Spiders +me = not a happy me

One time when I was about 11 years old, my mom found a large spider on our front stoop. She went and got her hair spray (cause you have to paralize the sucker before you step on him with that final blow). I stood back to watch; waaaay back cause that sucker was HUGE (remember that spider phobia a few posts back?).
My brave mother calmly (by calm I mean shreaking and jumping around) used the entire can of hairspray to subdue the viscious evil spawn of Lucifer. When the cloud of spray settles, I could see the shrivled spider's still monumental size. I was panic driven and helped my mother stay calm but jumping up and down screaming, "GETITGETITKILLITQUICKOMGWE'REALLGONNADIE!!!!!!!!!!"
Mom couragiously lifted her right foot (in a nice large boot, I might add) and brought it down with all her might.   *SQUUUIIISH*
Now mom is screaming for more hairspray. Huh? What's going on? Things went perfectly as planned. We've done this many times. WHAT WENT WRONG?!?!?!?
I ran for the spray and sprinted it to my mom. What I found was chaos and anarchy. The spider was bohemoth because it had been pregnant. Babies were everywhere. Many were running into our house. Unacceptable. Time to put my war face on. I ran and got my own hairspray and headed to the was zone.
Mom and I sprayed and tracked down every single spawn and squished them to oblivion.
It only took maybe an hour. That was on my top 10 scarieset moments ever. Because if any of those spiders had lived, we would have had to move and that would have made me very sad.

After typing that up, it remembered another story about spiders that you guys might find amusing.

When I turned 18 and started college, I started coming home late. And then later, and later...you get the point. It was really frustrating my dad so I made a deal with him. I could live in the playhouse and pay him $50 a month. It had cable, internet, heat and air, and a locking door; what more could you ask for? (A shower/bathroom but that's a later story). Long story short, he agreed. The problem with the playhouse is that it had spiders. They weren't there because it was unplayed in. You could kill every spider in there and two hourse later there would be at least 3 more.
So I kept a can of spider kill just outside the door. Each night I would carefully open the door (sometimes the little creeps would choose that exact moment to slide down a single strand of web to hang just at my eye level waiting to kill me with his venom-o-doom) and spray. Up, down, left...I sneak in a peek and would give the room a quick once over. Having noted all the spider locations, I would jump into the room and spray them all to death. 
I remember one particular time when the door spider almost got me (but I won; haha!) and I had sprayed all the enemy successfully when BAM! there was one that jumped from the ceiling (where he'd been hiding like a ninja) into my hair. There was lots of screaming and then I ran to my parents house to take a shower. Needless to say, I only lived in the playhouse for about 4 months.

I suppose my moral of all this is that the next spider you find, you should hairspray that sucker stiff and then set it on fire.