Got woken up at 6am this morning by a man hacking the shit out of a tree, a woman screaming at him in Vietnamese, and these assholes:

The man, I assume, was chopping wood to finish the walls of my bungalow, which he clearly forgot to do before I arrived.

And I guess making lots of noise in the morning is what chickens do (although these would probably shut the hell up if they knew my history with chickens).

The screaming woman – I dunno, women just scream a lot here.

All natural things, I suppose.

Which makes sense, because I’m out in the damn boonies this week:

I came out here because there was a lunar eclipse and the little town I’m staying in is far away from lights and buildings and things, and I was TOTALLY RIGHT, GUYS, the eclipse was GLORIOUS, pat on the back for me, I am sooooo good at traveling.

Just – it would have been nice if the description online said “We, and our stupid chickens, will wake your ass up at 6am, so you probably shouldn’t stay up all night watching that new Netflix show about the Unabomber working.”

I could’ve used a heads up, is all.

Anyways, it was actually a good thing they woke me up because when I rolled over, I saw THIS on the floor next to my bed:

I was simultaneously mortified that I didn’t clean up before receiving a guest, and also completely freaked out because LOOK AT THAT THING, Y’ALL.

It was so big.

And leggy.

And all curled up, ready to pounce on my face and eat all my skin off.

I snapped that picture and then scurried back under my mosquito net and texted it to my friend, who is a boy and programmed to pretend he’s not freaked out by such things.

He said it was either a “wolf spider” or a “huntsman spider” and that either way it won’t hurt me, it’s only in my room looking for cockroaches.

Looking for cockroaches, he said.

IN MY ROOM.

Now I UNDERSTAND that bugs are a part of going to naturey places. I’m not an idiot. But I’ve had a rough couple of weeks with bugs.

 


First, this shit happened:


 

I was sitting in the lobby of my hostel in Ho Chi Minh the other night, and this guy at the table next to mine jumped up and started dancing around and yelling in Chinese (or whatever), and turns out a huge cockroach had crawled up his pant leg UP HIS PANT LEG Y’ALL.

Fuckers are bold here.

They also fly.

DID YOU HEAR ME, THEY FLY, I WILL NOT HAVE FLYING ROACHES IN MY ROOM, EVEN THOUGH THERE IS A NET AROUND MY BED TO PROTECT ME FROM FLYING THINGS, I DO NOT TRUST THAT SHIT.

So I made a deal with the spider that he could stay, but only if he promised to eat ALL the roaches before they crawl into my clothing. He sat there in silence, which I took as a tacit acceptance of my offer, and then I added some fine print defining “my clothing” as “stuff I’m wearing, plus stuff I’m not wearing, plus towels and sheets and pockets on bags and also body holes.”

Again, silence. So we’re good, I think.

And I rolled over and tried to fall back asleep.

I almost dozed off again, but there was all that clucking and screaming, remember….

 


And also this:


About a week ago, I woke up and my eyelid was all swollen like I’d been punched in the face.

I was thinking that something flew in there while I was on a scooter, but everyone kept saying “You probably got bitten by a spider in your sleep.”

Which is just completely fucking horrifying, if you think about it.

You’re all sleeping and happy, dreaming about boobs* or whatever…

*Not in my case, obviously, but I’m assuming you’re a dude, since no self-respecting female would read this blog. Plus my analytics say 60% of you have manparts, and therefore dream about boobs I’m guessing a fair amount.

**Unless you’re gay, which, now that I think of it, most of my guy friends are (to some degree, at least), so I should probably change boobs to penises, for accuracy’s sake.

***Then again, who doesn’t love boobs? I don’t wanna play with ‘em or anything, but I still think they’re great.

****And I wish I had some.

****Although I never dream about them.

*****I dunno.

******I’ll just try out penises and see how it feels…

Edit: You’re all sleeping and happy, dreaming about penises or whatever…

(Yup, that’s right.)

…and you look peaceful, and sweet, and maybe you’re smiling a little.

But then…

(…camera zooms in…)

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN!

A big crunchy monster the size of a Big Mac is
GNAWING ON YOUR FREAKING FACE.

And then you have a hotdog for an eyelid and you have to go to the pharmacy and try to say “Benadryl” in Vietnamese (or at least mime it in such a way that the 14-year-old girl behind the counter understands).

…And then go back a couple days later when your eye is even huger and more hotdoggy and also itchy and a little oozy, and try to say “antibiotics” in Vietnamese (the 14-year-old girl completely understands this time, even before you’ve opened your mouth).

…And then you stay in your bunk at the hostel with the curtain closed applying hot compresses every 20 minutes and keeping your nasty eyelid out of other peoples’ faces while it drains, yeah that’s what I said, IT DRAINED, WELCOME TO SOUTHEAST ASIA, YOU GUYS.

Needless to say, there was no way I was just gonna lay there this morning and let that shit happen again, no-sirrr-ee.

I got up, went outside to find a broom, kicked one of the chickens,* and came back in to face the beast.

*I didn’t really do that.

**Woulda been great, though.

After I’d psyched myself up for a bit – because obviously it was going to climb up the broom and onto my face and finish off my eyelid for good – OBVIOUSLY – I poked at it and jumped back a few feet, and watched it slide 5 or 6 inches across the floor, perfectly still.

Dead.

Praise Jesus.

That should be the end of the story, but that’s not how my brain works (you know this by now).

See, if that thing wasn’t here the day before, that means it crawled in at some point in the night and then died. Right? Spiders die, everything dies. But spiders don’t die just sitting there. They curl up into a little ball in a dark place or something. This spider died just sitting there, looking normal, in the middle of my floor. Like it was scared to death. SCARED. TO DEATH.

Which means:

SOMETHING SCARIER THAN A SPIDER KILLED THE SPIDER. But not by attacking it or anything – IT KILLED IT JUST BY BEING SCARY.

So let me lay this out for you, you guys:

Not only are there (probably) a bunch of cockroaches in my room that are going to crawl into all of my clothes and body holes – as if that weren’t enough… There is also something worse and more scary than a spider that is going to eat all the parts off of my face while I sleep, I AM 100% SURE OF THIS, THERE IS NO DOUBT.

And that’s why I finally broke down and ordered health insurance today.

Which was really all I wanted to tell you guys to begin with.

 


 

While I was typing this post, three insane things happened:

  1. Two little (not scary) bugs had sex on my screen for like an hour. That was adorable and interesting, so I was fine with it. But then…
  2. Another one of those spiders shot across the wall, and it was TOTALLY ALIVE. ****AND THEN!!!!…..****
  3. You’re going to think I’m making this up but A FUCKING RAT CRAWLED ACROSS THE RAFTERS IN MY HUT I SERIOUSLY CAN! NOT!

Thank god I have a will, Jesus Frick.

A thousand puppies will live forever if you share this post, I totally swear.

A thousand puppies will live forever if you share this post, I totally swear.

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I don't even know why this is a question.

Sweet. Check your email, dood.

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