Hyperion Day

Thanks to everyone who helped give me such a great day.  Thanks for all the prezzies and well wishes.  I made some great memories - a FEW of which I may write about soon, and some you'll have to just always wonder.  It's good to be Hyperion. 

Not long for this World?

A few minutes ago I saw a spider on the wall.  This wasn't any ordinary spider, but roughly the size of Fat Elvis.

Let me back up for a minute to say that I feel about spiders approximately the same way that I feel about child molesters, people who didn't like INCEPTION and cable news hosts between 8 and 11 p.m.*, that is to say - our world is not served in any tangible way by their continued presence and they all should be destroyed!!!!!!

(*I realize that by virtue of MSNBC's anemic inability to sustain programming my edict would have the inadvertent result of killing Keith Olbermann twice.  I'm okay with this. Are there any objections? No?  Good, let's move on.)

Anyway, the only thing that kept me from yelling out "Madre de Dios, a spider large enough to have its own orbit!" was that the spider was jumping from wall to wall in the corner of the room.  This isn't generally how spiders climb up walls.

(Except Mexican Jumping Spiders.  Or is that Mexican Jumping Beans?  I forget.  let's move on.)

Finally I realized that the reason the spider was jumping from wall to wall was my ceiling fan was affecing the spider.  It was at that moment that the ceiling fan caught huge, pulling the spider from the wall UP OVER MY BED, where it disappeared!

To make matters worse, I have dark giant-ass-spider-hiding sheets! (In retrospect, why did I buy sheets that advertised their product as, "Now with dark hue, to hide giant-ass spiders!" Who brags about this?  And what kind of moron buys those sheets?  Arrrrrrrgh!)

To make matters worser, I almost never wear many clothes in my room. I hate clothes, and go without them at every opportunity. And I'm freakin' succulent!  I'm not saying I'm going to be on the cover of GQ anytime soon, but when it somes to an insect meal?  Let's just say I would be the Donner Party's Dream Feast.  My delicious flesh and vital organs - even my bones would probably taste good, slowly braised! 

So, somewhere, perhaps only inches away from me, a spider - which in all likelihood will get its own congressman when the Census figures are fully tabulated, is waiting, watching me with his 8 beady eyes (is it 8, or 80?  I forget), just waiting to sink his 8 fangs into my irresistible flesh. 

If you never hear from me again, that's why.