On Weekend Work & Spiders

Spiders. Why do they exist? If solely to scare the crepes out of me the second I spot one, shame on the earth. But really, in recent years I have become so afraid of spiders that I can't rest after I've seen one until I see someone kill it or I am over 20 feet away. Leaving Teep's house the other night, there was a giant black widow near the front door. I freaked out and a small conversation followed.

teep: "Have you ever seen a sun spider, though? They're so big they'll make your dick fall off."

j: "I don't have a dick, teep."

teep: "Yeah, because you saw a sun spider."

There's a reason Samwise Gamgee hates Shelob. There's a reason HP and Ron Weasley hate Aragog. It's because Shelob and Aragog are spiders.

Erratic/perfect message of the week: The Supernice Boyfriend texts terribly. The other day he sent, "i mis i" and then "moss u i meant". So I just told him I mossed him too. He is the best in the best ways.

The past couple weekends have been especially interesting in a work related sense. At my 'hula girl' party a week ago, in the middle of my balloon-crafting, one of the little

customers stuck around to watch me at work. I had crafted a turtle balloon for her a little earlier on, so she held it and watched silently for some minutes. After being ignored for a while, she just started poking me with the turtle balloon anywhere she could, saying "nom, nom, nom. nom nom. nom, nom nom nom" repeatedly as if the turtle balloon were taking unrealistically sized turtle-bites out of my body. This did not end until I left the party. I suppose I enjoy being nom-nommed occasionally, but she was in her awkward stage. She didn't know when to stop.

A while back, I had a bubble party at one of those wealthy neighborhoods where you have to be on a special list to get inside the gate, and the mansions dot the mountainsides within the community. Therefore I was not surprised to be slapped in the face multiple times with a star shaped bubble wand drenched in bubble fluid; insanely wealthy children often think they can injure adults with little or no consequences.

There are, of course, times when a child is cool. Mostly, the cool ones are the smart ones. Yesterday I had a 'Princess Cindy' party, and the little girl realized, "....I don't think you're the real Cinderella 'cause the real Cinderella has blue eyes." to which I said, "Well, I think she only has blue eyes in the movie. In real life, they're brown! Just like yours." After this, she and I were best friends and she was sad to see me go.

I always claim that I hate children, but I guess there's a soft spot in there somewhere for the ones that are being raised correctly. The other day at the 'Princess Jasmina' party, all the girls would continually hug me and tell me how much they loved my sparkles, my hair, my outfit, and my earrings. One of them actually kissed me on the shoulder after saying simply, "I'm glad you are here." I love the ones that are innocent. The ones that have been disciplined and that appreciate people and things, and the ones that state things solid and true instead of using roundabout ways of communicating. It's almost like they're further along than most adults in their psyche.

I guess that must be a rule. When you're a child you know what's up. When you become an adult, you become a blithering idiot, to use Cruella's term.

Jeero-in-Glasses