Tinder Dude, The Spider Slayer


At some point in my life I developed a slight allergy/major sensitivity to spider bites. As in, if I get bitten, I will wind up with a giant bump where the bite is, hives all over the area, and I will pop a fever like a movie theatre pops popcorn. I may also wind up with other not so fun symptoms depending on the bite. I once got bit behind my knee and couldn’t bend my knee for two days from the swelling and I had the worst headache I had ever felt to date along with having an upset stomach. It sucked.

So now I have some issues when it comes to living with spiders.


Like, I don’t mind if they stay in their corner if they pick a good corner to set up shop in. I’ll even tell them that. If I see a spider is making their home in a spot where they can’t drop down on me and bite me, I’ll let them live and I’ll make them a deal. They stay in their corner and I won’t kill them. But if they come out of their corner, they’re dead.

Which is what happened one night when I went into my bathroom and saw that my friendly corner spider had moved to a new corner over my bathtub. I have enough issues with spiders biting me when I’m dressed. I refused to be naked when a spider could drop down on me and bite me at any time. After years of waxing my lady garden, I’ve caused myself enough pain, thank you very much. I don’t need a spider bite on my boobs, butt, or beyond.

Except the spider was in a corner that I couldn’t reach. For once I wasn’t tall enough to tall person myself out of the situation. He was tucked tightly into a corner so I couldn’t hit him with a book or ball and I didn’t think that I could get him with a broom. What was a damsel in distress like myself to do?

Well, I started swiping Tinder. I simply swiped right until I got match and then I sent them this message:


It took a few tries, but it eventually worked! A guy named Jon replied. He was 6’2″, gave me his ph# and told me to text him. I sent him a text, he replied, and before I knew it, this 6’2″ knight in shining sunglasses was walking into my bathroom to kill a spider for me.

I wish there was more to this story than that, but there isn’t. We sent a few messages back and forth to make sure the other wasn’t a serial killer and then he drove over to my place to kill the spider.

Dude made it look easy too. He simply walked in, we awkwardly hugged each other and then I showed him the spider. Then that was it. My spider slayer helped himself to some toilet paper, then reached up to the hard to reach corner, and quickly squished the spider that had broken our agreement and was holding my bathtub hostage.

It made the best popping noise as the Tinder assassin mashed it into the ceiling with a couple pieces of Extra Soft Charmin.

I know we’re all thinking that this is totally a set up to some insane porn scene, but it wasn’t. He thought I was ridiculous for asking random men to come kill a spider and I thought he was ridiculous for driving over to kill a spider. We both agreed that juice pouches were superior to juice boxes and I had to apologize for my lack of Capri Sun. While he was drinking his juice box he was nice enough to look around my place to make sure there no more spiders and then he returned the wild abyss that is Tinderland, never to be heard from again.

Wherever you are, Tinder Dude, I hope you’re living a good life.

The lesson of this story is that there are decent guys on Tinder, chivalry is definitely not dead, and you never know what you’ll get unless you ask for it.

Also, you shouldn’t try to make deals with spiders since they’ll probably break that deal anyway.


How I gave myself a bleeding nose at 5:30am



I wish I could say that I have my life together. I want to say that my life is going smoothly and I know what I’m doing as an adult. I really want to say that I know how to apply winged eyeliner evenly, can bake chocolate chip cookies as good as my moms, and live a clean and organized life. These are all of the things I wish I could claim for myself, but I can’t.

I’m still trying to figure all of that out.

The truth is, I’m like that meme where everything seems ok on the outside, but deep, down inside my sock is falling off. Except my sock has completely fallen off on to my bedroom floor along with the rest of my closet. The contents of my cupboard have also fallen on my floor, along with several pounds of space junk.


Actual footage of my mess. Not a re-enactment. 

The point is, my place is a mess, I suck at cleaning up after myself, and this is exactly how I wound up with a bleeding nose at 5:30am last week.

