Marry me, Joel McHale

The Soup.

If you've never heard of it, let me say this: It's the best thing on E! For 30 minutes each Friday, Joel keeps up rolling in tears as he points out the superb absurdities of weekly television. You know...the 'good' stuff, like Bad Girls and Rock of Love, America's Next Top Model, The Real World, and best of all...Tyra Banks. Is there a single minute of that woman's airing that you can't make fun of? He touches on the ridiculous lives of our least favorite celebrities and on occasion he even catches a snippet or blooper from news gone wrong.

If it were not for Joel, I'd never know these tv atrocities exist, and now that I do, I am so thankful for him. If not I'd have to burn my tv, shaking my head in the knowledge that I share a country with the people who actually think this stuff is worthy to be aired.

We LOVE you, Joel!

Conversations with Janice

I've decided after many months that this little gem of a conversation has to be blogged. I was a little worried she might somehow stumble across it and get offended...but it's not like she can actually use a computer. I guess I'll take my chances.

----------------------------------------

The phone rings, I answer...it's Janice.

Janice: "Melissa, this is Mom"

Like I don't know it's her For one, I've heard her voice for 32 years, it tends to become recognizable, and two, She speaks more slowly than any other human I know, and finally, if all that fails to tip me off, my caller ID assures me that there is a 75% chance I will regret not letting this call go to voice mail, then calling back at a more convenient time...like when I have ten minutes of life left on my phone battery.

Me: "Hey Mom..."

Janice:"Hey. I just wanted to ask you a quick question. "

note: When Janice says "a quick question" this results in a conversation of a minimum: 15 minutes, average: 45 minutes, worst case scenario: 2 hours and she hangs up on me, mad and insulted, when I insist I have to go because Nate's bedtime was a hour ago

Me: "OK..."

HELP!

Janice: "You said you had free minutes after 7pm and on weekends, but I'm looking at my phone bill and we've got calls on here that we're being charged for, and the time of alot of these calls are after 7..."

OK, first of all: that's not even a question, but Holy freakin crap, are you kidding me? I can already see where this is going because I had a conversation with her two months ago that started the same way. I pray for a dropped or a low service area as I drive through the country. Please Cingular, if there was ever a time when you could fail me...PLEEEASE, PLEEEEEASE, let it be NOW!

Janice: "Why are we being charged for free minutes? That's just wrong!"

Oh good god, just fake a dropped call! You can do it!

Me: "Mom, No. What I said was I have unlimited/free minutes on my cingular plan after 7pm and on weekends, so if you guys are going to call me, to wait until then to do so unless it's an emergency, that way I won't go over and be charged for the calls."

Janice: "I know, but we're being charged for them. I've got the bill right here..."

Me: "There only free for my cell phone plan. You still get charged for the call if you make it from your home phone."

Janice: "I thought when you said free minutes, that they were free. I thought we weren't supposed to be paying for those calls if we waited to call you after 7. I mean, you said they were free. If we'd know we were being charged, we wouldn't have talked so long..."

Ok...this makes me laugh every time I think of it. See definition of 'quick question' above...yeah she wouldn't have talked long...riiiight.

Me: "Like I said before, these are 'free' only on my plan. If you call me from your home phone then you will be billed for the call because it's long distance. Now if you call from your cell phone and you have free nights and weekends on your plan you won't be charged. Or if I call you on your home phone, you aren't charged."

Janice: "Well, WE get charged ANYTIME on our cell plan. We have Verizon and it's just plain sorry."

Me: "Are you sure you don't have N&W on your plan? Most of them offer that. Maybe you should ask Dad...he would know since he set the plans up."

Janice: "He keeps talking about switching, because Verizon's service is just sorry"

Me: "You should still ask him."

Janice: "Do you have a bill for your calls that you could look at and tell me which time you called me. Our bill shows charges for all of these calls, and I know sometimes you called us after 7. So they're charging us for times when you called us. If you called, we shouldn't have to pay for it."

Oh...My...God

Me: "Mom, you're looking at a bill for your landline, right? It doesn't list incoming calls, so all of those charges are for calls you made to me."

Janice: "But you called us sometimes, I remember. We didn't always call you."

