I have a spider living in my driver’s side mirror.

She (thanks to Charlotte’s Web, I tend to assume spiders are female) is ugly, brown, and very industrious. When she draws her legs up to her body, the entire assemblage looks like a very small head of Cthulhu.

She is also tenacious: when I first discovered her on Monday night, I took the car on the interstate in an attempt to shake her off. What I ended up doing was taking my spider on a lovely night tour of my city.

I had planned to squash her the next morning, but she was still in the mirror, hadn’t completely covered my door in web, and, most importantly, would make a real mess on any shoe employed for the task. So instead she gets to be called Helga, and I get to feel imaginary bites all over myself every time I look at her or think about her too much.


Headline Of The Day

I saw this on a local news feed. Someday, I’ll remember to make a tag for “things that don’t seem like news”:

Misspent social services funds point to problem


In Which I Gain A Spine…Then Rant About It Being Broken

Note: While I could provide pictures, I’m not going to, because my object is not to shame anyone: this is an ongoing problem I have with buying used books online.

Dear Bookseller,

I just received my package from you, and I must admit I’m very concerned for your welfare. This book’s condition was listed as “Very Good.” There may even have been some talk about “minor edge wear.” These words, combined with the condition of the book on its arrival, suggest several possibilities:

  1. You have recently been through some sort of apocalypse which affects your judgement of such things—maybe the condition of this book, as opposed to the garden ruined by that rain of toads, is indeed “Very Good.”
  2. The fancy super-sealed packaging emitted fumes, causing you to hallucinate that this was not, in fact, a creased and spine-cracked travesty of a paperback.
  3. You are totally, totally evil.

I’m not averse to a little work on these things, really: I know I’m demanding. My paperbacks are going to be clear-Contact-papered, after all, and sometimes buying a used book means that I take a Sharpie or some paint and touch up little spots here and there before I preserve it.

I preserve it because, in my cockeyed optimism, I assume it will be good.

You sent me this copy of this novel because you, in your cockeyed optimism, assumed that I was either apathetic, mentally blunted, or visually impaired. I’m no more whipping out a Sharpie for this than I am performing CPR on the mummy of Ramses II, and for exactly the same reason.

…I didn’t punt it off my balcony in a rage, either, though, so there is that.

Am I going to mention some of this in my review? Let’s just say the chances are “Very Good.”

Off With (T)his Headline

Let’s hope they don’t change this one too fast:

“Private Guards Kill Somali Pirate for First Time”

What is this, Piracy on the Orient Express?

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Why Is It…

…that Germany has the most interesting cannibalism cases? First there was the man who recruited his own enthusiastic murder victim, and now this unique take on a grandmother’s recipe.

Somehow, I think this impulse came from the same bizarre lust for experimentation that leads young men to light farts.

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Quick Hits: Not Quite As Intended?

From a local paper:  Highway floral displays face cuts

From an e-mail, in which a chocolate shop was apparently having an Easter sale: 20% off Toady!!!!
(The poor toady: you know it’s a harsh economy when even henchmen get downsized…)

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Misplaced Madness!

From Yahoo!, of course:

Fish eats cell phone, still works after a week

Thank heavens–I don’t know where you take a fish for warranty service.

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