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the spiders from Mars
Friday, 21 August 2009 09:09 amI do not believe that I just drove past a Daily Voice billboard imploring "CHICKEN! SAVE US FROM EVIL!" I must surely have misread it, as a result of having no brain. Not even the Daily Voice could be that weird. Screaming headlines about the dubious gender of the most recent World Record athlete notwithstanding.
The no brain is probably attributable to the rather disturbed night I had, on account of ongoing dreams that there was a spider on my headboard. A fat, fluffy spider rather like a pompom with legs. The size of my palm. Bright red.1 Glaring at me and shooting me at intervals with its zappy laser eyes. It is not conducive to rest to be continually wriggling somnambulistically to dodge arachnoid-oculo-laser bolts, or bumbling vaguely around the bedroom in search of something to squash it with. I feel a bit frayed.
In other weird news, I have been dragged, kicking and screaming, into the Century of the Fruitbat. I have a new cellphone, enabling me to discover that my touching belief in the poor cellphone reception in my office is in fact erroneous: it's perfectly fine with the new phone. Clearly the old phone was given to reluctance and dilettante fainting fits. The recent airtime fail caused me to grit my teeth and sign up for the cheapest possible contract, which still gives me twice as much airtime as I'll use, and a phone which can actually receive pictures, fancy-schmancy SMS formats and, possibly, radio waves from Mars. The era of blank SMS messages is over! It also has a camera, which I'll try out as soon as I work out which way to point it, and ring tones capable of soothing chimes rather than plangent beeping. I'm a bit scared of it, frankly.
The no brain is probably attributable to the rather disturbed night I had, on account of ongoing dreams that there was a spider on my headboard. A fat, fluffy spider rather like a pompom with legs. The size of my palm. Bright red.1 Glaring at me and shooting me at intervals with its zappy laser eyes. It is not conducive to rest to be continually wriggling somnambulistically to dodge arachnoid-oculo-laser bolts, or bumbling vaguely around the bedroom in search of something to squash it with. I feel a bit frayed.
In other weird news, I have been dragged, kicking and screaming, into the Century of the Fruitbat. I have a new cellphone, enabling me to discover that my touching belief in the poor cellphone reception in my office is in fact erroneous: it's perfectly fine with the new phone. Clearly the old phone was given to reluctance and dilettante fainting fits. The recent airtime fail caused me to grit my teeth and sign up for the cheapest possible contract, which still gives me twice as much airtime as I'll use, and a phone which can actually receive pictures, fancy-schmancy SMS formats and, possibly, radio waves from Mars. The era of blank SMS messages is over! It also has a camera, which I'll try out as soon as I work out which way to point it, and ring tones capable of soothing chimes rather than plangent beeping. I'm a bit scared of it, frankly.
1 In retrospect, I think it may have been a Chuzzle.
