In the face.

After a fantastically relaxed month of July, the end of August treats me to several near heart attacks!
One LARGE hobo spider came rocketing at my face, only to meet his demise under my well worn flip flop. He had made his little home in my hair dryer that I carelessly left on the floor. His last moments were spent flying at the speed of style into my face where he quickly scrambled down my whole body (pervert) and was then squashed and nearly eaten by a dog.

Some crazy old lady on a street I never drive on claimed to have seen me bound, kidnapped and thrown into the trunk of my car. At the time of the incident I was actually making steak kabobs with Tracy and working off an awful hang over. The police were of course forced to fully inspect the situation, which nearly lead to Tracy's arrenst since the colorblind woman said one of the attackers was wearing shorts. Its August, what the hell.

I went to the after hours clinic to beg for a perscription anything for a stumach ache that has been bothering me for two weeks and I left with bruised arms from an inept nurse trying to draw blood, and a sore ass from the rectal probe that was "completely procedure". Both of those medical procedures kind of require a little mental preparation, I unfortunately had none for either.

'Salem's Lot

Written in a similar style to The Stand, but not as good. It was a story about a young man moving to a small town to write a book for about 3/4 of its length. The last quarter was a non-scary but oddly religious and violent vampire story. After this book, The Gunslinger and Cell, I'm losing faith in Mr. King.

Learning

In line at Safeway last night I had a break through. Some old lady interrupted Tracy's and my conversation to tell us about how she had deleted files from her computer. I think we were talking about cell phones and she assumed it was a natural segway. I had opened my mouth to ask her from what program she had deleted the files, and if she had tried a system restore or checked in her recycle bin yet.
And I stopped.
If I let her know I knew anything about computers chances were we would not make it back in time for House ( we just love that show). I had a sudden flash of us in her nick-knack crammed house trying to recover lost vacation photos of Branson Missouri. It would smell, and their would be cat hair. Instead I replied "o thats too bad, computers are just tempermental mysteries aren't they?" and I busied myself with my wallet as not to make eye contact.

first day

Haiku:

Where do the nodes creep
to planes and servers unknown
please don't die out there