July 19, 2003 :: 1:36 a.m.
if they were Twiddlebugs I wouldn't really mind, but...
There are little bugs setting up a colony on my windowsill. The one by my bed. I am deeply disturbed by this, as you may well imagine. They can slip through the infinitesimally small gap between the windowsill and the window frame. It's so tiny that I didn't consider it a danger until tonight, and being that I'm an extremely paranoid person when it comes to insectoid invaders, this should be some indication of its insignificance. And now I don't know what to do. I don't want to sleep next to what is essentially a wide open invitation to join the Little Bug Brigade Party in Amanda's Room. I don't want things with twitchy antlers and squirmy bodies crawling all over me for fun and profit during the night. I've already been irreparably scarred by a particularly heinous vision of the late but not lamented huge centipede crawling around in my mouth, courtesy of my completely sadistic imagination. But I really have no choice, as there is nowhere else to sleep. The couch, I guess, but that's just wrong. I killed a few buggies, but I'm afraid that they'll just keep coming back. Like mildew in the shower and all those other bad things that never stop coming. Uuurgh.
In less grotesque news, I got to play the first Buffy video game tonight. Joe and Joe went and got themselves an Xbox, the bastards, so Adam and I sat around playing video games with them all night. I'm now very seriously considering changing my Grandma-sponsored birthday shopping list from "lots of books" to "Xbox and Buffy game." Because seriously, that was just COOL.
I'm cold. It's a very unusual thing to be in my bedroom, this "cold." Mostly you just sweat 'til you die, so I should probably savor the feeling. Instead, I'm shivering and not enjoying it at all. Blast and be damned, un-mild temperatures! If I had my way, the whole range of climates would be replaced with a warm and breezy 70-ish thing. Sure, there'd be no diversity, but no one values that anyway. Suckers.
I've been smelling something unpleasant in my room as of late. Something that is disturbingly reminiscent of, dare I say it? Poo. I've searched everywhere and can't find any, but there's that smell... it's irking me like you can't imagine. Or maybe you can. All I can say is that there will be heaps of hell to pay if one of the animals has soiled my carpet, because they all know better than that. And because if they have to shit in someone's room, WHY does it always have to be mine? Honestly now. What did I do to them?
Regardless... I'm sleepy. And Rufus just scared me witless by silently entering the room and then pawing at my thigh. Cute, yes, but terribly unexpected. Sneaky kitty. I gave him some catnip this afternoon; he got all lovey-dovey for a while and then attacked my hand when I wouldn't give him more. I think he may need to go into rehab, actually. I can see it now: "Rufus visits the Betty Ford Clinic." He is, after all, named after a celebrity. And just look at that face. I mean, really. He was made for the big screen.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005