Bugs

I hate bugs. I really hate bugs. And I'm scared of bugs. And I don't think this is unreasonable.

When I was young, when I saw a big bug, I'd get my mother and tell her to kill it. She'd have that face on like, "I can't believe this is my son." But I make no apologies. Think about it--

People are scared of monsters. And bugs are tiny monsters. Picture a person-sized fly or a person-sized beetle. That's a blatant monster, right? So why does being a tiny monster let bugs off the hook? They're still a monster.

Bugs are little monsters that fly. How scary is that?? And not only do they fly, but they fly towards people. And land on people. And then they BITE you.

People are scared of mice. Why? I don't get it. They're little and furry and cute. When's the last time you were bitten by a mouse? Now, if mice looked terrifying instead of cute, and instead of darting around trying to avoid humans at all costs, they flew through the air and landed on people and then BIT people after landing on them-- well, then I'd hate mice. And I'd be very, very afraid of mice.

But that's not the case. Mice don't do that. Only bugs do that.

People are scared of snakes. Why? It makes no sense. They're sleek and handsome and they want nothing to do with people either. They only bite when you scare the shit out of them. And they don't fly.

Christ, I heard a fact one time that the average person has eight spiders a year crawl in their mouths while they're asleep. What the hell? Why is anyone okay with that? If mice tried to crawl in my mouth when I was sleeping every month in a half, you can damn well bet I'd hate mice.

You're undoubtedly thinking, "Why is this dude freaking out right now?"

Well, I have two explanations: I'm exhausted. And I'm going to the Amazon tomorrow.

I knew for awhile that I was gonna go somewhere this summer, but only recently did I stare at the world map for awhile and try to figure out where. It's not that long a trip so I decided to keep it in the Western Hemisphere. I had never been to South America, so I walked up a foot away from the map in front of South America and looked at it for awhile. It's a pretty silly-shaped continent. Anyway, I decided to keep to the north because it's winter down there, and finally settled on the Amazon. It's a river and a jungle, I explained to myself.

So I bought tickets and got all excited, and then one day a couple weeks ago, I remembered something--

There are incredibly large bugs in the Amazon. And they have malaria.

Let's talk about this for a second. Not only are there flying monsters in the Amazon-- but these flying monsters are bigger than the flying monsters I'm used to, they look scarier, and they all have a contagious disease. And not only are they large, contagious, flying monsters, but they're large, contagious, flying monsters whose objective it is to bite me and suck my blood.

Forgive me for buying a mosquito net.

Anyway, on a related but immensely hilarious note, I could watch this drastic change in demeanor and accent 750 times and it wouldn't stop being funny.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-dHl0c9S98

Haircuts, etc.

With every passing day, I'm becoming increasingly self-loathing every time I look in the mirror. This is normal. It all starts at the barber shop.

I get a haircut every month or so. My barber is an awesome old Italian dude I've been going to for the last three years. He's an extremely mediocre barber. About 60% of the time he gives me a competent, normal haircut. The other 40% of the time he gives me a retarded, bad haircut. And I never know which one it was until I go home and shower.

When it's a normal, good haircut, my next week is excellent. Every time I look in the mirror I'm reminded that my head is small and satisfying-looking. The second week is also good. Not a dream like the first week but my self-esteem is still at a healthy level. The third week is when things begin to deteriorate. By the fourth week, my head is large, hideous, and every glance at the mirror is like a hammer pounding my self-esteem Earthward. There will be times in a Week 4 when I'm having a good day. The sun's out, life is good, and I'm feeling alright about myself. But inevitably, I head to the bathroom at some point, and the mirror shatters my sense of self-worth. Yes, by the fourth week, things have gotten ugly.

That's the best-case scenario. The other 40% of the time, my barber shits the bed. Those bring on a tough month. The first week is worse than any of the previously-mentioned ones. I usually just avoid the bathroom altogether. This situation actually improves in the second and third week as the hair growth begins to conceal the retardedness. By the fourth week, we're back to where we always are in the fourth week.

And yet, when Frank Lombardi ("Frankie Suits") once told me he gets a haircut once a week, I mocked him. Because who the hell gets a haircut once a week?

Anyway, let's move on. A few other things-

-I recently saw Wall-e. Pretty thrilling. I love Pixar.

-I also saw Mongol. Which is apparently not a very well-known movie, since every time I ask anyone if they've seen Mongol, they have no idea what I'm talking about. In any case, I was disappointed. I read the book Genghis Khan a year ago. The author, Jack Weatherford, had done a ridiculous amount of research and his book is one of the most historically accurate accounts of Genghis Khan's life ever written. I found it absolutely riveting.

So I was irritated to see that the movie added fabricated story lines and drama-- when the truth is already an epic Hollywood script.

-The three-part Discovery Channel series "When We Left Earth," about American space travel from the late '50s to the present, is delectable and fascinating. '60s astronauts were ridiculously cool. I wish I had grown up in that era, instead of in this stupid generation when no one gives a crap about space travel. I desperately want to go to the moon. One day.

-I got the new iPhone today. Yet again, I find deep, fulfilling happiness by means of a computer company.

-There was a new JonBenet Ramsey headline the other day. The U.S. Census reports that there are roughly 15 - 20,000 murder victims every year, about 500 of which are kids under eight years old. And we've been talking about this one nonstop for 12 years. I don't get it.