So, I’m quite the girly girl.
I’m not sure if this will surprise those who really know me or not. I’m don’t know how visible or obvious it is. I wear semi-battered Chucks almost constantly, I’m far more comfortable in ripped capris than a skirt, and I love a good dirty pun.
But put me in the makeup aisle at any drug store, and it’s quite clear which chromosomes I possess.
Another thing that brings out my inner little girl: anything that stings. Bees, wasps, hornets–you name it, I hate it. I know no one particularly LOVES these things, but my crazy meter goes pretty high when they’re around. It’s the surprise pain factor. I can handle surprises, and I can handle pain (three tattoos, too many fillings to count, etc.) but combine the two and I turn into a giant mess. Just ask the dentist who performed my first fillings, as I lay in the chair not knowing what to expect at all. He told me to close my eyes and next thing I know, OWWWWWW WHY ARE YOU STICKING A NEEDLE IN MY GUMS OMG THE PAIN.
But when I’m prepared for pain, I handle it pretty well. I laughed through my third tattoo–even during the outline portion, which is the most painful part.
On Friday, I had to watch the possibility of surprise pain flying about my house and then destroy it. Twice. Specifically, I had to kill two big, fat wasps. Seriously, these boys must’ve been eating their freakin’ Wheaties.
I doubt there are few things more amusing than me and a wasp facing off. I mean, personally I’ll take dry British wit or some veiled sarcasm any day, but for most people, the sight of me wielding my weapons while (to the casual observer) talking frantically to myself must be HI-FREAKING-LARIOUS.
Herein, you will learn the time-honored ritual I perform upon encountering one of these beasties in my house when I’m not alone.
- Find someone else in the house.
- Ask him/her to please kill the scary monster.
The process differs a bit when I’m alone in the house. I’ve honed it, though, so I can follow the steps in their correct order to ensure success.
- If possible, isolate the enemy by closing the door.
- Call The Husband.
- Tell him what’s going on.
- Put him on speakerphone.
- Retrieve hairspray. NOTE: If the beast is particularly large, bring two canisters. Nothing wrong with double-barreling it.
- Retrieve phone book.*
- If the enemy is closed off in a room, stand outside the door and chatter aimlessly at The Husband in a futile attempt to stall. If not, stand across the room and chatter aimlessly. Make jokes if possible.
- If the enemy is closed off, say, “Okay, I’m going for it. 1…2…3…oh crap, I can’t do it.”
- Repeat steps 7 and 8.
- Repeat steps 7 and 8.
- Repeat steps 7 and 8.
- Finally muster up the courage and get close to/enter room in which the enemy awaits.
- Set phone down somewhere nearby.
- Observe the enemy, waiting for the right moment and chattering aimlessly some more. This is the best part for lame jokes. An example from today: “Yeah, I know I’m just stallin’. And I don’t mean the murderous Russian.”
- When the enemy is in the perfect position–say, on the wall directly above a clear floor space, or on the ceiling directly above the sink–chicken out for long enough that he moves somewhere inaccessible.
- Repeat step 15 as many times as necessary.
- When you’ve mustered up incredible amounts of courage, and the adrenaline finally hits your bloodstream, AND the enemy is in the perfect position, break out hairspray and ATTACK. Keep a running commentary on what he’s doing and how much hairspray remains.
- When the enemy is partially disabled and falls to a low, flat surface, AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: continue the hairspray attack WHILE throwing the phone book on him. DO NOT GIVE HIM AN OPPORTUNITY TO ESCAPE.**
- Stomp or smack (floor = stomp, counter or table = smack) the phone book. Shout very, very bad words as necessary.***
- Very carefully, lift up phone book and check on the enemy’s status. If he’s still moving, return phone book to its previous position and stomp/smack some more.
- Usually, he’ll be officially dead after about ten more blows. Gleefully announce the time of death.
- Leave the phone book in place until The Husband comes home, because seriously, you did the hard part.
- Thank Husband for his time and unwavering support in this, the battle of your life.
If you follow these foolproof steps, I GUARANTEE that you will achieve icky-painful-bug-killing success. You will also waste a lot of time, but in the process you’ll prove your bravery and provide valuable entertainment to a loved one.
He can repay you by taking care of the carcass.
*I may be the only person in the Internet world who still appreciates the physical version of the Yellow Pages. They multiply like bunnies, they’re unnecessary for anyone with Internet access, and they’re so very bad for the environment, but I know nothing better with which to smack/stomp big bugs to death.
**If you’re double-barreling it, this requires a certain amount of juggling and physical dexterity. It is also funny.
***I picked this method up from a friend in high school. I feel a lot tougher when I’m screaming expletives, like really really bad words, the kind I’d never say in front of my mother. I don’t know why it helps, but it does.