Spiders, Barbies, and Elton John.
November 30th, 2001 by Kevin
Wow. The support of my wonderful e-buddies against the evil psychotic freak has been swell. I was going to delete the post, but I’m not. I’m leaving it up to remind myself yet again that Not Everyone I Meet On the Internet Is A Wonderful Human Being. Sometimes I forget that.I have to admit, I was a little spooked. At time the Internet scares me. I imagine some pimply little nerd locked away in a basement, frantically typing code so as to hack into my computer and find my home address. My worst fear is coming home one day and finding that freak in the closet with a taser or something. Yow.
I’ve never quite gotten over my fear of the Insidious Closet Monster. It just seems like something justhas to be in there. I’ve tried to sleep with that damn door open as some kind of bravery test, and I can’t do it. Nor can I walk up the basement stairs. I have to run at the speed of light, because the Basement Goblin will get me. D, laughs his ass off every time I go down there to put laundry in the dryer. I walk down the steps calmly as can be, and suddenly,
thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-THUNK-THUNK-THUNK!!
I come flying up the steps like a deranged lunatic.
I truly believe in the Basement Goblin and the Closet Monster. No one can convince me that creepy little icky things don’t live in dark places. Anywhere spiders like to hang out, other evil things are sure to be.
I’ve been very lucky with the spider population lately. My house is usually overrun with spiders, because it’s about a hundred years old, and full of weird little nooks and crannies. I get spiders that are big enough to take a chunk out of my cat.
I can’t kill them. I can’t even be in the same room with them. I’d rather have a huge, snarling sabertooth tiger in my house than a spider. Spiders terrify the crap out of me. I will wake a sick person up at three AM to kill a spider with absolutely no remorse. I can’t sleep if there’s one in my line of vision; and if I can’t sleep due to pure abject terror, I’m taking everyone else with me until the spider is gone. It’s a survival mechanism.
So I think I can assume that D. is no longer upset with me, due to the fact that he jumped on me at 3 AM last night when I went to bed. Which is great. I read on a site yesterday that a single orgasm burns 250 calories, which to me is like getting an extra monetary bonus for winning the roulette in Vegas.
I am having a huge dilemma as far as what to buy J. for Christmas. I really want to get him this cool little educational toy that will teach him to read. It’s like the Lexus version of the Speak and Spell. You can even download stuff of of the Internet directly into it. It’s pretty damn cool. It’s also a hundred bucks. I’m not a complete cheapskate, and you’re supposed to be able to use it for years(Warning: Gullible Consumer Alert), but I’m a little financially challenged at the moment.
I asked J. what he wanted for Christmas, and he said, \”Barbies\”. Nope. Sorry, kid, it’s not gonna happen. I’m sorry, I know it’s very PC to let your kids play with toys which are designed for the opposite gender. I know that it’s supposed to make them less sexist or less chauvinistic or whatever. But I’m already convinced that my son is going to be a raving drag queen, and while I will still love him and still accept him(hell, it beats becoming a gangbanger or a pro wrestler), I’m not going to be the one to steer him in that direction.
I asked him what he wanted that I would actually buy, and after he gave me a very admirable dirty look, he said, \”cars\”. Matchbox cars cost 55 cents. I can deal with that. So I’m thinking of getting him Matchbox cars and asking my father to spring for the hundred-dollar Wonder Toy.
My dad is loaded, but he’s notoriously cheap. I’ve never really asked for much money from him, since I’ve been working since I was nine and have never needed it. However, in the advent of my living on a very sub-standard fixed income, I have found it necessary to hit him up a few times.
Trance: Dad, can I borrow some money?Dad: For what?
Trance: (For crack, Dad. I smoke crack.) For Pull-Ups, Tampax, Aleve, just some stuff from the drugstore.
Dad: OK, here’s ten bucks.
Trance: (?) Dad, have you been to the drugstore lately?
Dad: (growing irritated) OK, OK, here’s twenty.
Trance: Thanks, Dad. So anyway, what are you doing tonight?
Dad: Taking my twenty-six year old girlfriend out to Spago.
Trance: Ah.
My friends think my dad looks like Elton John, which provides me no end of mirth, because he would die if he heard that. P>
I occasionally hit the karaoke bars with my dad, because we both sing, and it’s always good for a cheap laugh. He always tries to find the most recent, trendy song in the song book. He actually downloaded the lyrics to \”The Real Slim Shady\” when it came out, and sang it at karaoke. Sang it very well, I might add - I was thoroughly impressed. It’s a very surreal feeling to sit in a crappy bar watching your 56-year-old father rap.
I really look like death today, but I’m hoping to get over it. I want to go out and dance tomorrow night. I have an ocean of stress that needs to be released. I’m actually toying with the idea of going to this freaky-freaky Gothic bar on the north side. I used to hang out there a lot back in my rash, pierced, Technicolor youth, and I think it would be fun. However, I look very \”normal\”(boring) now, and I might get beat up by some vicious, latex-bustiered goth princess for being a poseur.
At any rate, you can be sure that tomorrow night I will be drinking cheap domestic beer, wearing something black and trashy, and shaking my booty with a vengeance.
Eminem wrote on 12/28/07 at 11:00 am :
Eminem…
I Googled for something completely different, but found your page…and have to say thanks. nice read….
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