2002-11-25 - 11:24 p.m.

That's right cats and kittens - 77 entries. And not a power outage or serial killer in sight. Hmmm - at least I get me. And to those of you that understand the significance of the above image, bless you. Bless your little Izod-embroidered hearts.

Yeah. So time seems to be going by fast. I can't remember time flying by this fast since that time that Soliel Moon Frye and I . . . well, you know. No, but seriously, I did finally get to see Harry Potter on Saturday and the spider scenes, specifically when Aragog is seen in full - yeah, besides scaring the shit out of me (I don't know if this is general knowledge, but I'd rather eat coal then deal with spiders) but when they showed Aragog, I was thinking that this would instill arachnophobia in a whole new generation of kids just like that episode of Punky Brewster where they went to those Indian Caves and everybody started tripping the fuck out. And Allan lost his head (literally) and I think Cherrie sunk in the quicksand, and Brandon turned into these dancing dog bones, and then Punky ran right into this ginourmous spider. And it was so fucking huge and hairy. And they zoomed in and out with the camera and flashed it with crazy lights and smoke and kept super-imposing negative images of skulls on the spider. Seriously Clyde, this was a KID'S SHOW. And for so long, I was CONVINCED that THAT spider lived at the top of the stairs between my room and my parent's room when we lived on Washington St. Man, now I'm all scared again. Punky had her triple breast reduction to allay her fears, all I have is an old blanket and some nail clippers. --Ok, that is sick. I just spent 45 minutes trying to find a picture from that episode so I could traumatize all who read this, but I couldn't find shit. There's a lot of Punky Brewster stuff, but nothing from that episode. I guess it's for the best. It's like that movie The Ring. Except instead of a haunted tape it's a spider, and instead of dying after you see it you just get really fucking freaked out. Forever.

Oh yeah, I really liked Chamber of Secrets. No big shock there. Professor Lockhart and Lucius Malfoy stole the movie. Make sure to watch past the credits. There's a little bit there. Not to be confised with "the old bit", but a good bit nevertheless.

My feet smell. Seriously. Woo-EE. Do they reek. Youch. So there's this French Vanilla Cappuccino Ice Cooler X-Treme Slush drink that they have over at the Irving across the street and I. Am. So. Addicted. To. It. Coffee and me should have as little to do with each as possible. You'd think the fact that the drink resembles cat diarrhea when it's getting poured into the cup would be enough to turn me off. You would be wrong. I love it. I would kill for it. I don't mean I would kill to have some. I mean, if the coffee instructed me to kill someone, I would gladly do it without any hesitation. Well, if it were someone like Helen Hunt or Kim Delaney I'd do it without hesitation, but if it was like Coty or Peter, I might hesitate for a few minutes. But if it was any of my WNYX-ers that it put a hit on than I'm afraid I'd have to send that delicious drink to its room for a solid 3 years. 3 years! It's already told me to rip up my 4-H membership. And I did. No questions asked. (Shhhhhh! Don't say anything, but I never even HAD a 4-H membership - but we'll just keep that between us . . . crap, I hope coffee drink doesn't read this or I am so screwed.)

Went to Rick's show, "A New Brain", on Sunday in Plymouth with Andrea. It was really good and it was the closing night so it was bittersweet for all the actors and I have to admit that even I, the old heartless war horse of heartlessness teared up when they brought Joy up on stage and presented her with a bouquest of posies and a gift certificate to Red Lobster. What? That didn't happen. Man, I would have teared up if it did. Jeeze, what do you think I am, some sort of unfeeling android? IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK?! Asshole. I never saw another butterfly. Yeah, so Rick's show was really good, and he was the lead, and was in like 24 or 28 numbers. And there wasn't a red sequin in sight. He was great. Rick can come out on to a stage and read the dictionary and it will make me bust a gut, so the fact that he had his face in his plate of spaghetti and was also dodging menacing giant anthropomorphic frogs on scooters only made it that much better. I'm a sucker for the easy laugh of an menacing anthropomorphic frog riding a scooter. Who isn't?

