August 2007


&I have this problem with spiders dropping down on me in the bathroom. It’s pretty bad. Now, years ago right after I saw Arachnophobia; which terrified me.

For years I had to look around the ceiling of any bathroom I wandered into. And if, god forbid, I actually saw one I would soil myself and run out of the room. But I got over it.

Mostly.

A while back, I had decided that they did more good than harm when they stayed in my room, eating flies and what not. They don’t, however, clean up after themselves very well, so I started evicting them.

Except for when they come from above, in which case I kill them mercilessly. I don’t know what they’re thinking when they do it, “Let’s drop in on Dylan and Die! Yeah!”.

For example, I was cleaning the bathroom a few weeks ago, and when I wiped the vent of the fart-fan, a spider the size of my fist dropped out of it. He scurried around a bit and then I dropped my boot up it’s ass, so to speak.

That particular episode reminded me of a time when I was taking a shower at my parents house, and a spider the size of my head dropped down. I screamed a bit, because it’s the last place that I would really expect to see anything alive. Then, while I was still a little shocked, it smiled and waved as it fell down the drain.

When I emerged a few days later, my mother asked me exactly why I had screamed.

“A spider,” I said. “But it never told me it’s name and I can’t shower with something that doesn’t tell me it’s name.”

“Ahh.” She says. “I would have fled the bathroom.” This is probably true, although she wouldn’t have used the door, instead opting for flying through the wall, if history can be of any use of predicting hypothetical situations.

She claims to be terrified of spiders, and does a pretty good job of convincing the rest of us that this is the case. I’m not sure about this though, because a tremendous number of spiders have died in not-so-mysterious circumstances while she has been around, but honestly I’ve never seen a spider so much as threaten her.

So I’ve been crazy swamped at work. A Huge project is approaching the end of things, so the stress level is increasing. Dramatically.

I’ve got some stuff saved up though, and will be posting regularly in the future. But the magical overhaul of this site won’t happen for a while.

I’m at a friends place, where he just moved in. He says, “Hey, this is weird. Come check the closet out” and leads me out onto his deck.

He wants to put his kendo armor in this closet that’s actually a little bit bit bigger than my wallet. But there’s a problem; a plastic table top already occupies the entire closet. Well, most of it at least. Err, I guess that’s not actually the problem.

It turns out that the table is wider than the closet door, so it’s impossible to get it through. My theory is that they built the apartment around that table top. His theory is that the previous tenants were drunk. I like mine better.

He wanted it out. I told him he was nuts. I then mentioned that there was probably no way to get it without sustaining some sort of mild injury. I was joking, of course.

That said, we were determined to get that table out. And we did… it took us the better part of 15 minutes, but we did eventually get it. I lost both arms and sprained my right foot, so I had to limp around for the rest of the evening. Some dude sewed the arms back on for a nominal fee, and things were ok again.