Holy Crap!

Me: "MOM! I know I called you too, but you won't see those calls at all on your bill. It only lists the calls you make. Those are the only ones you are getting charged for."

Janice: "But it doesn't say which ones are incomng or outgoing, it just lists a charge by each one. If they're charging us for all of them, that's wrong. We shouldn't have to pay for the ones we didn't make..."

This is what hell is like, isn't it? It must be...

Me: "MOM!!!!!! There is NOTHING WRONG on your bill!!! They are ALL OUTGOING CALLS!!!! They don't PRINT incoming calls on your bill."

Janice: "oh..."

Me: "I'm sorry you misunderstood what I said about the free minutes. I know you guys don't have alot of money, so if you ever need me to call you back at night, just say so. I don't always think about it, so just remind me and I'll call you right back..."

Janice: "Well, ok...I guess I'll let you go. I just wanted to ask you about that real quick...because when I talked to you before, you said they were free...and well, we thought they were free for us, too. I wish you had told us they weren't free for us"

My mom is on crack, I swear. She must be. I've had enough of this nonsense. Time to break out the reality check.

Me: "Well, Mom, I really don't understand why you would think that still, because we had this same conversation two months ago, because you got a phone bill and thought they were charging you then, too. I explained the whole situation to you before."

Janice: "You told ME about this?"

Me: "Yes, the same conversation. I told you the same thing two months ago. "

Janice: "Yeah, but when you told me, you said they were 'Free after 7pm, so we didn't think..."

AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGH!!!

Me: "Free for ME, MEEEEEEE. OK? THAT is what I told you. I'm sorry you didn't understand that you would be charged. The only reason I asked you all to wait until after 7pm was because we had lowered our plan and I had les than 300 minutes for daytime use and if I went over I got charged. Seriously mom, 40 cents per minute for anything over. That's alot. I just needed to be careful."

Janice: "I know it's alot. You know, your brother gets charged alot too...it says right here, he gets charged 20 cents a minute...and 12 cents a minute...33 cents..."

At this point I'm scratching my head, not a freakin' clue WHAT she is talking about...because she's still looking at HER bill. I'm certain she has lost her damn mind and is trying to take mine with it.

and then she says: "Oh, wait...no, no. Those are the length of the calls..."



I really wish I could say the conversation ended there, but it didn't. I'll spare you the rest of the details as I'm sure your brain is as numb as mine at this point, right??

I think I'll be burning my undies now.

Last week, I started painting and sealing our main bathroom. You've all read the drama we've dealt with with the gargantuan cucarachas getting into the house (I swear, Union must rival Florida in their bug size). Well, there are two known places where the nasty creatures can squeeze their little bodies through. One is under the sink, where the holes in the cabinets were drilled too large for the pipes, and behind the toilet, where a 2 inch piece of flooring is missing and the linoleum, well...'floats'...leaving a small gap between the floor and the red carpet entrance to our fantabulous bathroom from the dusty crawlspace that is the street corner to a variety of insect life. From their point of view...that entrance must look like a cucaracha nightclub.

Since we knew of those two, I had the holes closed off temporarily with tape until we could properly repair them. What I didn't know, was that the small corner cabinet, directly in front of the toilet, wasn't bug proof. Somewhere, somehow, they can get in. Wish I had discovered this little secret a better way...

You guys remember (from earlier posts) this is the bathroom where you basically have to shimmy your arse into the 20 inch space between the shower and wall, sorta behind the cabinet, to pee. Not a convenient space for anything...much less a quick getaway. And because of that fact, I had been using the guest bathroom. Then came a broken toilet, then came fleas in the bathtub...so the other bathroom was off-limits at the time.

Anyway...after playing hide and seek with Nate, I made a quick stop to pee...noticed the toilet paper roll was empty, opened the small cabinet (the safe cabinet...I thought) and grabbed a new roll. I always inspect everything I pick up, just in case, but this was from the bug-proof cabinet...so I gave it a once-over and hurried, as I heard Nate running through the house looking for me.

Well, I suppose it would have been wise to peer into the tube of the TP I'd picked up, because there was a FREAKIN HUGE cockroach inside it.