Let’s rewind to then. My alarm started freaking out at 5:30am with the quacky duck noise that I like it to make and I immediately tumbled out of bed. It was time to go swimming. I was driven by some article that I’d read where some actor wakes up and immediately gets out of bed to start his day instead of laying in bed. I was also driven by the liter of water that I had chugged the night before to make sure I got out bed. Seriously, nothing is more motivating some vague memory of an article that I read at some point and the fact that I’m about to pee myself.


Also not a re-enactment. Actual mess. 

I refused to fully open my eyes though.

I was exhausted and had no idea why I was doing this to myself. I tumbled out of bed and started the short journey to my bathroom. It takes me all of five or six steps before I’m in my bathroom. So I stepped over the pile of laundry beside my bed. I stepped over my gym bag and then took another step and then my nose was bleeding.

I’d stepped over a pile of stuff on my floor, misjudged the step because my eyes were mostly closed, and then slipped on a pile of laundry.  Instead of bumping off my wall like a sluggish, human bumper car, to spin into my bathroom, I slipped and smacked my face off my wall. Like a wrestler headbutting his opponent in a championship match.

Obviously my wall won that match because I had to get ready to swim with a tampon up my nose.

So yeah, I wake up twice a week at 5:30am to go swimming, and maybe kind of have my life together? Like I have a job, I pay my bills, I go the gym, and I haven’t given myself food poisoning for a very long time. But I also have a messy room, can’t really cook, and sometimes I walk into my local rec centre with a tampon in my nose because I fought my wall and the wall won.

With that said: tampons are great for bleeding noses. You just shove one up the nostril that’s bleeding and you’re good to go. I recommend using a light or regular flow tampon if you have one. Those seem to fit best.


My Most Adult Moment



Let’s be honest here: my cooking skills are subpar at best. My kitchen skills are so bad that I am very aware of the last time I poisoned myself and the last time I started a kitchen fire accidentally. It has now been almost 3 years since I last gave myself food poisoning and almost 6 weeks since I last started a fire. While I’m genuinely hoping that a day comes where I get to say that I can’t remember when I last poisoned myself or set a fire, I doubt that day is going to happen any time soon. My kitchen life is not my best life.

My kitchen life is more like my most dangerous life and that’s ok. It keeps things exciting because you never know when the fires of hell are going to crawl out of one of my pans. But you know what? I’m slowly getting better at this cooking life.

Like I’ve stopped nearly slicing my fingers off!


This is one of my actual meal preps! 

Picture this: The other month I was in my kitchen cutting veggies for dinner and  I’m standing there and my knife is quickly chopping a red pepper. I scoop up my pepper slices and toss them into a container. Then I slice an orange pepper quickly and toss it into the container. Then I do the same with a yellow pepper. After that I slice up a cucumber and toss that on to a plate and lay it out nicely. I now have a pile of beautifully sliced peppers for stir fry and a plate of gorgeous cucumber.

Now picture this: nothing happened.

I simply sliced all of my veggies for my dinner and nothing happened. I didn’t yelp or scream because I dropped my knife, I didn’t nick off part of a fingernail, and there weren’t any weird thunks from me accidentally slipping while slicing something and narrowly missing my fingers. I just got a bunch of nicely sliced veggies.

I mean, hot diggity damn, I felt like an adult.

So I messaged the Tinder guy I had been chatting to about it and he unmatched. I’m not sure if it was because I was excited about slicing veggies or if it was because he was trying to talk about sexy things earlier and I made jokes about boogers.


Then I made a Facebook status about it.

Then I talked to my dad about it.


I felt almost like a grown up. I was finally standing in my kitchen and felt like I could conquer the world. Like if I could have, I would have stood on my kitchen table and opened a can of beer and celebrated Stone Cold Steve Austin style. Except I didn’t have any beer and my table is an Ikea table that I put together.

And I’m assuming my furniture building skills are as suspect as my kitchen skills so I didn’t think that was the best of ideas.

Also, I just didn’t have any beer because I don’t like beer.

The point is, this moment was my most adult moment and it felt really good. I’m hoping to have more moments like these, but I haven’t felt as amazingly adult as I did then since that moment. I’m sure it’ll happen again though. I’m really good at chopping veggies and I’m starting to get better at other things like cleaning my bathtub.

What was your most adult moment?