spidie isn't my favourite superhero

Bit of a pitiful bitch right now.

It started yesterday, when there was an uncomfortable fittage of my favourite bra. Usually this baby fits me like a glove, and it suddenly started feeling sore in the middle.

Now I have a mole in between my boobs as it is – it’s my Cindy Crawford [On Torso]. And for some reason I named it Sally.

Whatever, so I’m in a meeting, and it’s getting epic, the uncomfortable rubbing of La Senza against skin. Only it’s not Sally.

Chaps I’ve been bitten by a spider in between my boobs.

If that’s not a sorry state of affairs. I saw a spider lurking near my Moulin Rouge linen the other day and fully grabbed the Doom and went apeshit, but clearly the hairy arachnid with 6 eyes and 8 legs laughed in the face of Baygon and ended up more hungry for human flesh than before.

It sunk its hairy mandibles into my cleavage.

And I’ve grown a fourth noombie, which is fast becoming the tallest peak in town, only pipped by a synagogue spire in Glenhazel.

And okes. I haven’t found the spider yet.
That’s a bit kak don’t you think.

Spider bites. Arachnids love me man. Been bitten a few times – and FYI if you’re ever in FTV smoking B&H on the LHS and don’t see the spider actually bite you – it has a black tinge and it’s fucking sore.

When I was 12, we had a family of black widows doing their thing on a wall on the side of our house. While this is not cool by anyone’s standards, it is where angels fear to tread. So no one ever remoofed them, not even Evidence, the maid, who HATED living up to her name.

So then I rolled on one in my bed. Sorry, I know we swallow eight spiders in our lifetime, but you should’ve seen the damage. Eight spiders au tartare is a ghastly thought, but blow me Stuart Townsend, this wasn’t kiff.

Unwittingly, I happened to roll on it about an INCH. That’s 3 centimetres - above my poen. Crisis.
I couldn’t sit, had to lie down for 4 days while I vommed everyday into a bucket and nursed a seemingly endless migraine the size of Evidence’s secret Ricoffy stash. The stash was a cartel, ok.
But then there was the crater itself, which I shan’t give you a visual or sensory invitation to.

On the bright side – because there always is one, even if its 1.5 months away and is in Germany - I will now have two perfectly aligned chakras. Direct poen to boobs alignment.

On the chakras, I’m not really going through a hippie stage though. Or ever have. I once tried to be a goth and wear black lipstick when I was listening to a lot of Nirvana back in high school, and it really didn’t really work out for me, but I’ve never been through the bothnik I-Live-In-A-Teepee type of lady who does chakras and auras and crystals and dreamcatchers and stuff.

But two chakra spots on my erogenous zones? Perhaps it means I’m destined for some sexual healing. Yes that definitely definitely must be it.

So ja.