Celebrities and a Classy Lady

I am about to share with you all the times I thought I saw celebrities.

I don't know what it is, but my hometown is apparently just CRAWLING with them. They must be drawn in by the smell of our sugar beat factory or the confusing streets...

I know for a fact that I would not be good at talking to a celebrity in real life because I once almost fainted at a midnight release of the book "Mockingjay" when a cart of brand new books was rolled past me. Books can't even talk. Get me in front of a walking, talking celebrity and I'm likely to pull my face out through my bellybutton. This is why it's better for me to just observe from afar while tweeting of their supreme presence. None of these posts are even delusional AT ALL.

9.7.11 - Ryan Gosling is in the car next to me but don't worry, I'm handling like a real lady.

9.28.11 - Heath Ledger has been lying to us all along. He's very much alive. That, or I just saw the best-looking hobo of my life.

10.7.11 - Justin Bieber has come into the library twice. Each time wearing the same purple American Apparel hoodie and texting all his celeb BFF's. Probably that Gomez chick.

11.10.11

- So I just worked out a mere 10 feet away from a bandana-wearing George Clooney. News flash: the man has chicken legs.

12.6.11 - Richard Dreyfuss texting all up in this joint with his ear flaps.

Spiders and a Classy Lady

I had a moment of personal growth this morning.

I work in a library where my job is primarily to put books away. (Let me tell you, I know the alphabet like mad-hot BEAST now. And I'm more familiar with the dewey decimal system than I am with my grandparents. I can basically hold a million books at once. No joke.

(Me as a mad-hot, book-bearing beast.)

This morning I had a cart full of adult-nonfiction books that I was alphabetizing before putting on the shelves. I was in an isolated corner of the library hidden behind tall shelves where nobody ventures so I had the place to myself. Or so I thought.

I looked up from my row of books. There he was. Watching me as I was watching him. A mere 12 inches from my face was the furziest, puffiest, largest jumping spider I had ever seen.

I was frozen. He was frozen. I moved. He moved. We starred deeply into each other's eyes. (It took me a longer time to stare deeply because he had more eyes to stare deeply INTO.) It's like we were in sync. Instead of the deafening dread I normally feel when seeing an arachnid, I felt , dare I say, curious? Peaceful? Empathetic? Just as he was the fluffiest spider I had ever seen, perhaps I was the fluffiest human he had ever seen.

I slowly sank to my knees and hid behind my cart of books. Yes, I had felt a connection to that sucker, but he was still a spider. And yes, while I have more height than him, he has more legs than me and there it just no getting around that.

Periodically, I would shove a row of books apart to sneak a peak at the overly-appendedged guy just to find him watching me right back. (I suppose it would pretty hard not to see me, I mean, when you have 8 eyes, you may as well use at least one of them to keep tabs on the bumbling 5' 7'' beast in front of you.)

(Of course this is what I look like to arachnids.)

Eventually he crept across a couple books and hid behind the shelf against the wall. Because I know the general public has a burning hatred or at least a discomfort for arachnids, I'll advise you not to choose a book written by an author with the last name of "Swierczynski" in the library where I work.

All that aside, I felt as though I made a special connection with the little guy. I returned to that corner periodically throughout the day for various reasons, but every time, looked out for him. I don't know where he went, but I wish him well.

And then I went home to find a nasty spider chillin' in my tub. So I drowned the life outta him with scalding hot water. Things with more than 2 arms/legs ought not be hanging out where I do not wear clothes.

Several of you know this, but my sister does nearly all the drawings for my blog. In preparation for this entry, she and I were chatting over Facebook about what she should draw. She wanted to know what one of my book carts looks like. Since I couldn't explain it to her well, I drew it out in Paint and then sent it her way; and this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I do not illustrate my own blogs.

Personally, I see no difference...