September 30, 2002
12:03pm Monday

CURIOUS WHITE BOY

Yesterday was Gray's and my second wedding anniversary. Dang, time flies. We got hitched at Descanso Gardens in La Canada at five in the afternoon on a Friday in front of 105 friendly faces. A Friday because it was the year 2000 and everyone and his brother wanted to get married in 2000, presumably so the math wouldn't be too hard when calculating wedding anniversaries, and so every Saturday for the whole year was booked. I think everyone was just as happy to take the day off from work. We did them a favor.

Some American greenbacks came in the mail on Friday from parents and grandparents (Gray still has both sets of alive grandparents!) with notes saying "Go out to dinner and celebrate." But we, clever cheap bastards that we are, went to the local Do It Center and bought a barbecue and then to the supermarket for fancy expensive foods and had ourselves a regular feast for the same amount we would've spent at Stuart Anderson's Black Angus. And see, we still have the barbecue to show for it. This frugality makes me fear that even if I have a million dollars in my pocket one day I'll still use each teabag twice.

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On the way to the Do It Center we saw this:

If you look really carefully at the back of the bus, to the left of the Will & Grace ad there, you might see something sticking out of the bus that looks like a 2x4. Then you might see that guy in the white t-shirt walking who looks like he wants to kill whoever's taking this photograph (Gray). And you might see the nose of his white truck there, but what you can't see are the 2x4 shelving units leaning out the right side of that same white truck, with the one shelf conspicuously missing its right 2x4 leg because it's embedded in the back of the bus. I hope no one was standing up inside during the Burbank-North Hollywood connection with his head mashed against the back, or he's got a 2x4 through it now.

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When we pulled into the driveway at home with the barbecue and the groceries, I got out and Gray got out. I popped the trunk and looked back at him starting to unload, and saw something evil. I yelled, 'OH MY GOD!' and pointed. He looked down the driveway, across the street, said back 'What? What?' I pointed more and he kept walking towards where he was walking, but I couldn't find the words. 'OH MY GOD, STOP, THAT!' And he stopped. And followed my finger to above the trunk. And a spider the side of a mouse was spinning a web an inch from his forehead.

That CD's for reference. The spider's two inches to the left of it. As I stared mesmerized at its mammothness I was lectured on the importance of "identifying" the object one is screaming about. To avoid future near-misses, you see. It's understandable.

If you're arachnophobic, I apologize. That'd give anybody nightmare fodder for a solid year.

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This is Gray's idea of a good time:

Taking a picture of a maybe-celebrity in a Hummer to make him think he's being paparazzi-stalked. If he was REALLY a celebrity he'd have his El Salvadorean maid pick up the shop-vac for him.

I have to go spray some Raid now.