At the Golden Gate Bridge - brrr

Shawn Cassidy was in my dream last night, looking exactly as he did in 1978. He was my first big crush. Until Andy Gibb came along and stole my heart.

Last week, as I'm driving to work, I notice a spider hanging from my side mirror, clinging on for dear life. Part of me is rooting for him but most of me is accelerating faster and faster to get him to blow off! Then floomp, he crawls up into the mirror, safe and sound. Push him down a little and he's easily the size of a dime, ie, big.

The next day, no spider. Can't decide whether I'm relieved or disappointed.

Friday I notice a fresh web. He's still here. Arrive at work, there he is, hanging down from the mirror and I think, did he really hold on the whole way? Through my 72mph driving? Holy crap, that's a super spider. Then, floomp, he crawls up into the mirror.

The real horrific part is that HE could be a SHE and in some short time, my car will be swarming with little spiders. For sanity sake, I resolve to believe it's a he.

As I get in my car after work, I begin to wonder if he might find his way inside my car. I'd feel this tapping on my shoulder and hear, "hey, nice digs in here... leather... niiiiccce" as he rubs his hairy little legs across the seat.

Then I think I see something out of the corner of my eye - AAGH! Nothing. Then I think I feel something on my foot. AAAGGHH! Nothing. I conclude that I am being parachnoid (paranoid of arachnids).

As I come out to my car the next day, I see a fresh web yet again from mirror to door. Ugh, he's still here. But I get in the car and - AAAAAGGGGHHHHH - there is a web built from my steering wheel to the dash. My nightmare has come true. I wasn't paranoid, he WAS in my car. Somewhere. Hiding. Waiting. Determining the best time to jump out at me. I can see it now, caught driving recklessly, "well Officer, a spider jumped out at me".

If I Raid my car, I'll probably do more damage to myself than the spider. He'll just find a way out and go, "aaah, fresh air", while I'm inside choking.

Well, he can have my car for the next few days while I'm out of town, but after that, I am RECLAIMING MY CAR and my SANITY!

more on this later

In Excess

Hubby and I are totally hooked on the show Rock Star: INXS. It's American Idol but dirtier, hipper, and cooler songs. I can barely resist the urge to pull out my black eyeliner, dig out my studded writstbands, make my hair REALLY big, and dust off my Iron Maiden albums...

I was pleasantly surprised at how well the guys in INXS have held up, a couple of them still look pretty hot for old guys (in denial that they may be dangerously close to my own age). Quite a different story over at Celebrity Fit Club. Imagine my shock and disgust to see Jani Land of Warrant all chubby and boring looking. Not that he was a prize back then, but what has to go wrong in your world to end up on Celebrity Fit Club? Ugh, and Willie Ames. Charles was in Charge, but Willie was in the kitchen.

This birthday calculator is silly but fun. For me it said,

"There are 126 days till your next birthday on which your cake will have 37 candles on it. Those 37 candles produce 37 BTU's, or 9 food calories. You can boil 4.23 US ounces of water with that many candles."

ouch, babe.

Then it said, "Of unusual beauty, does not want to impress, well-developed sense of justice, vivacious, interested, a born diplomat, but irritable and sensitive in company, often due to a lack of self-confidence, acts sometimes superior, feels not understood, loves only once, has difficulties in finding a partner."

Ah, horoscopes, they're just so magical (read: sarcasm)

Name and Fortune

Jenny and I were at Michael's the other night & spotted yarns from Moda Dea - whose website Natalie designed - and loved the cool yarns. And they had awesome names, like Fur Ever, Jai Alai, Chichi, and Vixen, whose name alone made we want to buy enough to knit every call girl in Vegas a dish cloth.

Then I was online-window-shoe-shopping to feed my combo shopping/internet addiction and realized all the shoes have cutsie names too, like Smurfs, Truffle, Smooch, and Tiki Bar.

Who has these jobs - naming yarns, naming shoes, naming lipstick, naming nail polish? It seems easy, but is it? How many ways can you describe pink?

I want to be a namer. I think I'd be a good namer. I'd have to go places to get inspired. Like the zoo. But then I'd probably end up naming some pink nail polish "Baboon Bum" or "Piggy Pants".

"If, as you live your life, you find yourself mentally composing blog entries about it, post this exact same sentence in your weblog."

I do, but then I forget, or I get nervous that I'll write and offend someone. But mostly I forget. Blasted aging.

The husband is ideal. The friends are extraordinary. The work can be enjoyable. The family is...

AAAAGGGHHHH! That's where things go awry. The family is challenging.

Somebody get me a drink, or grab me my credit card, or give me some Zantac, or let me sleep all day, or turn on some ridiculous reality tv, or tell me a joke, or feed me some Krispy Kremes, or give me a punching bag with my brother-in-laws face on it. Hurry.