You know how you pick up a roll and put two fingers into the tube to hold it and use your other hand to unroll? Yeah...well, I did that only I felt something move, just for a split second, because with that he catapulted himself out of the TP tube and landed directly on my naughtybits!!!! And by 'naughtybits' I mean my hoo-haa!!! My giblets!!!! My girlparts!!! I swear to you, not even a full second had passed...my brain was still trying to process, I looked down to see the bug as it landed on me...hopped onto my undies and disappeared with lightning speed INTO MY PANTS LEG!!!

Toilet paper went flying, pee went everywhere (you can't really stop peeing in the grips of terror) and I believe the sound that came from my mouth was something like:

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

I don't know how I got out of that space, but I did. And I managed to get my pants and underwear off while still peeing on myself...kicking and swatting at myself the whole time.

*pantpantpantpant*

So there I was...hyperventilating, half naked in the bathroom, scanning every surface for this gigantic bug. Nothing. Keeping a close eye on my clothes, figuring he must still be in my pants...or *gag* my undies. And suddenly I realized I was unarmed. Unarmed against a creature that moves with cheetah-like speed, and the precision of a drunken squirrel...running right at their attacker. Dumb and fast is not a good combination in any creature...and I was trapped inside a 6x9 ft space with it. Defenseless and nude...baring my violated girl parts.

I grabbed a scrub brush from the cabinet and reached slowly from as far away as I could stand...and piched the undies, lifted them, poised in preparation for a bug-squishing...nothing. I shook them...nada. I put the brush down and looked into my undies...no bugs. I tossed them into the corner.

Next: the pants. Same routine...pinch, lift, look, shake, turn, shake, both hands, fluff and shake...nothing.

What the Hell?

Suddenly it dawned on me "What if he's ON me?"

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"*swat-smack-pat-smack-whap-whap-whap-hairfluff-smack-smack-shudder*

OK...shirt off...hair checked...nothing.

What...The...HELL?

I peered into the hallway to see if he'd escaped under the door and was hugging the baseboard somewhere.

Nope.

Stood there, thinking...he has to be under my clothes. He must have fallen out of my pants and hidden beneath my undies while I was checking them. Brush in hand, poised for attack, I bent to reach out for my pants one more time...

...and felt a fluttering on my left butt-cheek.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIII!!!!" *I think I did something that resembled a drunken ninja-kick and yelled...Get it off me!!!*

Nate had decided, in the spirit of hide and seek, that it was the appropriate moment to sneak up on me and touch my naked booty from the doorway...while I was leaning over reaching for my buggy undies on the floor.

Not. Cool.

That shaved a good 10 years off my life at least. And I NEVER found that damn bug! He must have scuttled away into the air vent, which I taped promptly. That's the only place I couldn't see into. I called the exterminator for a quarterly follow-up 10 minutes later.

So....I think I'll burn my undies outside, in a tiny bon-fire fashion...with a few dead cucarachas tied to little stakes around the firepit as a fiery warning to all the others.

As for the pesky crotchroach who nearly killed me, and left me with drywall burns on my elbows from trying to escape the tiny death-trap toilet cubby with arms flailing...wherever he escaped to, I know he's dead...and I hope before the little bastard died he had terrifying nightmares and visions of being eaten by a giant vagina!!

Karma wins again.

Am I a magnet for chaos and catastrophe?

On August 9th, Dan was rear-ended while driving to work. The car sustained damages just $500 shy of being a total loss. $8500. We got the car back on Sept 25 (they kept it for six weeks) and it was almost perfectly repaired, aside from a couple cosmetic details. Dan was planning to take it to the dealer to have them correct it on Monday.

No point in doing that.

At a very dark and early 5am drive to work, my car got well aquainted with a deer on McConnells hwy...at 55mph.

It dashed out into the road, as deer typically do, about 20 feet ahead of me. I hit the brakes hard, but not too hard (lost control of a car and broke 7 bones in 1994 from braking too hard and swerving) and didn't swerve obviously, lest I get acquainted with some trees in a hurry. Anyway...this deer pulls a move I hadn't seen before. Bambi's got nothing on this girl, apparently she's been hangin' out with the squirrels...she turned for a sec, and almost ran back...then took one giant leap in an attempt to escape.

