Hey, Hey We're The Monkees!

Found this nifty thing:

SUGARCULT lyrics

Okay, back to the point.

Today, I had to experience something completely terrifying. I get home and my mother goes back to work 'cause it is only 1:20, right? I go into the kitchen to make a sandwich. As I am walking to the fridge, the spider from Annie Hall comes climbing up the counter two yards away from me. I am horribly arachnophobic, so you can see the problem here. He was blocking the exit. He was just sitting there, waving his two front legs around, just laughing at me!

What could I do? Here's Alice Cooper's song namesake and I am stuck in the kitchen. I called Claire twice since I knew she would want to know that a spider had finally imprisoned me in my own home, but she couldn't hear me either time. So I hung up and here is the action-packed sequence of events.

I take my food, and I dash to the door to the patio-enclosure room. I was feeling dashing.... I mean, in a mood to be dashing about. I unlock the door, and, with the hopes of freaking out the Manson Spider, I turn up the Monkee's record REALLY loud. I put down the plate, and then go back, and all I have succeeded in doing, is making Mr. Manson twirl his little legs faster. I go back, turn off the music cause it's getting obnoxious. I take my food and my bottle of water, and I lock the patio-enclosure room door, closing it behind me.

Here's where it gets exciting. I go out the sliding door and onto the pool deck, where I see ducks swimming around in the water accumulated on the top of the pool cover. They see me. They swing their little selves around for a minute, then, in a massive increase of volume, they TAKE OFF! It scares the bejeesus out of me, but I recover, and I go to the gate thing. I got through the gate thing, am ambushed by ALL THREE dogs, but I manage to push past their little foot-high, plumed-tailed selves, and dash into the house via the back door. I continue to dash forwards and past the door to the kitchen (which is a sliding door) and into the living room. The dogs are still out, so I don't need to worry about leaving my food, they wont eat it.

I put the food down on a TV tray sitting by the couch, and then I decide to face Mr. Manson. Kind of. I go back to the kitchen, still freaked out by this crazy-limbed thing on the counter, and in a rush of courage, I pull the sliding door shut and block the ugly thing from my view. I run back into the living room, and I actually ran cause it was a horror movie moment, and I grabbed a blanket. Suspicious that Kevorkian or something may have strategically placed spiders in it in an attempt to incite my downfall, I have to shut my eyes and shake out the blanket.

Once I establish that everything is okay, I sit down, and I enjoy eating my lunch and watching MYTHBUSTERS.

The End

I know, I am such a great storyteller and you just couldn't resist reading on. Now if only I had the guts to make a puppet for the Horror...then I could be the version of Sherri Lewis who means to scare children. Who needs Lambchop when you've got The Manson family's pet spider and Jack Kevorkian?

Well, yeah. I have had a strange day. I have no clue if the spider has been vanquished, so for all I know, he is down there spinning his crazy legs and LAUGHING at me, because I tried to scare him with Davy Jones then I locked him in the kitchen because the kitchen's sliding door gets jammed...:( I'm really hungry.


-Scottie: She Loves Guy. She Denies That The Ugly Kid On The Bike At LF WAS Guy. Guy Is Not As Crazy Ugly As That Kid Was. I Can Decide. He Is My Imaginary Boyfriend Until I Actually Meet Him.

"We Have Buried The Putrid Corpse Of Liberty" - Mussolini

Life is fun until its over, right? Unless the end takes a while to arrive for you.
For the past six months or so, my grandmother has been suffering with an incurable stomach cancer and this past Thursday, she passed away. I am driving up with my mother and my brother (My father is already there) to see my grandfather in New York and attend her funeral. I know that very few people know about my blog, but those who do will understand why I may be kind of incommunicado for a little while. I'll still have my laptop, but it's doubtful I'll have internet service. However, if you really do want to reach me, I'll take my cell with me and I think the majority of the people who would call me have that number. (If not, either don't bother or fish around.)

Right, so I was so inspired, that I wrote a song. There are no original words yet, but I have a decent rhythm and tune hammered out on the guitar and I am just improvising with the little cards my mother bought for the wake. I combined bits and pieces of the story on the cards with some kind of cheesy but meaningful poetry from my Sitto (Lebanese grandmother)'s funeral. I think it sounds okay, and I can totally use the tune for my mad song-writing career ahead of me. (Catch the written sarcasm there?)

The cheerful part of my life, however, is that I bought a picture frame. I'm just living it up, you know? Experiencing life. (Basically I needed a frame for the picture of Jimmy and Me at homecoming. Me or I? I think it's 'me'.) Seriously though, it's an upper since it is a really pretty frame. I think I look like a turtle or something in the picture and it is out-dated, but c'est la vie. It's the only one I have.

-Scottie: She's that person you'd see standing on a pedastal along with her critics reducing them to the 'lack of anything worth-while' that is their true self.

--"Just think of them as resting from the sorrows and the tears. Don't think of them as gone away, their journey's just begun."

Moi.

Hope is without beginning.
Suffering is endless.
Darkness is ubiquitous...
Strength warps to take the weight,
And bruised consciousness conforms under the pressure.

Right, guess who. Yes! One of my personalities! Not quite, though. There is my personality around my friends at school and events and stuff, and then there is me at home, involuntarily recounting the factors of each and every day that imply that I do not, in fact, serve any purpose here.

My first, primary self is a music-freak, is rude, is cruel, and doesn't have regard to anyone's real feelings unless they are a decent person. Otherwise, hurting them in any way doesn't seem consequential to her.
The second, kind of subself is quiet, detatched, and humorless. She will make no contact with any other people with the state of mind that they are only there to supersede me.

These descriptions are unfailingly accurate.

Any questions? I couldn't care less.