Tarantulas, Breeding and Evil in the Holler

The other day I posted a picture of my new desert themed garden scape.. thingie and a couple of my dear readers, Bah and Tiff, suggested that what it really needed was a big, hairy tarantula. There are a couple of reasons why this idea would not work in my house, mainly the Amazon's extreme fear of anything spidery. There would have been screaming, tears and things being thrown in my general direction had I even relayed ya'll's suggestion to her.

I have no desire to get knocked in the head by a flying household object, thankyouverymuch.

I've also placed a limit on the number of household occupants who demand regular feedings and produce waste. We are currently beyond that limit.

Nothing else that eats or shits. I mean it.

I made this decision when Miss Delicate Princess Kitty decided that she can no longer be bothered to walk down the hall to my room to use her litter box. She'll use it as long as I leave it sitting in the middle of the hallway, resulting in some interesting verbal outbursts on my part when I have to make those late night potty runs, but when I move it back to it's normal place behind my bedroom door, she prefers to take a crap in the middle of the living room floor, directly in front of the fireplace. The other four legged occupants of my house have followed suit, but I'm not going to go there 'cuz I'll just get myself all pissed off thinking about it and nothing positive will come from the whole farkin' mess.

Any. Who.

We have had tarantulas in our family before. My trashy-big-boobed cousin with the lazy eye used to have a pair of them, which she bred. This was back before they could afford a satellite dish and there wasn't any t.v. reception up on the mountain where they lived, so she had to have something to do for entertainment. Her ma, my aunt Moses, made her get rid of them when she got pregnant (She found another source of entertainment. I guess she was negatively influenced by watching spider nookie.) I heard she turned them loose by the back door of her ex-boyfriend's parents house, a story I don't doubt for a second.

Miss Trashy-Big-Boob-Lazy-Eye is just a tad bit on the psycho side.

Sometime during her pregnancy, TBBLE rented "The Omen" from K's Country Store, Tanning Bed and Game Room. It was then that she decided that the precious child growing in her womb was going to be, "a wicked lil f*cker like that'un in that debbil movie."

So she named him Damien.

Luckily, Aunt Moses refused to call him by his given name, insisting on using his middle name, Michael. Sometimes, little Michael is indeed a wicked lil' f*cker, but no more than any other kid with a psycho hillbilly for a mother.

So anyway, I'd better get back to work. At least it is Friday.. thank goodness.

Ya'll stay tuned, Bobbie over at Almost There has tagged me with a meme. This afternoon I'll be sharing six quirks of mine.. if I can narrow the list down to six. Ya'll have a good one!!