I talked to Jimbo earlier tonight. He's in San Francisco now. But it was no easy trip getting there. Well, it was quicker than the way that WE took, but he definitely ran into a few hurdles. He called Tuesday night as he was stranded in a fogged-in Detroit airport. Mmmmmm, Detroit. Delicious. Except not. At all. Everything got squared away though and he made it to L.A., then Santa Barbara, and is now in San Fran. He agreed that Santa Barbara is definitely God's version of a human Venus Fly Trap. It tricks you into looking around. And then you decide you love its sweet smell so much that you never want to leave. And you decide to quit life and sever all your friendships and kill your hamster. And you don't wear pants. And you just lie on the beach drinking frozen drinks and playing cards. And you take really long showers. And you sleep in. And you climb lots of trees and then fall asleep in the trees you were climbing. Mmmmm . . . pizza. Wait, I didn't say anything about pizza. Wait, now I did. Mmmmm . . . pizza. So yeah, with the sole exception of it not killing you with its venomous poison, it's just like a Venus Fly Trap. I miss Morro Bay. It was so beautiful there. This beautiful:

But yeah, time is going by quick. I feel cornered. At least mentally. I don't remember - are animals that feel cornered supposed to lash out or piss all over themselves? Seriously, I don't recall, so someone's going to have to let me know before I can figure out how to respond.

I've never lived by myself before. Ever. Well, I mean, there was that time I got trapped in the woods for a couple of days and thought I saw God. But I mean, there were all those mischievous woodland creatures out there, so I wouldn't really say I was by myself. And I stepped onto a bee hive. And the bees swarmed up my leg and stung me like 15 fucking times. Fucking bees. What the fuck they doin' havin' a hive on the motherfucking ground. Sneaky fuckers. Yeah. But like I was saying, I've never lived by myself before. Until now. Well, technically, Ben still comes here in the early evening while I'm at work to watch TV, but I'd say I'm pretty much going at it alone now. It's not like we saw much of each other before anyway, what with him working while I was at class and then me working while he was home and coming home after he went to bed. But now most of his shit is gone and it seems pretty weird. He's roosting about over in Rollinsford getting the new house all ready. Pissing in the corner of each room and what not. Seriously, he could not take his bed apart fast enough and truck it on over to Rollinsford. So yeah - he's there. We had a "Ben signed the papers for the house and he's as happy as a pig in shit" party at the new house last Friday. Andrea and Phil and the kids, Aaron & Michelle, Nick & Amy, and Chad and Mackenzie all showed up to help with the drinking of beer and the eating of pizza. Yeah, so everyone there except dogs and kids (who don't count) were married or were getting married except for Ben and me. Although Brooke suggests that if Ben buys a house in Vermont we could take care of that. That Brooke - HI-larious. The house is nice enough, even if all the door frames are only 6 feet tall. Yeah, fun for me. I talked to people on my cell phone out on the porch for most of the par-tay. It really wasn't my thing. But like I said, I'm happy for Ben. [Wait, I *didn't* ever actually say that? Ok, well, now I did.] Oh, and I had to trot out the old puke ramps story for the adoring public like the grinder monkey that I am. Those god damn puke ramps are turning into this century's G.E.K. story.

