the middle of the living room where I could watch the action while still being reasonably sure that I would not become part of it.  Then Boyfriend made a long, poke-y weapon and he climbed up behind the couch and went in for the kill.  The spider did not die easily and its death will probably be avenged in some fashion by its clone army, but for now it is gone.  

I CAN'T FEEL MY FACE!!!

I had to go to the dentist again today.  To get a crown.  And fillings.  It was my first time.  This is what I felt like this morning:

After three hours of drilling and twelve shots of novocain, I can't feel my face at all.  Or my throat.   This is what I feel like right now:

Or possibly this one:

I had to get the crown because my tooth had a conjoined twin that was getting cavities all up in its shit.  They had to get rid of the conjoined twin tooth and then file the remaining tooth down and put a temporary fake tooth over it.  It was pretty dramatic:

Anyway, now I'm all pissed off, sitting at home, unable to feel my face or eyes or throat.  I can't even eat because I have no control of my swallowing muscles and I'm home alone and I'd probably choke and the paramedics would find me and be like "Oh no, her face is all fucked up.  She must have had a stroke.   Why was she eating raw pork?  Oh wait... that's her own lip."

I think this is probably the saddest day ever.  

The Rural Montana Survival Guide

Living in rural Montana is a lot like being duct-taped inside a refrigerator box with a bear.  It's dangerous.  However, there are some steps you can take to ensure your survival.  In rural Montana, I mean.  Not the one with the bear in the box.  That's probably going to be fatal no matter what.

1.  Learn to tell the difference between dangerous mountain-people and not-as-dangerous mountain-people

Your environment will be a minefield of crazed-looking individuals who reek of beer-sweat and failure.  Some of them will be dangerous and some will merely be your fellow Safeway patrons.

2.  Already have all of the furniture you will ever need  

The people of rural Montana do not seem to grasp the concept of depreciation.  Your local Craigslist and newspaper classifieds will be overrun with ads for five-hundred-dollar "vintage" mattresses and three-hundred-dollar "handcrafted plywood end tables."  Exclamation points will be used in unnecessary amounts.

The bottom line is that you will not be able to afford/find furniture. Unless you somehow have an extensive gun collection that you are willing to barter.  Guns are used as a sort of primitive currency here.  

3.  Beware of garage sales.  They might actually be traps. 

Once you realize that Craigslist is useless in your area, you might be tempted to turn to yard sales and garage sales.  This could prove to be a bad idea and may end with you being enrolled in a baptist fellowship against your will.  

You will start your day with high hopes.  Maybe you want a futon or a lamp.  Maybe a new table.  Your search will eventually lead you out of town a little ways.  There, you'll see a large sign nailed with purpose to a telephone pole.  It will say "Garage Sale!!!" 

It is not a garage sale.  It is a trap.   

Once you have ventured inside the garage to peruse the shiny, tastefully-arranged merchandise, you will be approached by an adorable old woman named Rose.   She'll say "There's more stuff inside.  Come on in!"  You will feel disarmed by the fact that she appears to be a harmless old lady with no agenda.  You will enter her house and begin looking through the items for sale.  She will come up behind you and say "So what do you do for work, Sweetheart?"  You will feel tempted to tell her that you don't have a job yet.  DO NOT DO THIS.  If you do, she will ask for your phone number and you will give it to her because "she has a friend who might need a babysitter" and you are desperate for money.   Immediately after carefully inserting your contact information into her rolodex, she will nonchalantly ask "So... have you enrolled in a fellowship yet?"  You will not know what a fellowship is.  It won't matter.  Your soul has just been sneak-saved!

(Note:  Rose's "garage sale" is a year-round event.  Even in the depth of winter, she's there bravely sneak-saving her victims.) 

4.  Don't just be a defensive driver.  Become pure reflexes and agility.  

If you feel the need to leave the safety of your home and get into an automobile and drive to Super One, be prepared.  It's going to be like playing Grand Theft Auto on chaos mode.  And it is going to infuriate you because no one will even notice that they almost killed you.  They'll pull out of K-Mart without even looking.  If you honk at them, they'll be all surprised and look at you like "what the fuck are you doing in my road?" They think they are great drivers.  This is because they spend most of their time driving in places where they can miss the road by ten feet and not even notice. 

Allow me to illustrate with a diagram:

5.  Hone your dog-monster fighting skills

You will be attacked by a dog-monster at some point.  These beasts resemble the average dog except they are vicious killing-machines that are not restrained in any way.

Your best bet for survival is probably to find a rock that is blunt on one end for bludgeoning and sharp on the other for stabbing.  You will need to do both and it is useful to have one hand free to sacrifice as a distraction, so having both a stabbing and bludgeoning surface on the same rock is essential.  

If the thought of beating/stabbing a monster that slightly resembles a dog made you feel any emotion other than battle-rage, you will not survive.  

6.  Also hone your cow-fighting skills

7.  Also hone your bear-fighting skills

Nevermind.  Bears always win.