Centipedes, Scorpions and Hot Chicks in Horror Movies with a Freakish Desire to Live

There was a scorpion in my kitchen this morning.

Being a recent transplant from the north I have not had many dealings with scorpions. But, my exposure thus far to this insect ( through science class, the Discovery Channel, The Scorpion King ) suggests that these critters should best be avoided.

Two weeks ago, as I was catching up on NYC Prep on Bravo (my newest guilty pleasure) I saw something scurrying across the floor. Upon further investigation, I realized it was a huge centipede. The picture that you will see above is, indeed, a centipede. So, you can imagine that this creature scared the poo out of me.

(I say "poo" because not only have I gotten "poo," [read, "shit"] about my language in my blog from my husband, my mother has joined the choir in telling me to "tone it down." )

I fetched my J Crew flip flop and swatted it. It appeared a bit stunned, however, it kept moving. I put more pressure on the insect via the aforementioned flip-flop. Although phased, not to mention a bit crippled, it hobbled on.

Like the cow-killer ( whose death was mentioned in my blog during a visit to my brother's home in the Florida panhandle ) it apparently had a great will to live.

What is up with these Florida bugs?

They are akin to the young, hot chicks wearing bras in horror movies who, although having been repeatedly bludgeoned, burned, and maimed have this unnatural desire to live. They drag themselves, without the use of any limbs and predictably wearing g-strings, to a road for help. It is at this point in movies that I usually say to myself "I would just freaking lay down and die already..." but yet, this heroine lives on, driven by a strength that is beyond me.

I would be the first one dead in a horror flick. I would be the "friend," or the "sidekick" in such movies. Predictably, the sidekick always dies a horrible death.

So, this centipede was the young hot chick in a bra and g-string, who dragged herself to the road for help.

I was having none of it.

I left the flip flop on top of the bug and fetched a sandwich bag. If I was subjected to a creature that would not die, so too, would Chris.

Through some maneuvering that was pretty freaking impressive and courageous on my part, I deposited the centipede in the baggie and set it on Chris' computer along with a note that read "CALL AN EXTERMINATOR."

He did not call an exterminator; however, he bought an over-the-counter remedy from Lowe's. He sprayed the perimeter of the house three days ago.

Ants appeared two days ago.

And now here I was, faced with this scorpion, in the middle of my kitchen. I fetched a cup, placed it on top of the confused scorpion and found a baggie. Through some creative manuevering on my part, I placed a very pissed centipede in a baggie and put it on Chris' computer, along with a note.

"CALL AN EXTERMINATOR."

Florida bugs, these hot chicks in bras and sexy underwear, are an entirely different species than the Iowa bugs we encountered at our house in Des Moines. Iowa bugs are the sidekicks...the ones who, upon the first frost, lay down and die.

Perhaps I relate more to Iowa than I first thought...