Not To Be Pedantic...

(Bad Language Below!)

Unless you live under a very large Dan-Proof rock, you will know that I have been considered to be "pedantic" at times.

As I once had as a tag on my blog, You Can't Spell Pedantic Without Dan...

I can't help it most of the time, it's like blinking and breathing - it just comes naturally to me.  Typos in Emails or Texts are glaring to me - and even on my own I will say something like "It's their not there..." or similar.

I KNOW I make mistakes - most blog posts have a mistake in them, and if I notice them, I change them.  More often than not, it's more a case of the wrong word but still a word... For instance, "We went to town" might be typed as "We went tow town" which Mr F7 doesn't pick up.  I am nit-picky enough, however, that when I enter a search into Google, if I spell it wrong, I will correct the spelling before pressing enter.

I KNOW Google will fix it.  I know it will pull up the More-Pedantic-Than-Me line of "Did your fat silly fingers mean to type THIS and not THIS you idiot child..." which I can't handle. I can't be doing with technology mocking me, especially as it is mocking me without knowing it...

But I digress.

Quite often, I am pedantic for the sake of being pedantic.  I know that someone will say or do something intentionally, or know they said one thing meaning something completely different, but I can't help myself.  And that my dear reader, is the entire point of this entry.

Excuse the walls:
Decorating is a W.I.P

I fell out of bed not long before Kellie had to go to work this morning, and was sat on the sofa in a sleepy-haze drinking a coffee.  From nowhere, Ms Kellie exclaims "HOLY FUCK A DUCK!" and with one panic-induced-hand-tremble, points to the corner of the living room.

Now, compared to some of the spiders you get in here, this one ranked in at approximately "Meh..."

Well, for me at least - spiders don't bother me in the slightest (OK apart from that ONE TIME) so I remained in my sleep-induced haze, sipping my coffee chuckling at Kellie who now had drawn her feet up and was screwing herself into a little ball in the corner of the sofa.

Considering Mr Spider was a good seven feet away, and I am very confident it wasn't a Jumping Spider, I didn't see the problem.  Besides, Mr Google tells me they can't jump that far anyway - like, INCHES as opposed to FEET.

I remained in place, on the sofa, trying to focus, trying to drink my coffee, but nervous quivering, pale skin and watching someone try to implode on themselves does not help one wake up.  Also consider, I didn't have my glasses on nor my lenses in, so the "spider" could have well been a ball of fluff. Or a bat.

On standing, I couldn't help myself.  Th thought was there the whole time from the moment she said "Holy Fuck a Duck!" I stood, leaned forwards and peered at the blob-which-was-a-spider, and looked back at Kellie.

"No baby, it's not a duck.  It's a spider."

"Fuck off!" came the reply.  Not very nice, is it? So, I fumbled around for my phone, put the camera on, and Clickity Click! took Mr Spiders photo.  "I know it's not a duck you bastard, but I can see the blog post already!" she muttered behind me.

A hurtful comment, if I am honest.  Cut me through to the very core it did. And I giggled.  I hadn't even thought about blogging it.  But NOW the thought was there!

The spider was well entrenched in the corner of the living room.  Usually, a glass and a bit of card, and they are easily caught, but a glass in a room-corner just won't fit.  PLUS the sneaky little fecker was right up above the TV... So I had to use a plastic tub and an envelop.

"Oh God don't let it fall!" she said from behind me as I stood on the footstool.  Still seven feet away from it, still doing her very best impression of ball of paper trying to screw itself up even tighter.

The Teaspoon isn't brown!
It's a reflection off the envelope

Five seconds later, I was the proud owner of a Mr Spider.  I put a teaspoon in the tub with him for company comparison and took the photo of him once again.  "See, definitely not a duck!" I told her, and for a moment, just the briefest split second, I considered putting the tub in front of her to see that it wasn't a duck, but a spider.

I considered it, but ultimately, I like my testicles where they are.  And I like sleeping in the same bed as her.  Well, "sleeping" I should say. And I like NOT having to wonder if there will be a snake slipped into my shoe.

Now, you may be wondering dear reader, why I am such a bastard when it comes to peoples phobias when I too am Snake-o-Phobic.  And that's a very fair question.

You may recall last year I was attacked by a massive creature of demonic proportions after getting cornered by it.  Yes,, frightening stuff.  And you may recall that Kellie openly laughed at me.

And when snakes come on the TV and I get all nervous and sweaty, and people LAUGH and point, or other people email me photos of snakes, or take their snake for a walk and offer threaten to bring it to see me...

I would be a much nicer, kinder person had everyone not been a complete an utter BASTARD to me over the years!

I will, however, remain a constantly pedantic pain in the arse.

Remember, "Holy Fuck A Duck" can be taken in two ways by yours truly.