This is going to sound like I'm joking but I am so incredibly definitely not joking. I fear that insanity runs in my family. I know, I know, EVERYONE thinks their family is crazy. Eccentric, Weird, Cannibalistic. Fine, fine. My family is ALL of those things and MORE. More = INSANE. Seriously. I usually think that Brad and I got the insane gene the least so we're relatively safe. But no. I think our blessing/curse is that we just spot it in the others easily, whereas they all think they are normal. K-Slopp, in my humble opinion has finally checked into the low-rent Loco Motel. Granted, he went to Christian School, so he already has those 1,000 points of Jesus's cleansing light against him, but STILL. The last like six conversations that Brad and I have had with him make about as much sense as a thimble full of honey. He asks questions that make no sense. He doesn't answer questions you ask him and he answers questions that were never asked. He always accuses me of "starting shit" and then when he gets frustrated with us he chalks it up to our "gun-toting, knife-weilding public school" upbringing. Sigh. TRUST ME, if I had guns and knives in school, Algebra would have gone MUCH more smoothly. Yeah, I'm gonna give K-Slopp a few more chances, but these last few encounters have made me scratch my head so much that I have a little meteor on my skull now. Nanny called yesterday, practically in tears and demanded to know why I was quitting school. Which I'm NOT. And I informed her of this fact. To which she replied, "Well, I knew you were moving, and I knew the next step would be quitting school." Sigh. And then she gets all teary again. But everyone in the family is like, "Well, it's November, and you know how she gets in the last few months of the year." Yeah, even more bat shit crazy than USUAL. Seriously, my grandmother starts getting super weepy around the holidays because she says they are so much work and they wear her down. Ok, I must sound like the most selfish, incondsiderate grandson in the world, and God knows I love her, but she does NOT have that much to do. She doesn't have to buy presents for the grandkids anymore (although I tell her to secretly keep buying for me on the side) and she usually has me or one of the Slopps help her with anything she needs done all winter (ie - shoveling, raking, making deviled eggs, etc.) And these two jokers only scratch the surface. Seriously, I can't imagine what Nanny's view on daily life is. I think she must see everyone as big cartoon characters that frighten and confuse her. I think Nanny looks over the dashboard of life and holds on to her plastic monkey of reality for protection and just hits the gas and burns down the highway of insanity. But that's the only way I've ever known Nanny to be, so I guess I wouldn't want her to change now. So yeah, long story long, I think my whole family is nuthouse nuts and it's only a matter of time before Brad and I start talking to rocks.

"They give me free refills at Burger King!"

So yeah. Thanksgiving is coming. I like Thanksgiving. Of course. Lots of turkey and stuffing and other stuff. I love stuffing. Oh my God I could live in an igloo of stuffing and I'd be so happy. I don't really think I'm going to be able to see too many people during the holiday either, which sucks. People aren't going home, or are traveling somewhere else. Or will only be home for a short time. I should have people come to my mom's. She won't be there. Then we wouldn't have to spend 6 hours figuring out where we should go and if it would be okay if we showed up to said destination with a party of 12 people. Blech. Oh well, it's not like I'll even be home that long anyway. I'm going back Wednesday night, hopefully hanging out with the friends that night, home for two days, and then back to work EARLY EARLY EARLY Saturday morning at the Wiggity-Wallakers. Keeping friends can be hard work. Anyone ever notice that? Especially the ones that don't want to be kept.

Man, it's late. I need to go to the bed. I don't like sleeping in an apartment all by myself. It's spooky. And CSI: Miami was scary and now I'm going to have nightmares. And this Flaming Lips song I'm listening to certainly isn't helping matters.

I hate the Bizzaros. Don't you mean, "I hate the Bizzaros!" Sigh. Stupid Bizzaros.

Here it is kids, Zach on Halloween. Millions of kids that visited the Fox Run Mall that night left with the glorious image of Riboflavin seared into their little stupid noggins. Ahhhh, Riboflavin. No one can say I'm not creative with my Halloween costumes. No wait, yes they can. I'm HORRIBLY uncreative with my costumes. Bubble Wrap, Blue, and Riboflavin doesn't exactly scream R.I.S.D. scholarship. Whatever, here it is, for your viewing consumption:

[Fear me children! Fear me and my ominous partner-in-crime, Niacin! Bwah-hahahahahah! Bwah! Ha Ha! Cough. Is this thing on?]

It's been real,

Rockin' Steve

---------New Feeling--------

It's not...yesterday...anymore

I go visiting, I talk loud

I try to make myself clear

In front...of a face...that's nearer

Than it's ever been before

Not this close before

Nearer than before

Not this close before

It is...is a million...years ago

I hear music...and it sounds like bells

I feel like my head is high

I wish...I could meet...every one

Meet them all over again

Bring them up to my room

Meet them all over again

Everyone's up in my room

And now...now I'm busy...busy again

I feel like sitting down but

I'm still thinking...thinking about my friends

In my garden...moments

But now I'm speaking out

Speaking about my friends

Now I'm speaking out

Thinking about my friends

-Talking Heads, "Talking Heads : 77"

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