My passenger side headlight clipped her, caught her right in the hip area, spun her around like a top, and I heard a few taps and scrapes on the side of the car. It didn't sound very bad, but I knew there would be some damage. I drove back to see if she was on the ground and visible to me, but she had run off (or at least I think, I could see only as far as my headlights shone) Poor thing. I know she must be injured and hurting.

When I got to McConnells, I pulled into a Texaco parking lot and took a closer look at the car.

The hood is all wonky and dented. The very front of it is curled under like a crumpled soda can. The headlight housing is broken, the grille is hanging off (the impact broke one of the bolts off and cracked the grille plate) There is a small dent and a few scratches on the side of the car, but nothing really noticeable. No blood, but some hair embedded in the grille.

I have driven those roads for 15 years, and I always knew...I knew...at some point I'd nail one. But now? Come ON!!!!

I feel like somewhere, out there in the vast and infinite universe, the mischievous hand of karma has taken a shine to me, and every now and then...has to smoosh me...like those feet on Monty Python's Flying Circus.

And then it has a good laugh, gets distracted, loses interest for a few days, then...*SMOOSH!*

And, yes...I know things could be much worse, so don't misunderstand. I am so very thankful for the positive things in my life, the bright side, if you will...the blessings most people take for granted. For instance...at least there wasn't another deer behind that one to smack into my windsheild...at least it was a deer, not a bear...at least I had a change of underwear even though I didn't need it...at least the cucarachas aren't infesting in my house, they just happen to be outside bugs that know the way in...at least my kid wasn't in the bed when my cat peed on it...

So forget what I said about being cursed. I have been smitten by the pointy finger of Karma, and I am now her bitch

#1 reason to not forget to clean the litter box.

I just had to strip all the bedding, foam, mattresses and rug from Nate's room because one of my cats peed on his bed. We had two crib matresses pushed together as his bed because he rolls so much. The little vermin peed right where they meet, so it soaked the bedding and both matresses (even though they have a plastic covering, the cat pee won) and soaked through the 9x12 chenille rug into the floor. I guess my only option for cleaning that rug is a HUGE washer at the laundr-o-mat. UGH!!! As for now it's perfuming my front porch.

So much for a morning out. Looks like I'm on cleaning and cat-beating duty today. Don't get me wrong...I love my cats, but sometimes they are exceptionally skilled at tempting me to boot their heineys out into the yard...for good!


Is there anything worse than the nauseating stench of cat pee? A friend suggested dog poo was worse. I have to disagree. I think the cat pee wins by means of persistence. I can scrub away dog poo. Cat pee lingers...and lingers...and sours...then you get stale cat pee. And if you don't find it while it's wet...it turns to ninja pee...impossible to find! Then you end up sniffing every surface of the room because you insist it's there...somewhere and no one in the house is going to relax until it's found so you can clean it.

Carlos the Cockroach

Very few cockroaches in the house these days. I guess the insecticide forcefield is still working. Every now and then one finds a tiny crevice to squeeze it's greasy little body through, mainly in the trash cupboard, where it can make a quick escape through the cracks before we can move the trash bin and smoosh it.

For those of you who understand the cockroach plague of the South, I thought I'd share the newest development in my cucaracha wars. I'm sure everything I've written thus far, you have lived yourself, you know their behavior, the means to kill them, the horror of the realization of not being alone when you flip the light switch and see them scuttling across the floor, legs flailing in a mad attempt to survive. Or worse, the ones who don't run, have no fear and just stare at you.

*shudder*

Well, here's one thing you probably haven't encountered in your bug wars. Something you can be thankful for...

At least your husband doesn't name the cockroach in the trash cupboard 'Carlos'...and then tell you he's named it Carlos...which prompts you to ask him if he killed Carlos...to which he answers "Well, he wasn't really hurting anyone in there"...after which you go on a hunt to squish the life out of Carlos, only to find an empty cupboard for days.

