Feeling Battle-Scarred and Victorious

The (very macho) screams you just heard came from me after half a bottle of hairspray didn’t kill this sucker that was chilling on my ceiling. (I wasn’t about to walk under it to get to my kitchen where I keep the bug spray.)

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I had to roll up a magazine and go Rambo on its Andre the Giant-sized ass and LeBron James-length legs.

There’s a cloud of “light hold staying spray” making it difficult to breath right now, but suffocating after an asthma attack is a small price to pay after a battle royale against a grasshopper-spider-daddylonglegs-freak of nature that infiltrated my Castle of Solitude.

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