Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgh buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugs

Today's subject? The creepy crawlies running around my house.

That's right. Bugs.

Now, I consider myself an animal person. I like animals. I'm for conservation of the environment. I'm supportive of vegetarians and vegans, and I even was a vegetarian for a whole year. And I'm fine with bugs! As long as they stay out of my house.

But when they're crawling around my room, flying around my bathroom and I can see them while I'm lying on my bed? They're free game. That fly swatter isn't just for show, you little creeps!

And after living in the attic for several years, I am damn good with a fly swatter. Hell, I am a force to be reckoned with!

There's always one bug I can never deal with on my own, though. And that's wasps. Spiders as big as my hand? Okay, I might whimper, but after I get over my perfectly rational fear and find something suitable to squish it with, that thing's as good as dead. Wasps, however? Those send me carefully sneaking out my door and down the stairs so I can beg my step-dad to come and get rid of the nasty wasp.

I can't deal with wasps. They freak me the hell out. I think the world would be a much better place if all wasps just dropped dead! Except for the whole thing where we have to go clean them up so little kids don't step on them barefoot.

Which is a great segue into why I hate them so much in the first place!

You see, around seventh grade I went on a vacation to Canada with my best friend and her family. I know, my first trip out of the country and I didn't even go with my own family. I'm such a great child. Anyway, we stayed at this resort next to a Canada-beach. If you've never been to a Canada-beach, they're a lot like Washington-beaches. Less sand and bikinis, more rocks and hoodies. Luckily it was summer, so even if we couldn't swim, we could run around chasing birds barefoot. Or something. I don't really remember what we were doing.

What I do remember is walking back from a beach excursion, hearing a loud buzzing that sounded like it was right in my ear, then PAIN. Intense pain in my foot! We made it back to the house we were staying in safely, but the damage was done. I'd been stung on the bottom of my foot by a mudwasp. (This diagnosis was made by my friend, who apparently had read a book on wasps or something and recognized the triangle-shape of the sting as a mudwasp, the WORST WASP TO EVER BE STUNG BY.)

And that little bitch hurt! There are not words to describe how much it hurt! It felt like it was on fire, so we put ice on it until it was numb. At that point, I took it off. Within a few minutes, it was fire again. Rinse, repeat.

So for the rest of the vacation, there was less frolicking in the rock-beach, more watching Gundam Seed. All because of that stupid wasp.

And that is why I hate wasps with every fiber of my being. More than mosquitoes, even.