You may call me Quiana, Spider Toucher. That’s right, bitches. I totally touched a spider. Cathi had one on her shoulder and I swatted it off in one swift motion—ninja-style.
Now Cathi may assert that first I danced around deep breathing before darting in while squealing like a Swiss school-girl whapping blindly at her shoulder. You should not believe her. Particularly so if she tries to tell you that following the whapping I danced around in circles shaking my goose-bump covered extremities, whilst yowling “bleh bleh bleh!”
Cathi is shifty and may also be suffering from Post-traumatic Stress Syndrome, thus her recollection of the event may be screwy.