Jeebus...

Well, I just made a total ASS out of myself at the local Starbucks, enjoying my Earl Grey (A new addiction). Apparently other than the gigantic moths I'm terrified of, theres a new strain out there that's the size of a fucking monarch butterfly. Great.

Guess what this one aimed for. You got it, my head. I admit, I ran, terrified, screaming a little in my throat, and ended up shaking like a leaf inside the coffee shop. Along side a eight year-old girl that was tagging along with her mum outside. The Moth followed me INSIDE. I had half of the people outside (approximately 40 people, all told) looking at me like I was insane.

What creeped me out even more was the big black dude from south Africa, that saw me quivering like a leaf in a wind storm, eight year old standing next to me, and promptly caught the gigantic thing IN HIS BARE HAND.

EW! I'll say it again. EW!!!!!


the top image is the Moth that usually attacks me. (Or something close to it. Make it bigger, browner, and have an orange-y brown splotch on it's back. I searched on google until I couldn't take looking at them anymore.)

The second image, is the Moth that went for my dome tonight, and then terrorized me in the local starbucks. Or something close to it. Sure, it LOOKS pretty, but these are nasty motherfuckers. Vicious. *shudders*

Sure, I realize that I carry on to no end about Moths.(With a capital M. Make no mistake.) Understand that I'm a complete coward, and run screaming regarding insects. However, I'm not usually one to make fun of others fears. For some reason, *THIS* is a justifiable terror in my heart. I don't have the cruelty in my heart to enjoy hurting things, but I get this horrible, vindictive pleasure out of killing these bastards, that have such a horrible, horrible vendetta against me for smooshing so many of their kind. if they just stayed around the porch lights, and away from my head, I'd be cool with them. but they divebomb me, and payback is a bitch. Jerilyn swears that The Moth Mafia Boss has a "hit out" on me; sitting around with his Moth cronies, saying in a horrible Italian accent "That'sa it, She'sa killed too many of 'Mi Familia', It'sa time we brought this genocide to an end. All of you, divebomb her head. Make-a her scream like a pansy girl. Hahahahahahaaaaa!"

The "GodMothra." He has an offer, you can't refuse.

I cackle when I kill one. (And the older I get, the more witch-like my laughter becomes, it's creepy.) I cackle, of course, after running away screaming. I muster up enough bravado to kill the bastards, but I get so irked with myself for running like a terror-stricken bimbo in a B movie horror before I can get the courage. (Minus the wet white T shirt and no bra.)

Nice Visual eh? At least I'm not so stupid as to run up the stairs like one of those trollops, trapping myself with the nasties in the house/starbucks. I actually ran into the bathroom, and locked the door, breathing hard.

That's hot.

Stupid Moths. I'll try to have this be the last post about them, but.... Jeebus. How come I can't make enemies with something wingless instead?

Sexy Hairspray, the weapon of champions.

(Is it that obvious I'm playing with the new "add picture" feature on Blogger? Ah well. it's fun. Even though it's a bitch to arrange. C'est La Vie.)