Site
 Meter

. .
. . just fucking charming .
. Excuse me while I try to connect some dots: After removing a box of croutons from my cupboard, seemingly hoping to find a magical stash of chocolate behind it, I instead found a shitload of corn kernels. After moving more boxes around, I found that the back of the cupboard was nothing more than a mess of corn. This naturally led me to believe that I have a problem with mice. However, there are a couple of problems with this assumption: 1) Said corn is not mine. The only corn put in the cupboard by yours truly is a box of microwave popcorn which, after close inspection, proved to be totally undisturbed save for the one bag that Zane and I shared a couple of weeks ago. This leads us to problem 2) which is that none of the rest of my food, including an open bag of Fritos, has been disturbed at all. And in looking for further evidence of a mouse, I came across problem 3) which is characterized by the distict lack of mouse poo which one would expect to find in such an endless mouse buffet of junk food. In addition to this, I would like to bring up problem 4) which is that I am a dirty girl, despite my best attempts to hide this fact, and am likely to leave uneaten food sitting on my counter for a day or two prior to cleaning it up at all. Said nastiness has also remained undisturbed. But the biggest puzzler of all is 5), the great question of how the hell a mouse would get into my cupboard in the first place. Not only is the cupboard in question mounted to the ceiling (rather than being close to the floor) but I looked that bitch up and down and there aren't any little holes that might lead a small rodent to travel from one cupboard to the next or even from the ceiling to the cupboard. So what I'd like to know is: where the hell did all this fucking corn come from?

I still haven't cleaned the shit up. Instead, I am simply paranoid (about what, I'm not sure-- a tiny rodent doesn't pose much threat to my survival, lest it's carrying the plague which would certainly put a damper on my life plans). So when ever Zane has those moments where he suddenly perks up and focuses on some seemingly absent disturbance across the room, I now perk up too and send my attention right where his is. Thus far, we haven't seen anything of consequence yet.

I'm already mentally preparing myself to quelch any screams that I might be prone to emitting upon sight of such a nasty little creature of filth.

Hey-- I'm no PETA member. So not only do I not have any respect for this little mouse, if it even exists, but I also don't care if the thing dies an unmerciful death (brought about, of course, by me).

Speaking of cruelty towards animals, or whatever you dirty hippies want to call it, my mom was telling me tonight at dinner that her neighbor decided to solve her ant problems by dumping half a gallon of bleach down the little ant hill near her front door. Mmmmm, don't you love the smell of burning ant flesh in the morning?

This whole situation also brings to mind a very clear memory of a time when I was five years old and we were having a little mouse problem. I was upstairs in my bedroom on a Saturady afternoon innocently coloring, as kindergarteners are prone to do, when my dad called me down to the basement. And when I got to the top of the basement stairs, there was my father facing me with a pair of pliars in his hand, and dangling from the pliars by the tail was a very dead little mouse. With pride, my dad said, "Look, baby. We got 'em. Don't be scared." Slightly traumatic for a wussy young child as myself? I should think so.

On an unrelated note, I would like to bring up the fact, once again, that most of the hits to my page are from the Porn Fiends United Brigade. To which I simply have to say: Get a goddamn hobby and cool it with your manic search for all things "fucking." Particularly when it involves children, assholes.

last - next

.