Had such a great weekend this weekend. Went to my friend's (Ken and Kate) wedding in Bennington VT, and it was such a great time. Just about all of my best friends from school were there, and a grand time was had by all. Top off a seldomly-occuring reunion with the fact that one of those friends got married to a great girl, and you have a weekend which goes down in the annals of great weekends in one's life. (NB: This recently married couple are actually the original voice of the Dogfish, and so should have a place close to the hearts of all alltooflat readers.

So a big congrats to the newlyweds. And by congrats, I mean "huge." And by "huge" I mean "so huge"


But on to more pertinent matters. Wait, do I have any pertinent matters to attend to? Not really. Well, I could talk about my spider problems. I have some serious spider problems these days. It's kind of funny that I left one apartment with a centipede problem to move into a house with spider issues. At least the centipede and I got along - I left him alone, and he left me alone (more or less: I think it still has my copy of Whale's "We Care." But I like "Disco Dance" better anyway). But the spiders have developed something of a taste for my flesh, and it's sort of disturbing. In fact, the undersides of my forearms have been bitten more than a nymphomaniacs pillow (only the undersides: the topsides are pretty hairy. I always imagine that spiders who find themselves in my arm hair fell like hobbits in the Mirkwood). Between the spider bites and the (nearly-healed) hornet stings, I'm so marked up with welts that I look like a smack junkie. The arm scratching doesn't help.

I think the main problem is that there is a distinct lack of any sort of natural predator for spiders in my room. For most pests (rats, ants, members of the religious right), I would take up that role, dispensing the requisite stomping and/or polite request to leave my room. But I have a thing about spiders. Don't get me wrong, I'm no wimp - I've faced down barking barracuda and circling bull sharks in a hundred feet of water, and have recently dealt with a attack from a swarm of hornets with only a minimal amount of screaming like a little girl. But I have this theory about spiders:

I believe that spiders are a completely alien form of life, a branch of evolution that had a different starting point than the rest of the creatures on our Earth. I'm not positive how it got here (I suspect some stray strands of DNA were carried by a meteorite, but I'm not sure), but I do know that they are not supposed to be here. On some level deep in our psyche, some of us recognize this fact and are physically repulsed by these execrations. In fact, I'll go one step further and state that those of us who have trouble dealing with spiders have this "problem" because we are more in tune with the world, and are reacting to a serious ripple in the harmony of the planet.

I suppose it's possible that I'm just a big pansy, but I don't think that's it.


So, there you go. I'm trying (in vain) to get in touch with the fellow that I'm supposed to move in with, but he isn't obsessive about checking and responding to email like I am. It's a little frustrating, but nothing can be done about it. It isn't even the ides of August, so I'm not yet concerned; but we should definitely be looking at places this week, or it's going to be another month on the island. And while my bank account would be happier for it (what with not paying rent and all), it's definitely not worth the embarrassment of having to say "Yeah, I moved back home a few months ago" to old friends of mine from high school (who I see constantly).

That's all. Oh, wanted to invite you all to a party at The Continental this weekend, but I'll do that later this week. As my friend The Crisco Bandit says, "Keep it greasy."