Babies for Chocolate
I have b/c weary of my own musings, so this may be my last blog for awhile. All 1.4 of you, weep!
There are STILL mice dying in my brother's basement, for those one of you following the mouse saga. The exterminator, a friendly if a bit too chatty man from the midwest, ostensibly bagged all of the mice and put out a bunch of traps. However, I heard squeaking earlier and lo and behold, a poor mouse was staggering around looking like he'd had himself one helluva bender.
I tired of watching his or her suffering, so tried to coax the tiny thing onto my shovel. No dice. I was forced to leave it there to die slowly. Which makes me feel like a baby killer, or something (the mouse, is, in fact, a baby). I did, however, give the lucky exterminator man (who is selling his house, for those of you who want a ranch house near a pond !) my brownies, which are healthy. So far as brownies go, as I used whole wheat flour and 1/2 cup of sugar only.
Today has been another day from slow hell, but that's OK, there's always tomorrow, Scarlett O'Hara. GWTW is one book I never finished. It was too southern for me (yes, you may point your righteous guns of wrath at me, but I'm just being a truthful Yankee gal), and frankly too boring. I mean, Rhett and Scarlett, Scarlett and Rhett, like, who cares, people! Now I'll get comments, I'm sure!
The doorbell rang when I was in the middle of my impromptu Alanis Morrisette concert and I was greeted by an aggressive woman from some sort of National Health Survey Thingie who wanted to try and interview my absent brother and wife. I explained I couldn't speak for them, she wanted to know where they were, like she's a fed or something, and finally I got rid of her. Is there any such thing as being left in peace anymore? Now I expect the next interruption to be the Man Who Will Fix My Brother's Garage, but apparently he has a key, which is great, b/c frankly I don't do well with strangers. Hell, I don't do well with you if I've known you for ten years, but I do try. Call it the case of the Skittish Introvert, and yes, Capitals Are Fun!
I tried to watch Sin City (these are the useless things I've done today, in case you were wondering!), but it was so gratuitously violent right off the bat that I decided to pass. I'm not a Quentin Tarantino fan, and he seems kinda scary in interviews, like he's REALLY ANGRY. I spent years REALLY ANGRY, and now I'm just SOMETIMES ANGRY, but kept in check by the laws of nature, Catholicism, and punching bags. Well, I hope to be, anyway, I'd love a punching bag.
I read more about TomKat's Scientology Baby. Personally I do not plan to procreate. I have wonderful friends with a new baby, and I enjoyed her in the way you're supposed to with babies, but my maternal instincts must have died a couple years back. I had more in my twenties. Now the juice is gone (that sounds mildly obscene, but really, I'm just being quaint). I was referring to holding and rocking the baby, incidentally, not offering it up to satan a la Rosemary's Baby. Just in case you were wondering!
I am happy the exterminator man was happy to receive my brownies. Midwesterners I've met are all really nice and friendly. People where I live are not really nice and friendly, although they can be after you've known them for a year or so. It's the New England thing. I am sad the mouse continues to squeak pathetically, but c'est la vie.
Speaking of exterminators, how does one enter this line of work? How do you develop a crushing, overwhelming, all-consuming desire to rid people's homes of pests and rodents? It must pay well, since no one else wants to do it, a la the garbage removal gig. It's the only thing I can fathom. That, and maybe you were a geeky kid who kept a rat in the cage. Maybe they save all the rodents after they bag 'em up and just pretend to kill 'em. Ooh, that's a lovely thought (erg!).
Well, my pretty pretties, watch Craig Ferguson (we are fine again, Craig and I), go to bitterwaitress.com for celebrity tipping stories that are GREAT, and keep breathing. Love yourselves, the earth, and your children.
And for God sakes, have some chocolate.
There are STILL mice dying in my brother's basement, for those one of you following the mouse saga. The exterminator, a friendly if a bit too chatty man from the midwest, ostensibly bagged all of the mice and put out a bunch of traps. However, I heard squeaking earlier and lo and behold, a poor mouse was staggering around looking like he'd had himself one helluva bender.
I tired of watching his or her suffering, so tried to coax the tiny thing onto my shovel. No dice. I was forced to leave it there to die slowly. Which makes me feel like a baby killer, or something (the mouse, is, in fact, a baby). I did, however, give the lucky exterminator man (who is selling his house, for those of you who want a ranch house near a pond !) my brownies, which are healthy. So far as brownies go, as I used whole wheat flour and 1/2 cup of sugar only.
Today has been another day from slow hell, but that's OK, there's always tomorrow, Scarlett O'Hara. GWTW is one book I never finished. It was too southern for me (yes, you may point your righteous guns of wrath at me, but I'm just being a truthful Yankee gal), and frankly too boring. I mean, Rhett and Scarlett, Scarlett and Rhett, like, who cares, people! Now I'll get comments, I'm sure!
The doorbell rang when I was in the middle of my impromptu Alanis Morrisette concert and I was greeted by an aggressive woman from some sort of National Health Survey Thingie who wanted to try and interview my absent brother and wife. I explained I couldn't speak for them, she wanted to know where they were, like she's a fed or something, and finally I got rid of her. Is there any such thing as being left in peace anymore? Now I expect the next interruption to be the Man Who Will Fix My Brother's Garage, but apparently he has a key, which is great, b/c frankly I don't do well with strangers. Hell, I don't do well with you if I've known you for ten years, but I do try. Call it the case of the Skittish Introvert, and yes, Capitals Are Fun!
I tried to watch Sin City (these are the useless things I've done today, in case you were wondering!), but it was so gratuitously violent right off the bat that I decided to pass. I'm not a Quentin Tarantino fan, and he seems kinda scary in interviews, like he's REALLY ANGRY. I spent years REALLY ANGRY, and now I'm just SOMETIMES ANGRY, but kept in check by the laws of nature, Catholicism, and punching bags. Well, I hope to be, anyway, I'd love a punching bag.
I read more about TomKat's Scientology Baby. Personally I do not plan to procreate. I have wonderful friends with a new baby, and I enjoyed her in the way you're supposed to with babies, but my maternal instincts must have died a couple years back. I had more in my twenties. Now the juice is gone (that sounds mildly obscene, but really, I'm just being quaint). I was referring to holding and rocking the baby, incidentally, not offering it up to satan a la Rosemary's Baby. Just in case you were wondering!
I am happy the exterminator man was happy to receive my brownies. Midwesterners I've met are all really nice and friendly. People where I live are not really nice and friendly, although they can be after you've known them for a year or so. It's the New England thing. I am sad the mouse continues to squeak pathetically, but c'est la vie.
Speaking of exterminators, how does one enter this line of work? How do you develop a crushing, overwhelming, all-consuming desire to rid people's homes of pests and rodents? It must pay well, since no one else wants to do it, a la the garbage removal gig. It's the only thing I can fathom. That, and maybe you were a geeky kid who kept a rat in the cage. Maybe they save all the rodents after they bag 'em up and just pretend to kill 'em. Ooh, that's a lovely thought (erg!).
Well, my pretty pretties, watch Craig Ferguson (we are fine again, Craig and I), go to bitterwaitress.com for celebrity tipping stories that are GREAT, and keep breathing. Love yourselves, the earth, and your children.
And for God sakes, have some chocolate.
posted by lakeofthelongsun72 at 11:02 AM
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