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Obie Trice. Real Names. No Gimmicks.Hello.

Some Reports, Opinions, Thoughts mindless drivel.

I’m taking care of my friend’s spider. Its actually a tarantula, and requires little care. The tarantula’s name is Fluffy, and lives in a terrarium. Fluffy is likely a she (according to John P., my friend), but he is not completely sure. This is because sexing this animal requires picking up Fluffy and turning s/he upside down and taking a close look. Fluffy, while (mostly) docile, doesn’t like this much, and would be apt to shoot his/her spiny hairs at him, or just try to bite. But, John says that judging by the size of the abdomen (or is it a thorax?), he is most likely a she. Despite this, I still refer to Fluffy in the first-person masculine singular. or 1ms, as i once denoted in my latin classes.

Fluffy eats crickets. The crickets are loud. Until they are eaten.

I took care of Fluffy over the Christmas season while John visited his family in my/our hometown. I was rather scared of Fluffy then. He re-assured me over the email though that Fluffy cares little of me. “Look here, MitchellIrons, think of Fluffy like a hamster,” he says. “He’s small and furry, and can be held in the palm of your hand if you like to.” I did not care to think of Fluffy like a hamster though.

One of the cats is asleep on the tupperware box covering the terrarium. They are oblivious to Fluffy’s presence.

Fluffy does manage to do some rather freaky things, though. There are the times when he goes for a walk in his little world of of woodchips, and ends up walking on the wire-mesh top. He is apt to catch his pincers in the mesh, and find himself stuck there. I woke up one morning stuck there, hanging from the mesh. His two hind (??) legs were caught in the mesh, and he was just hanging back, trying to wiggle his way out. A little like this:

| * |

Fluffy was looking very much like a super-big black widow spider then. I didn’t like it much, and slept in a different room for the following three nights.

Fluffy is boarding with us for the fortnight. John P. is an officer on the HMCS Toronto, and sailed out yesterday to do some “naval exercises” of the coast of Norfolk, VA. John P. has just passed the tests for submariners’ clearance, so when he returns to The Fax, he will pick up Fluffy and then head off to Rimouski for a couple months’ training. Even though our submarines cannot sail, I’m still proud of him, and am rather envious of his exciting life. (Except for the guns and terrorists and enemies and political rhetoric, of course.)

Work news: Work is dull and uneventful.

World news: The Americans claim the UN Security Council is destroying what legitimacy it had in the world by not voting for war. I counter that GWB, John Ashcroft, Dick Cheney and The Liar (Donald Rumsfeld. But my mom refers to him only as The Liar. I like it.) are destroying the legitimacy of the UN Security Council. You say tomato, I say tomatoe, let’s call the whole thing off. No, Let’s not. Hey Homeland Security Secretary Tom Ridge, Let me confirm for you that I really do have a hate-on for the USA. You can re-open my file if you like now.

I’m a socialist. More or less. (Oops, another red flag for my file.)

My plants are dying. The cats don’t like the crown of thorns. (They must be agents of The State.) Big Tomcat knocked it over and cracked the pot in two. Little Stupid Thing brushed up against the stalk and snapped it in two. I intend to break out the grow light for some serious intensive care, but still fear the worst.

I’m reading Harry Potter for the first time ever. Its nice kids’ stuff, but prefer C.S. Lewis.

I’ve been to Hollywood, I’ve been to Redwood. I’ve crossed the ocean for a heart of gold.



Written by mitchellirons

March 18, 2003 at 6:36 pm

Posted in 499869

Tagged with ,

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