Random thing #42 that Ramona will eat: Imitation Crab

About a week ago I was up around 6 am (my sleep schedule is bordering on the wacky as of late) and saw a huge bug skitter across my livingroom floor. Huuuuuuuuge. And moving at a high rate of speed.

It disappeared before I could throw something at it, so I decided I would attempt to flush it out of whatever hiding place it had co-opted.

So here's me at 6 am standing on top of a desk chair, randomly shaking/flailing at pieces of furniture, peering at the floor trying to spy any movement. If I have any nosy neighbors I'm sure they have long since decided I'm batshit insane.

Anyway, my well-thought out technique having failed, I have been wearing shoes around my apartment ever since, out of fear that some steroid-enhanced millipede will attack my foot. I don't have many bugs in my apartment but when they do show up I do not react well.

Fast forward to today: I pulled back my shower curtain all ready to hop into the shower and BAM! There it was, just staring at me. Ack!

So I ran into my room, grabbed the largest and most dispensable book I could find (How to Start a Small Business in Minnesota, for those that care to know) and scurried back into the bathroom. Too much of a scaredy-cat to actually get in there and smack the giant, I hefted the book at it, which succeeded in winging it and ripping off a bunch of legs.

So now I had a moving body and like ten decapitated sections of bug legs all skittering around my tub. Wonderful. But this time there was no going back, so I snatched the book out of the tub and proceeded to beat the hell out of the thing.

Not satisfied with that (it was still moving) I turned on the water full blast and drowned the thing which eventually gt washed down the drain.

And yet my relief was short lived, as I had this vision of it crawling back up the drain and into the tub again. Or worse! Finding the pipe for the sink. So I turned on those taps as well, and then—for good measure—the kitchen sink. I let them run for a few minutes before finally turning them off and then checking every little bit to make sure it hadn't crawled back up again.

And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is how to thoroughly and definitively overact to one small bug.

I'm in the middle of a design/build right now and, as such, not much for words. Or rants, as it were. But some notes from the planet:

1. I am up rather early this morning. The reason? Yesterday I decided to try a different technique with the site I'm building. Never having used it before there was a bit of a learning curve, so I went to bed with a few tweaks still remaining. And proceeded to dream about them all night. Which happens when I get something stuck in my head. 

So I got up around 4 am, trudged out to my computer and fixed the remaining problems and proceeded to pull a few other intuitive leaps of logic out of nowhere.

Which is proof that I am still occasionally brilliant.

2. (and I hope I'll be forgiven for talking about her) I have now chatted with Vancouver Planet Claire. Whose emails, as you may recall, I was receiving. And this comes only a week after I corresponded with another Planet Claire. How awesome is that? And now I don't have to feel guilty about getting emails meant for her anymore. I think we should start some sort of Guild or (as Vancouver Planet Claire suggested) a League of Super Heroes.

3. I'm going to a networking thing tonight in Uptown. Which is awesome, except for the fact that I suck at them. I'm just not a very naturally outgoing person. So I fear that I'll spend the whole thing hiding at a corner table. Or under a corner table.

Ah... not fair. I liked Tim Russert.

Who, incidentally, showed up briefly on Homicide years ago as Megan Russert's cousin.

You know, I don't often condone violence.

At least not unless it's funny.

But tonight I was watching Bush's War on Frontline and I got the overwhelming urge to stomp on the current administration's foot. Not too hard. Just hard enough for an "Ow! What'd you do that for?"

Oh I think you know what you did.

I can't believe this little planet is eight years old today.

I actually registered it about a year or so after I graduated from college because I didn't want to have a work address used for personal correspondence (see the cautionary tale Things Not to Do With Your Work Email), but I also knew my school email address would expire in a few months. Do they still do that? If you graduate does your email address eventually disappear? Or are they less strict in this day and age?

So I grabbed this domain (the .com was taken). Strangely enough, at the time I registered it there weren't many planet claires out there. Now you do a search and they're everywhere.

I won't swear to it, but I think at the time my partner-in-crime was listening to a lot of B-52s and I decided to go with the name based on that. But I might be totally wrong. Eight years is a long damn time ago.

So there. Happy Birthday to Planet Claire. I'm off to go put birthday hats on Norman and Ramona.

Holy crap. You know I never even realized that Ramona is an anagram of Norman (give or take an A). And I named neither of them. How weird is that? Both that I utterly failed to notice it sooner and that it was a complete randomstance.

I'm a little spooked.

More and more often these days, as it gets dark out, little black shapes... or bugs, or some other unearthly forms have started flitting around my apartment, just out of my field of vision. I know they're there! But when I turn to catch them they're suddenly gone! I'm starting to go crazy because I just can't catch them. And they're skulking in the corners of my apartment, mocking me constantly. I'm starting to sleep with all the lights on, if I sleep at all.

Actually, I just really need to replace my contacts and/or clean them better every night. Or at the very least not sleep with them in.

In unrelated news, it is Birthday Week at Planet Claire. I'm not throwing a party (as my mom sarcastically suggested) but I am updating some spots around here that have been languishing in obscurity. And I found some previous index pages from the site. Some of my old slogans:

"Yet another entirely pointless website in a sea of entirely pointless sites lurking online" (the very first)

"The logical alternative to a bowflex infomercial" (christened by a long-absent early rant reader)

"A web site that illustrates my huge need for validation" (I added the "may or may not" a little later)

although "In Retrograde since 2000" is currently the only one appearing on t-shirts.

So I am attempting to post by sending an email. We'll see how far that goes.

Anyway. Happy Memorial Day Weekend. I am spending my time split between working and family stuff (out-of-town-family stuff). However I'm not having much luck so far.

First, I went out to see what was available for FireWire drives for a client of mine who needs one and the only successful part of that mission netted me underwear.

For some reason this has happened more than once: go shopping for computer stuff, come home with underwear. It's quite odd, really.

Then I came home and tried to work but was so sleepy I took a nap instead. Ramona joined me, of course. Because for a cat, any time is a good time to nap really.

So now I'm up again and writing this instead of working. I'll eventually get something done.

A few tidbits:

1. I was in line at the store and this woman in front of me (actually she was maybe 22) had this box with her that she had apparently received in the mail. I was about to go find another place to pay for my goods because that box signals all sorts of lengthy explanations, discussions and calls to managers. But I stayed put.

Turns out, the woman had bought a pair of Crocs (Dumbest. Shoes. Ever.) and wanted to return them. Which wasn't a big deal until I eavesdropped enough to realize that she had bought them from the Crocs online store and was trying to return them at Macy's.

On what planet does that make any damn sense? Certainly not mine. Because most companies aren't going to say "What? You spent actual money someplace else and now want to give us what you bought from them and get money from us? Sure! How about a complimentary pedicure while you wait?"

The crazier thing was that the salesperson wasn't sure what to do and did have to call a manager to check if she could take back the shoes. Further proof of my theory that most people working in retail are taught not to think for themselves.

2. I was in the car with some relatives a few weeks ago--consisting of my mom, my aunt and uncle, and two younger cousins (aged 5 and 11). We were discussing where to go for lunch. The five year old thought KFC would be a good idea (since they got it as a treat sometimes when they were on vacation). The eleven year old, testing his boundaries and parents' patience, suggested we go to Hooters.

His dad chimed in first, and said that they wouldn't be going to Hooters anytime soon and that if he was trying to be funny it certainly wasn't the appropriate place for it (what with us in the car). His mother was just dead silent, and I couldn't tell if she was really angry about this stunt or embarrassed or both.

After a few moments of awkward silence, she turned to her son, smiled and said, "Let's compromise on this, honey. We'll go to KFC for lunch. And every ten minutes or so I'll lift up my top."