On the fourth day, your husband walks into the den, looking saddened. And when you ask what's wrong...he tells you "I killed Carlos...it was an accident" and he continues "Well mostly...he's not really dead yet, but I cut off his head trying to trap him under a glass when he escaped...and I chopped his head off with the edge of the glass"

And you swear he's going to cry.

And then you replay it in your mind ...not really dead, yet?....but he chopped his head off?

Whaaaaaaaaat?

His bizarre behavior prompts you to ask "Who ARE you???? ...and why didn't you kill him?"

And perhaps like me you'll move the glass *and Carlos* outside...and marvel at the horror as he survives for two days...with NO HEAD!!!



Heh! I bet you thought that was just some silly rumor.

Frog Killer

I am responsible for the death of a grey tree frog.

Yep.

Killed him in my car.

DEAD.

And why was he in my car, you ask? Well...I'll tell you. I'm not really sure. All I know is this: I was driving home from work at 1am on Sunday morning, 45 miles of country roads ahead of me...I'm blaring the stereo and wailing my heart out, windows down and enjoying the cool night air. About 10 miles out of Rock Hill, I reached for my lip balm from the passenger seat, but couldn't find it, so I flipped the interior light on. I grabbed my lip balm (I go NOWHERE without my lip balm, it's like blood. I'd die without it, I swear!!) and something from the back seat caught my eye as I flipped the light back off.

It was something living...alive...another LIFE in my vehicle when I thought I was alone.

NOT. GOOD.

I think, in that split second it took for me turn the interior light back on, I was the closest I've ever been to pooping my shorts. Seriously, next stop blowout...like a defense mechanism. It's probably written somewhere in the human care manual: 'Humans will poop on their attackers if provoked in a means to distract, giving them time to escape. However, this defense is only effective assuming the human hasn't passed out from sheer terror.'

I turned slowly and peered into the back seat...nothing...*sigh of relief*...and then my eyes refocused on the headrest of the passenger seat...where the pointiest, boniest frog butt I've ever seen... just a mere 8 inches away from my nose. (I drive a Ford Focus, so it may have been closer...all I know is almost shit my pants...AGAIN!)

Yes it was just a frog, but in that second all I knew is there in fact WAS another living creature in my car with me, and he did not belong! All my brain processed was a string of warnings 'INTRUDER! FOREIGN BEING! TWO MORE EYES THAN ACCOUNTED FOR IN THIS VEHICLE!!! AGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!' Rather than...'Be aware, there is a pointy frog butt in your facial vicinity', to which I could have responded to calmly. Instead...I nearly ran off the damn road as a result of heart-failure.

**Yes I was still driving You know...back roads, pitch black darkness, possible killer in the back seat...you just don't pull over in these situations unless you have to.

Once I regained control of the wheel, and the car was moving slowly and in a straight path as opposed to 'whirling dervish' style... I calmed myself (all the while keeping one eye firmly locked on the froggy butt who was ACK! turning his body to face me...*heart rate increasing* and tried to decide what to do.

Now, I am not afraid of frogs or toads in the least. What I am afraid of, is them jumping into my hair or on my face...or pretty much anywhere without warning. THAT, will most certainly cause me to kill myself. And as I'm driving, I'm imagining my own death by car crash...no one would see a frog...just a dead me. No signs of foul play....no evidence of cause of accident. They'd determine I'd fallen asleep, or been careless...either way I'd be dead and I'd have no chance to defend my awesome driving skills (*snort*) I'd be labeled a bad driver...forever...ALL BECAUSE OF A DAMN FROG BUTT.

That's it...he had to go.

Now the question was how do I get him out of the stupid car??? Great. No cars on the road...or at least no headlights (can't be too sure in the country...). No driveways visible...dammit! No where to pull over. He turned to face me. All I could think was 'That little f--ker is gonna jump on my FACE and I'll die...DIE!' No time to find the perfect spot, so I just stopped in the middle of the dang road and turned and stared him down...trying to figure out how to grab him. Knowing it would be an impossible task. And once he jumps, I may not be able to find him, and I'll be forced to drive the next 30 miles in terrifying anticipation of his slimy little butt leaping on me unaware.

I moved my hand swiftly toward him from the front...and MISSED him!!! Dammit! He landed on Nate's car seat.

