The Times They Are A-Changin'

I think I've been getting bitten by a spider in my sleep for a week or so. Waking up with small swollen bumps in places too widely dispersed for it to be a rash or fleas (thank god), I had wondered what was plaguing me. For some reason, a spider never came to mind. We were watching Survivor last night when Miklos suddenly hopped over me, grabbed a tissue, and grabbed something from my cushion. Turns out my Little Miss Muffet-head was about to get bit.

This seems to be a recurring theme. The first time I was taken on a camping trip as an infant, my parents returned home with my eyelids swollen nearly shut from mosquito bites. In my last apartment, there was a large, black, furry spider who I'd frequently see scurrying behind my bed. (I'd have moved the bed to find him, but I figured the broken bed frame and all the crap underneath it was reason enough not to make the effort.) When I finally decided to refresh my bedroom and take on the gigantic task of relocating the bed, who did appear on the carpet in a corner of my bedroom but that dastardly arachnid! Normally, I'm a catch-and-release sort of woman (it's one of few veins of my personality that I'd consider classy), but when I saw the sonofabitch had nowhere to run, I did a quick consideration of all the bites I'd endured, and then I crushed the shit out of him. Sorry, guy. You drew your blood, I drew mine.

So now I'm on the spider warpath. Should I see any of them, yes, I will still catch and release them, or maybe vacuum them up if I'm feeling comical at the time, but you will not hear of me coddling spiders and silently inviting them into my bed with my sexy blood any longer. Those days are gone.

Baby's 1st Phobia

So here it is, my one unexplainable and recently-revealed fear: Going to the gym.

No idea where this stems from. Possibly because the last year of gym class I ever had in school was spent with a healing broken nose; possibly because my knees are shot at the tender age of 25 (they have been since ... say, the even tenderer age of 18); possibly because of nothing.

I can confirm that the reason is not:

• Self-esteem issues
• A desire to be enormous
  
• Freemason conspiracy

You know what? Screw it. I'm just going to go. I will probably break every limb on my body while changing into gym clothes before I even get to the machines, but I might as well do it. Why the hell not. You only live once, might as well scare yourself shitless while the getting's good.

PS... while sunrise was nice for sentimental purposes this morning, any given sunset on a clear night blows morning way out of the water. I celebrate and strongly encourage the nocturnal life.

I just saw an accident on the 406. Well, I saw the aftermath, and it gave me a giant headache because of my road paranoia and the fact that this happened about a minute ahead of where I was. I've never seen that highway come to a screeching halt; it took me completely by surprise when I had to brake hard and slow right down to 0. I won't describe the accident scene here. I hope the person was all right.

It doesn't matter what people are sayin', as long as they're talking about ya

I'm getting a bit of a Homolka vibe from someone. It's very creepy, and I don't understand the whole situation, but ya. Asking for my cell number after you talk to me for 5 seconds or so on MSN is strange. Asking me to webcam with you is weird. More so if you're a girl (but in general too).

This person was almost a roommate two years ago. This is when I tell myself: thank your intuition for sidestepping that calamity.

Thanks.

Crazy is in fashion. There was a guy who came into the store tonight who was rambling on about the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer (Maria, Maria), as if it was some new-fangled concept. It began as him rambling on about how cashiers "don't care anymore" about learning the intricacies of international calling cards [which they don't typically use, and are never asked about, except by misinformed, economy-crazed lunatics buying female antiperspirants because a male kind burned them once]. When I accidentally mumbled "it's called minimum wage" audibly enough for him to hear me, he went off on a tangent about GM workers in the States being demoted from pays of $29/hour to $11.50/hour and asked me if I thought that was fair. I said, "I don't think that actually happened to anyone, but they're still making more than I am, and they have superior health benefits." (And whether his ranting is true or not, isn't that more properly an example of the rich getting poorer??)

I do this all the time. I don't know if it's that I LIKE to egg on crazy people to see which direction their opinions will jerk to the very next second, or if I just fucking hate people who are so distanced from reality, but something about it was irritating, so I let it go on, despite the troubled expressions of onlookers.

"Yeah?? Well it's going to cost you a lot more to buy things soon!" he rambled.
"It already does," I said.
"You bet it does!" he twitched.

Good comeback!

"I was the one rallying for years to try and get the wages up!!!" he roared.
"Uh, yep..."
"They never did it!"

Yeah, you make a lot of sense. Tonnes. Thank god for you, Crazy Man. Thank god for your rallying, yours alone, no one else's, thank god for your crazy blather, and thank god I didn't have to listen to that crazy bullshit for more than a few minutes. And, hey, good luck with the Lady Speed Stick.