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2006-07-14 @ 1:41 a.m.
spiders, scatting, strange holes in my thighs

If I was doing a pie chart of my day today, it would be 5% bad and 95% good, which is pretty damn good if you ask me. I had actually done that with my last appointment with “A”. Which do you want to hear first...the good news or the bad news? I knew he would say the good news, since I know he likes good news and I do too. That’s my preference actually. I can be totally full of good news, but for some reason, when I walk into my shrink’s office, I feel somewhat obligated to dredge up something horrifying to talk about, ya know? That’s just sort of how things are set up. You go to your shrink to talk about problems.

I mean, once you’ve established your shrinkly/patiently relationship, and have told them absolutely every terrible thing you’ve ever done (ok! So I’ve experienced slightly illegal nudeness in a local park kissed my cat on the nose. What!?) it kind of sets you up for a kind of weekly “what have you done now” sort of thing. “A”, for instance, has never asked “So witty, what great thing have you accomplish this week?” I mean, does he even think I CAN accomplish anything? I’m not really sure. He’s never asked.

I suppose asking a patient what great thing they’ve accomplished each week might cause them some pressure, but not me. Oh no. I mean, if I couldn’t come up with something totally fabulous each week, I’d probably lie and say something like “Oh, I cured George Bush of stupidity” and get a laugh. Because at least getting a laugh is something, right?

The 5% bad part of today was me driving down to town for one of my groups and it being cancelled and me wandering around the office going, “Gee, I wonder why nobody is here?” Reason? Because I am a techno-retard and never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever turn on my work cell phone, because I don’t use it, and also because I hate cellphones more than life itself, so I missed the call cancelling the group. And I have told the office repeatedly not to call my cellphone because why? I don’t use it unless a client is attempting to strangle me and I can’t get to my super special security whistle with the detachable break-away string or the equally deadly pepper-spray mitt. So I made a 20 mile round trip for nothing and lost 2 hours pay. I’ve only worked 4 hours for the whole week. Grrr!

Thankfully, the other 90% part of the day was pretty good, like this romantic scene in bed this morning....

“I love you so much...”


“You always love me not matter how I act, or what I look like or what kind of mood I’m in...”
“I’m so lucky to have you...”
“Ewwww, Guardcat. Please don’t lick my lips. You know how much I hate when you do that!

Yeah, I know you probably thought Harold the Geek got lucky, didn’t you? Oh, please God no, not that! Especially a Republican! Especially one who wears a safari outfit! Especially one who....gah....I can’t even think of any more reasons, because there are just too many against it. Are you listening, “A”? Its like putting a bird with a fish. Where would they live? And just because you just witnessed a 48 year old woman doing a love scene with her cat, doesn’t mean I’m ready to “settle”, okay “A”?

Anyhoo, once I tossed the old licky licky cat off the bed, I went to the bathroom and noticed something really alarming. Two large holes on my upper thigh. Two, for all intents and purposes, puncture wounds, right up near the (ahem) Garden of Eden and I was wondering, where the hell did they come from. They even had purple bruises around them. Yeeks!

So I tried to retrace my steps. Was it during Cat-sex thingie? No. Did I engage in any vampiric sex orgies overnight? No.

Although I had gone out on a big Spider Killing Expedition around 12:30 a.m. last night. Its that time of year when every spider in the entire Village comes and takes up residence on the wooden rafters in our building and then drop like so many evil eight legged freaks making me scream like a little girl. Gawd I hate spiders. Totally hate them. And I would say between the stairs and my apartment door, there are probably at least 467 spiders dangling at various heights, planning their evil attacks. Fortunately last Spring, I had bought a huge can of Spider Killer Spray and sprayed it about a month and a half ago. And things had been pretty decent. And I know that I’ve sprayed so much spider spray around my front doorframe, that if any men visit (hint, hint Harold the Geek), that they’ll probably go sterile, just by knocking. Ya get my drift?

So I went out about 12:30 last night and my doorway was pretty good, but down about 10 feet was this massive pair of spiders up near the rafters. They were like the size of Arnold Schwarzenegger ego. I immediately pointed the can up towards them and totally let them have it. It was like Spider Chernoble. And then they started running all over their web. And gee, how interesting, they were running in unison. Bloop. Bloop. Bloop. And then I realized something kinda interesting. Heh. It was only ONE spider and HIS SHADOW. What a geektard I am. So maybe there’s really only about 234 spiders between the stairs and my apartment. But that’s still 234 too many, I think I probably killed that big ol’ mofo with the blast of bug spray. But I did run into my apartment like a little whiny baby. Because, well, I am where spiders are concerned.

So the two holes in my thighs? Spider payback, I think. Because I’m thinking he probably has a bigass brother, who’s at least three times bigger, who came into my apartment last night and chomped himself a little bit of witty thigh burgers. (shiver)

Oh wait, I forgot, this was supposed to be a 90% good day. So I went to the yuppie grocery store and there was A/C. That was good, since it was so hot today. And then I went over and talked to this woman I met about 3 weeks ago in the complex. She wanted to hire me to clean her apartment. So I went back today and she showed me where everything was and gave me the key and gave me $50!!! Can you believe it? That was way more than we discussed. Woot! So I will be cleaning her apartment tomorrow. Our apartments are very small, so I can probably do it in an hour or hour and a half. Hopefully Garden Hacker Boy won’t be calling the cops again and tell them I’m breaking and entering. Note to self: Bring her phone number so I won’t get arrested and be sharing a jail cell with a large angry woman named Loretta the Tongue.

So after I left her apartment with the envelope of money and keys in my pocket, I walked over to Hamburger Island where I usually meditate at the edge of the water. Its been my place of solace for the last three weeks, with its large lovely pond and big trees. Interestingly, when I was about a block and a half away, I started seeing cars and hearing music. It turned out they were having Jazz in the Park Night, which turned out to be a very nice thing. I didn’t get to meditate to our fake fountain sprays that are out in the middle of the pond, but I did get to hear some great jazz singers singing such songs as “It Had to Be You”, “Unforgettable”, “It Don't Mean a Thing, If It Ain’t Got that Swing.” I love jazz. I’m in awe of good singers. And I’m totally fascinated by people who can scat.

Scooby be do be bo dui dui di di di doo doo dui Scooby dooo doo doo doo do. I mean does anyone write this stuff down? Can you imagine breaking out in a scat in everyday conversation? “Hey, I really have to get this report done. Can you hand me that Scooby be do be bo dui dui di di di doo doo dui dui di di di doo doo dui Scooby, doo, dooo dooo Staaaa staaa staaaa stapler.

Okay, so maybe it won’t catch on, but it was a very enjoyable show by singer Nancy Kelly, although the ground was still very wet. We had flash flooding last night when it rained 4.25 inches in about 2.5 hours. But that was yesterday, where the good and bad ratio was slightly different.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty