notes from a man who spends too much time playing video games
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This is where you stick random tidbits of information about yourself.
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A Few Points Shy of the High Score
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Wednesday, June 16, 2004
I repotted a plant early this morning while the temperatures were still low. The weather in New York turned warm yesterday, so any physical activity, like the repotting of plants, must be done very early in the morning. After 11 a.m., nothing gets accomplished.
The plant is this prehistoric-looking fern that I bought at the deli for 20 dollars. I bought it because I'm trying to class up my apartment a little. I've decided to sell, to put my apartment on the market, and I figured that a big fern is an inexpensive way to make the place look better.
I went upstate to Joelle's last weekend. She rents the small coach house out behind a doctor's much larger house. It's positioned on the edge of a section of swamp land, which means that not only are the bugs great in number, they can also sometimes grow to extremely large sizes. When I arrived last weekend, there was a dark smudge on the kitchen linoleum, near the stove. I asked her what had happened. She sighed in a tired way. Then she said, "It was a spider. With a big belly. I killed it, but I just couldn't deal with cleaning up the mess."
Whenever I visit, I'm deputized as the bug killer of the house. I don't like bugs any more than Joelle does. In fact, I'm probably a bigger arachnaphobe than she is, yet because of my gender, I'm the one who must kill things. Joelle always jokes that she promises one sexual favor per bug killed.
Early Sunday morning while drinking my coffee, I came upon a small spider on the kitchen wall. I promptly went to the bathroom, got a few squares of toilet paper, killed the spider, then told Joelle of my deed. "Well, what size was it?" she asked.
"It was pretty small."
"How small?"
"About the size of a pea," I said.
"That's probably worth a brief blowjob," she said.
Later, I found a wasps' nest in the eaves outside her door. I pointed it out to her. "It's empty," she said.
I asked her what she meant by "empty."
"No wasps live there."
I checked it out. She was right--empty. I got a rake and used the tines to try and knock it loose. "Boy, this sucker is really on there," I said, trying to bring it down.
"They use their saliva to make those little honeycombs," she said. Joelle knows about nature things.
Finally, I brought the nest down. "One wasps' nest," I said. "What's that worth?"
"It was empty."
"So?"
"So it posed no real threat."
I started chasing her around the yard, swinging the tines of the rake at her in a playful way. Joelle laughed, and after a few minutes of chasing, she shouted, "Alright, alright, for an empty wasps' nest, I'll make out with you for two minutes."
"Final offer?"
"Final offer," she said.
"Alright, I'll take it," I said.
8:51 AM
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