Tags: covered in spiders not bees

X-Men: A good ol' disemboweling

Halloween and quizy things

Friday night was the KAOS Halloween party and I went as The Grudge. It was badarse and there were compliments on the creepy, but alas I don't have any other photos than that one of me creeping at the door of the LFoD.

On Saturday night we did our now annual horror movie Halloween with candy and delicious and scary ourselves silly. The movie selection this year was Mirrors, The Ward, Hide & Seek, and Skeleton Key. (Our warm-up during the week was Simpson's Treehouse of Horror episodes and Scream 4.)

In the middle of all this stuff we had a girly tea-party. Because.

I am 172 centimeters tall.
This makes me taller than 25.1% of men and 85.7% of women.



I was having this discussion yesterday with Lara about how I always think that I'm average height or just below average, probably because most of my friends are at least a half an inch taller than me and because both of my parents are taller. I still wish I was taller though. I feel more like my 'proper' height in a pair of high heels, which is why I don't really like wearing flats. (The 'living with people who skew the average' is the reason I always think of myself as still being flat-chested when I'm a C. I blame living with three girls who were DDs and above.)

Alison is doing NaNo right now, you guys! SHE'S A FOOL!
JWW: I have seen a thousand fractures

It's a thrilling tale of spider heroics

I just rescued Lara from Certain Death.

Or, more correctly, Lara just came into the living room to tell me that a Really Big Spider was hiding in her nightstand and please please please could I come get rid of it. Now, while I may be the only one in the house who will happily pick up the cute little spiders and play with them on my hands, I DO NOT like the creepy-arse big black house spiders. I don't even know what the hell species they are, but they're big and black and while very attractive and fascinating once I've got them in a glass, I don't want them running up my sleeve. Which they totally try to.

(My attempts to find out the species just now lead me to realize that New Zealand does have huntsman spiders we just call them Avondale spiders. God damn it, those fuckers are why I left Australia! Creepy little non-poisonous bastards.)

So I spent twenty minutes pulling things carefully out of her bedside table looking for the gross little thing, which ended up being much smaller than I expected but I wouldn't sleep knowing that thing was next to my head either.

CRUSHED. DEAD. He is now a part of the house permanently because I squashed him into the carpet. (Or her.)

I'm really itchy now. I'm pretty sure I'm covered in spiders.