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2005-06-11 @ 11:77 p.m.
why get, when you can watch glasses of diet coke hurl themselves off your desk for free

Here is your horoscope for Saturday, June 11:
Your need for independence is acting up, whether within a one-on-one relationship or in terms of a group. Get some alone time before you get cranky -- and others get offended.

How totally rude, saying that I might be cranky and others might be offended. Heh, heh, not really. That's actually my M.O. (mode of operation).

  • Need for independence....check!

  • Acting up....check!

  • Needing time alone before revving up for crankiness...check!

  • Offending others...Check!! (Yee..haw!!! I'm definitely on board for this one. I have a bumpersticker on my car that says: "The more you disapprove, the more fun it is for me." And I totally mean it.

    So, it was still pretty much your average Its-hotter-than-the-surface-of-the-freakin-sun-in-my apartment-kind-of-Day. This heat thing is really getting old. I think this is like the fifth day in a row over 90. I'm sure in Texas, this would be like a cold front, but hell, I live near should be snowing June 11th, shouldn’t it? Or at least flurries. What's up Mother Nature? Is someone not getting any and you're making us all suffer?

    Okay, the reason I'm cranky, besides the fact that it feels like I'm a bag of Paul Newman's microwave popcorn midway through popping in a microwave, is that I attempted to put my air conditioner in the window today....for...


    And although I feel fortunate that there were no broken bones or smashed air conditioners involved, I still don't have it installed correctly and its teetering precariously on my window ledge, only held into place by my window. Yay me!!! Did I mention my back feels like Elizabeth Taylor walked on it with stilettos? Ouch! I did turn on the unit and all sorts of things flew out of it initially like lint, e-coli bacteria, Jimmy Hoffa's left pinkie ring, weapons of mass destruction (so that's where they were!!). I haven't used it in several years. Last summer I couldn't afford it, and the summer before I lived in a basement apartment.

    But I'm very frustrated. I know I have to remove it tonight before I go to bed, because the little side panels don't go all the way to the edges and I already know that at least 30,372 spiders have already secretly snuck into my bedroom and are planning to encase me in a giant poisonous web-like structure while I sleep.

    And then I have to listen to my mom talk about her air conditioning. She lives in a retirement community apartment complex. She gets free electricity and pays $5/mo. extra on her rent for A/C which she has on 24 hours a day from March until November. Did I mention it snows here in March and November? Doesn't matter, my mom always has on her A/C. So we'll be talking on the phone and suddenly she'll shudder. "Brrrr! It's really cold in here. Can you wait while I get a sweater on?" And I'll be sprawled out naked on my bed, bathed in sweat, wishing for a Nor’Easter. "Sure, fine." I have finally asked her not to mention the sweater thing when she's talking to me, because it really annoys me. If its so frickin' cold in your apartment, I have a simple solution. It's called: TURN OFF YOUR AIR CONDITIONER!!! Its really very simple. All you have to do is just go over to that little cold thing in your bedroom (No! Not the picture of your ex-husband!). Turn off the nob. Wait. And then you'll too, be sweating like a naked fat guy in a sauna-room. Whee!!

    Excuse me, but Holy-freakin’-hell, what that hell just happened?

    Just for a minute while I was writing this, I decided to chat with my friend “G” down in Manhattan. He was taking a night off from his Broadway show and had office duty. It’s always nice to chat with him. He’s the only person I instant message with. Right after we ended our conversation, I was sitting here, all well behaved and shit, and suddenly, out of nowhere, my Diet Coke, which was sitting on my desk, decided to hurl itself off my desk, all by its freakin’ self. I wasn’t anywhere near it. I didn’t knock the desk. I wasn’t typing. I was just sitting, staring off into space. And suddenly it just tipped right off the edge of my desk and hit the wall and then the floor. By itself...hitting the power cord to my computer.

    It was then, when I was sufficiently freaked out, that I decided to remove the air conditioner from the window, since things were flying around the room its so damn hot in my bedroom. I wanted to put my fan back in for the evening. So I tried to put the screen back in from the inside, and phttt! Damn thing. It kept flailing around and falling outwards, so I just decided to go outside and put it in from outside. Good to know you can put in and remove my screens from OUTSIDE. As soon as I got inside, I was suddenly aware that I was covered in mosquitoes, and went all girly, slapping at them like Michael Jackson losing at Twister a three year old not getting their way. I thought I got all of them, when I went into my bedroom, to put my fan back into the window and noticed a huge...


    resting on my leg. I know he was probably the deadliest spider in the universe. The Fangiepoisony-bitie-saurus. And although I didn’t have my glasses on, I somehow knew he had massive fangs, which he was just depositing into my creamy white thigh. Yes, its true, many people would kill to be in that position, biting my creamy white thigh on a hot Saturday night in my boudoir, but not you, ya little fucker. SMACK!! I actually hit him so hard that he kind of exploded and part of him ended up on my leg and part of him ended up on my wall and there was even some blood. Mine. My leg was bleeding. Can you believe that? Its not like I live in the tropics and there’s huge poisonous spiders jumping from one warm host body to another. I live near Canada fer crissakes!! So now I have a large lump and rash where he bit me, which set me to wondering...hmmm...maybe I should call Married Guy to come over and suck out the poison.

    Heh! Just kidding “A”!!

    Also when I went back to start writing on my computer, it was dead. So I don’t know if it was the splashing of my suicidal Diet Coke on its cord, or one of my 3 second alien abductions where everything goes kerfluewy for no reason whatsoever and I have to pretend like nothing happened, so that the aliens won’t think that they won. Hmmmmm.

    * actual size of spider was really only about the size of a pinhead. The writer, it seems, is prone to slight exaggeration. Signed, the mgmt.

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  • Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty