kiffie

Got a short video of Bob, eating. Well, catching, really. He saw the camera and refused to do his food dance. I will get it on film, someday -- if I believe...!

( Giant spider video here. )

There's nothing more hilarious than waking up to Bob, one toe stuck in the mesh, trying to look nonchalant.

Kiffies: You, uh, need some help there, champ?

Bob: No. *wiggle* Am fine. *wiggle wiggle*

Kiffie: Uh-huh.

Bob: Just off for stroll. Make walkings. *wiggle kick*

Kiffie: ...sideways?

Bob: Felt like change!

Kiffies: Right. *grab a paperclip, begin Bob-freeing efforts*

His reaction to having his bum touching dirt, again, was pretty much: "Sigh. Well, back to my hole." He brushed himself off and made straight for his burrow (read: small indentation in the dirt) in the typical mosey of all tarantulas. His arm looks stiff, but I don't think he was seriously hurt. Though, I do hope he learned not to climb up there next time.

When I was home, I witnessed the single stupidest act of pet dumbassery, ever.

And, to my surprise, it came from Bob. I would have pegged Squeeky of the many vet bills, or even Mousie, who did manage to dye herself purple once. But no. Bob.

Bob was taking his evening stroll, as he always does. I was packing my bags next to his tank. I guess he got curious and decided to come "see" me by climbing the side of the tank and pressing his face against the glass. So I'm face to face with fluff and toes and I giggle, because Bob looks absolutely ridiculous when he's hanging from the wall. Perhaps this offended him. Perhaps he simply decided to show off since he had my attention. I do not know. But all of a sudden, I am watching a 3-inch spider do a perfect little dive into an inch of water.

Yes. A tarantula made a high-dive into his water dish.

He sat there for a moment, wiggled a toe to make sure there was still water, stood, shook off (as best a spider can), and wandered away to continue his walk as if nothing had happened.

If he had been off by even a centimeter, I would have been cleaning him out of the peat moss.

I have the dumbest pets. (._.)

On Bob:

My mom was able to dig the mushroom out without boxing Bob. I'm not quite sure how she did it, but I think it involved bribery.

At last check, he was sleeping, toes over eyes, next to a water bottle full of ice and looking very comfortable in the 110 degree weather.

On Jeeves:

Somehow, my dad managed to burn out Jeeves' starter.

Popping the clutch on a sedan is hard and probably going to end in some sort of hernia.

Jeeves'll probably get towed later in the week.

Maybe edbeens will know of something, but all help is welcome.

I've been trying to find a skull for Bob to live hide in.

Preferably human. Hollow, of course. And either with a hole big enough in the back to allow him in, or made of something I can easily cut-away. Ceramic, I guess. Realism is a big plus, but a goofy-looking skull won't be turned down if it has the right dimensions.

I've looked at PetsMart and a local fish supply store, but have come up empty. I did find a nice large cat skull with ample interior space, but the eyeholes seemed to be asking for a spider bum to get stuck in them.

Yes, I totally just want it so I can say, "Get back in your skull, Bob."

I bought the kitties their Christmas present today, and let them have it early -- a bag of Royal Canin cat food. Mousie got addicted to the stuff when Squeeky was a kitten, but couldn't really eat it because it was, after all, kitten-sized foodbits. So I got a bag of regular-sized kibble. I think Mousie inhaled the plate I gave her.

I'm now torn between getting the newsboy hat (I finally decided that I could wear the newsboy hat daily, whereas a fedora would only be practical in the rain), or saving up my moneys for a beginner violin. Yes, let's all gape at the kiffies for a moment. Kiffies, who still haven't quite gotten Khan down to a science, wants to take up another instrument. Let's all stare at the dumb. Though, to be fair, I did play violin for two years in elementary, and I did enjoy it, though I had a habit of over-rosining the bow and forming a nice cloud of powder around me as I played. :3

I cleaned out Daniel's tank using my leet ninja skills. Actually, a leather workglove that he couldn't bite though, and that I held him against the tank with while I scrubbed his wheel off. He cried. Loudly. I wasn't hurting him, he was just pissed that he couldn't move. Damned mouse's cries are almost more pathetic than a kitten's. I eventually let him go and worked around him.

I'm going to go see Hissy tomorrow afternoon. I got her gift, though I didn't wrap it. It does have a bow. 'Selected Works of Edgar Alan Poe'. We'll see how she likes it. And I think we're going to be watching part of the Voyager marathon together. But I'm not staying for all of it that day. I did the all-day TNG thing at school and wound up catatonic on the common room couch.

Bob ate today and did an awesome food dance that involved many feet. Some spiders really get their bums into it. Bob likes tapping all of his toes, in sequence, against the same bit of dirt. It's hilarious. I would have stayed and watched, but I had to eat dinner, myself.

I realized today, as I loaded up IE and, as usual, was greeted with Alba's LJ icon (it's the first thing I see on the page), that I mentally had said, "Oh, look! A Q!" At which point, my mind went blank -- "Which Q? There are many, sir!" And then there was a scary and wrong mental image involving the Question being a part of the Q Continuum and THEY ALL WORE SANTA HATS. Now there's something that would give both Maxwell Lord AND Jean-Luc Picard aneurysms at the same time. :D