don’t be a jerk

This picture has very little to do with this entry. It was just on my camera. And take a long, hard look. Randy’s actually looking at the frigging camera. It’s gonna be awhile before that happens again.

 

The gates of hell are about to open near Los Angeles. I think somewhere around Magic Mountain. This is how I know:

1.) It’s fucking hot.
And I’ve discovered that, somewhere along the way, I stopped owning any shorts. Just jeans. I think there might be a pair of khakis in the back of my closet, but mainly, it’s just the denim. And, lemme tell you, it’s toasting my boys.

2.) Tuesday’s date is 6-6-06
- which is, of course, common knowledge at this point, but c’mon, that’s pretty devily. My birthday, thankfully, falls on the slightly less evil date of 6-7-06. Take that, Satan, you big jerk.

3.) I’ve been finding a whole fuckload of these in my apartment:

Holy Fucking Shit
 
I’ve seen this exact type of spider in every apartment I’ve lived in in California, and I have yet to learn what species it is.

Now, granted, the size of this picture make him look like a tarantula, but in actuality, these guys are usually about the size of my pinkie nail.

I say “usually”, because this specific fellow was bigger than my god-damn thumbnail. He was so strong that several times he nearly muscled his way out of the tissue that I was pinching him in.

(I don’t kill spiders. I usually toss them outside so they can eat the bugs that would normally storm my apartment. You know, like in Starship Troopers?)

What are they eating and how are they getting into my apartment? Or, more disturbing, are they first getting into my apartment, then growing freakishly big? Not only am I finding more and more of these things in my place, but they’ve all apparently discovered creatine.

These are questions with no definite answers. The only certain thing is that my apartment is full of huge spiders, and I’ve decided that they can only have come from hell. Which we will see a gate to open on Tuesday. Somewhere near Magic Mountain.

* * *

In other, non-Hell related news, I recently emptied the card on my camera. Here’s what I found:

This is Celia, Abe’s cat.

Abe was in the Philippines for 2 weeks, so I stopped by his place every other night to feed the cat and clean the shit out of her trough.

Celia is an old cat. Celia is not one of those rare, interesting cats that does entertaining cat-things. Celia is one of those cats that hates everyone that is not Abe. Celia has issues.

On the very last night of feeding her - the night before Abe was supposed to fly back in from Manila - I was putting food in Celia’s bowl and she hissed and scratched me.

That made me completely lose it. I chased the her around the apartment and into the closet and screamed in her face for 10 minutes. The effect was satisfying. Now I’m sure that Celia has more issues.

Cats are useless money pits. Why the hell would I spend the time and money feeding some cat just so I can watch it hide under the couch all day long?

* * *

Had dinner with my aunts for the first time in forever.
Thats my mom on the right (the oldest). Youngest sister in the middle, and middle sister on the left.

I dunno. I look at them and I can tell they’re sisters. Plus they all have the same scratchy chuckle when they’re trying not to laugh and they’re all very very anxious people.

Sometimes I have to be downright mean to my mom to get her to stop nagging the family. But she is an oldest child. Apparently the youngest one is the most anxious of them all. Very surprising.

My dad, while a bit of a monster when we were younger, has mellowed in his old age into his true self - a big-headed mongol that just doesn’t give a shit. I’m counting on his genes to defend me against my mother’s neuroses.

* * *

This might be a ghost.

I didn’t actually take this picture. This was taken by Kelly, the stage manager when I was doing American Monsters late last year.

Apparently the Burbank GTC theater, like many theaters, is haunted, and so is the playground in the park right outside of it. We went out there at the end of closing night and asked the ghosts to show themselves and took a bunch of pictures, including this one.

Sure, it’s not a full-bodied apparition or anything, but I still think it’s pretty cool.

People might ask me why I don’t believe in God, but I’m so willing to believe in ghosts. Well, for one, I don’t have any pictures of God.

* * *

(yawn)
That’s enough updates for now. G’nite.