Instant profane ninja
So here I am, taking the trash out. I have the trash bag in one hand and the recycle bin in the other. I am cheerfully walking along when suddenly spider web across my forehead. There is nothing I can do except curse under my breath and furiously wrinkle my forehead until I get to the gate and can drop a bag and manically scrub my face like a nervous promgoer fighting off acne.
I hate spider webs. It’s funny, because I don’t really have a problem with spiders. Spiders are pretty rad. They eat annoying bugs and don’t eat my plants. If I see one inside, I will usually gently move it outside where it belongs. (If it is a particularly venomous variety I reserve the right to murder it without any semblance of mercy.) They largely leave me alone and I largely leave them alone.
Spider webs though – spider webs slay me. They’re totally invisible and they just drift around until you walk into them and then uggghhhh. Usually they’re near a tree or a bush or something, but sometimes you can be out in like a parking lot and get a floater across the face; this is the worst. The common internet truism is that spider webs instantly turn you into a ninja. This is absolutely the case with me; I tend to flail senselessly for a little bit and then rub my face (or arm or leg or whatever) a lot until the sensation is gone. However, spider webs have an additional effect on me, which is to cause me to unleash a poisonous, bubbling stream of vitriolic profanity that turns the air blue and withers peaceful flowers and causes small children to cry within a fifty-yard radius.
When I was in Ohio on my mission, there was a particular time of year during the fall when there was a sudden proliferation of spider webs. We’d be out walking around, knocking on doors, walking up people’s sidewalks, and ASDFLKDSJFLK SPIDER WEBS. (I largely succeeded during this two-year span in containing any arachnid-related profanity.) The weird thing was, it was always me that got a face full of invisible silk, even if my companion was walking ahead of me. It’s like my face is a spider web electromagnet.
My friends Matt and David live in this condo that is surrounded by waist- to shoulder-high hedges: perfect spider territory. And thus: perfect spider web territory. During that time in the fall, I can’t walk out of their house after a Rock Band night without getting spider webbed at least once. It’s just impossible.
It has been like thirty minutes since I ran into that spider web and my face and head are still all itchy. Damn spider webs.