Good night, dying of fright, get out the dynamite

Okay, I've had enough. This has been going on for weeks, and I just can't take it anymore. To emphasize my point, I'm going to make it big and bold:

The news media MUST stop airing bedbug stories, effective immediately.
It is freaking me out.

It seems like every time I turn on the news, they're talking about bedbugs. In hotels, hospitals, stores; which cities and states have the most cases; how to tell if you have them; and on and on, ad nauseum. Each story is accompanied by large photos of the wretched things, along with disgusting, crawling video footage. In case you haven't read about it here yet, I HATE BUGS. (I even have a blog label for it.) So, while this  neverending discussion of infestation is probably mildly disturbing to normal people, it is really messing me up. Pretty soon, I'm going to have to sleep standing in the corner, whimpering, because I fear all of my furniture.

I haven't had as much time to watch the news since I went back to work a couple of weeks ago, so I was starting to relax a bit. Until yesterday...when I heard about the North American Bedbug Summit. They are having a freakin' summit--the kind of thing usually reserved for talks about nuclear disarmament and such--to talk about bedbugs. If I had thought the mere existence of such an event was the worst part, though, well, I would have been wrong. This morning, I heard the following bone-chilling quote from someone associated with the summit: "If you start with one bedbug now, you will have 30,000 in a matter of six months." He may have said more, but I can't be sure, since I fell into a dead faint in my kitchen.

Media people, I know why you run the bedbug stories: ratings. No one wants to get bedbugs, so everyone watches your programs in hopes that you will reveal some magical bedbug-eradication secret. But please, I am begging you. Stop now, while I can still go to bed without thinking about hundreds of little bug feet.

Note: If any Homeland Security/FBI/terrorist watch list types happen to be reading, I don't actually have dynamite, nor do I have any means by which to procure it. I was just trying to be funny in the title of this post. Please don't send me to jail. You just know there are bedbugs there.

No, Mr. Spider, I expect you to die

I hate spiders. (I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this before.) Since I hate them, I am a huge chicken and don't want to kill them…but my husband has basically refused to kill critters for me anymore, so I am on my own. Which would be scary enough in and of itself, but I think the spiders are getting smarter. And that, my friends, is simply terrifying.

Sunday morning, I stumbled out of bed in my usual stupor to let the dogs out. Since I take something to help me sleep, I'm usually pretty confused for the first half-hour or so after I get up. I was collecting the dogs' dishes to feed them, when I saw it. Huge, black, evil freakin' spider, hanging out by the laundry room door. We keep a rolled-up catalog in the kitchen for killing critters (and threatening wayward mutts), so I grabbed it and steeled myself for battle. I gave the big #$%*^!& a solid swat, and stepped back to check his whereabouts. Except there were no whereabouts, because he was gone. No telltale smoosh on the catalog, but no sign of creepy-crawly, either. Then I heard a scratching, scuttling sound. And noticed that the catalog—which was still IN MY HAND—was moving. The spider had apparently seen the catalog coming, decided it would be a lark to cause me to have a fatal heart attack at 6:15 on a Sunday morning, and jumped inside. I was now holding one JC Penney's underwear ad, and one eight-legged ball of evil. I immediately broke out in a cold sweat, felt faint, and nearly wet myself, simultaneously. With more presence of mind than I thought I possessed, I shook the catalog violently until the monster fell out, then proceeded to beat him into oblivion. Have you ever seen Dr. No (the first James Bond movie)? Remember the tarantula scene? It was kinda like that. (For those of you who have never seen Dr. No, Bond wakes up in his hotel room to find a tarantula crawling up his arm. He flings it off, grabs a shoe, and pounds it repeatedly. During the beating, there is a big, crashing chord that plays with each whack. BAM! BAM! BAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!!! Then Bond wanders weakly off to the bathroom, clutching his stomach, presumably to hurl.)

This repeated pounding on the floor with the catalog woke up my husband, muttering about the racket. Of course, if the spider had crawled out onto my arm? He would have found me in the middle of the kitchen floor, dead of fright, and surrounded by hungry, confused (but mostly hungry) dogs. And I'm sure the spider that caused it would have been long gone. Even Gil Grissom wouldn't have been able to solve that one.

My name is absepa, and I am a STATS sufferer

Severe Tick-Associated Trauma Syndrome (STATS)

Severe Tick-Associated Trauma Syndrome, or STATS, is a short-lived but deeply distressing condition directly attributable to a variety of the family Ixodoidea, more commonly known as a tick. It typically affects individuals who are predisposed to moderate to severe entomophobia (or fear of insects), but anyone can be affected. There is no known cure for STATS, although the severity of the condition typically lessens as time passes following the initial contact with the tick.

Symptoms
Although each individual presents differently when affected with STATS, one or more of the following symptoms may be observed:

- an overall “freaked-out” appearance
- sobbing
- whimpering
- trembling
- bouts of swearing (directed toward those @#$* bugs)
- nausea (typically observed during the process of removing the tick)
- an intense need for chocolate and/or a glass of wine (following tick removal)

Following the removal of the tick, the STATS patient may suffer from episodes of skin-crawling sensations (also known as the “heebie-jeebies”). A more violent form of the heebie-jeebies, known as the “willies,” might cause the patient to leap suddenly from a seated position and begin tearing at their clothing, in fear that there is another tick somewhere on their body. Also, do not be surprised if the patient desires to immediately launder (or perhaps burn) any garments, bedding, pets, relatives, etc., that could possibly be housing another tick. This is normal behavior following such an experience.

Treatment
There is no formal treatment for STATS, but caregivers of patients are advised to be gentle with sufferers following an attack. Mocking, teasing, or accusations that the patient is being “too much of a drama queen” generally will not aid the patient in their recovery, and might cause feelings of bitterness in the patient. Caregivers are advised to be kind to the patient; offer supportive words and a tender hug; and provide the patient with a “treat” such as chocolate, ice cream, or cake, and perhaps an alcoholic beverage. This type of offering will typically go a long way toward improving the patient’s overall disposition. The treatment phase of STATS can be expected to last a few hours, but patients may continue to exhibit some symptoms of this illness for a few days up to a couple of weeks. In rare cases, patients who were severely traumatized might continue to suffer the willies and/or the heebie-jeebies throughout the summer months, when STATS is most common.

(Editor’s note: The neutrality of this article cannot be confirmed. It should be noted that the author is a multiple-episode STATS sufferer, with the most recent incident occurring only two days ago. It should also be noted that the author’s spouse not only refrained from mocking, but actually performed the removal of the tick, since the author was far too wigged out to do it herself. He’s a real gem.)