*great, now I get to explain frog poo on the carseat!*

I grabbed at him again...and missed a SECOND time!

*what happened to me? I used to be so good at frog-catching...I SUCK at this*

GAH!!! Headlights over the hill...panic sets in...could be those howling lunatics from 'Wrong Turn' ( I always think that) and I decide froggy will have to share the ride home with me. I'm sure he wasn't as afraid as me for those 30 miles. Every little brush against my leg, or arm...took a few weeks off of my life span. The whole way I dreaded the arrival home, where I'd have to find him...or else he'd perish in the car and then I can only imagine the smell of 100 degree dead frog butt. I might die from that also.

Got home without incident, but couldn't find him. I left the windows down hoping he'd jump out, but apparently frogs are not very smart. What the hell was he doing in the car in the first place? I went out the next morning and he was hiding underneath the carseat strap, near death. I took him in and cooled him down, keeping him from drying out all afternoon, but he died anyway, and I was very sad that he'd suffered in the heat.

I'd looked forward to sharing my story of the bony-assed hitch-hiking little amphibian who nearly killed me, that I got to set free, but sadly the story is not all smiles and fun. I guess it's all fun and games till Mo kills a frog. Poor little fella.

Welcome to NOWHERE

I've discovered the locals...or they've discovered me.

I rushed over to grab a few last minute food items on the 4th (since we'd determined late in the day that we'd be staying in for the evening) and of the 2 grocery stores in town, I determined that the Piggly Wiggly was closer than Bi-Lo. And, since it was 5 minutes til 6pm, I figured it to be my safer bet.

OK...this is the smallest grocery store I'd EVER seen. You know how you go into a primary school and all the furniture is teeny and you suddenly feel like a giant in who-ville? Yeah...it was like that. The store was tiny, and the fixtures were old...and if you've never noticed that store fixtures got larger over the years...I'm here to tell you. THEY DID. It felt like I stepped into the twilight zone. Oompa Loompas probably stock the shelves after dark.

When I finally get to the register...the cashier gives me the raised eyebrow, but a friendly smile. Clearly I don't appear to be 'from these parts' but she is welcoming.
And while I'm placing my items on the conveyor, she asks me "You got a pig card?"

Ummm...what?

"Excuse me?" I say, clearly puzzled, then it dawns on me that she must be talking about a savings or discount card. I am in the Piggly Wiggly after all...duh. But do they call it that, seriously? A PIG card? *sigh* Another board meeting I would have loved to have been present for...

Chairman PiggleWilly: OK guys...Any ideas on a name for our Piggly Wiggly discount card?

Guy #1: "How about 'Swine Savers?'"

Guy #2: "Oooh! How about 'Hog Hoppers?'"

Guy #3: "....Hmmmm. 'Pig Card?'"

Chairman PiggleWilly: *speaking over oohs and ahhs from Guys #1 and 2** "Yes! That's it! How CLEVER!!! You get a raise, Guy #3! Good work little piggie!"

Cashier: "DO you got a pig card?"

Me: "Ohh, sorry. No. I just moved to the area. I've never even been in a Piggly Wiggly before."

Cashier: "Would you like to get one? It only takes a minute to fill out..."

Me: "Sure, I guess. I'll probably be back from time to time, since the store is so close."

Cashier: *turns to far end of store and yells* "TOMMY!!!!! GET ME SOME PIG CARDS! I AIN'T GOT NO MORE!"

Me: "Ummm...that's ok, I can just get one next..."

Cashier: "TOMMMMMMMYYYYYYY!"

Tommy: "mumblemumblemumble" (from somewhere in store)

Cashier: "WELL, THERE AIN"T NONE UP HERE!" *looks at me and rolls her eyes*

Tommy: "OK!"

Cashier: "So...you moved to Union....on purpose?" *eyebrow raised*

Me: "Yes"

Cashier: "Uhhh...WHY?"

Me: "Well, my husband and I have a family now, and we wanted a larger house, for a cheap price, in a small, quiet town. And that lead us here."

Cashier: *raises eyebrow a little further...as if she's waiting for me to laugh and say "No silly...I'd never move HERE!" and laugh loudly*

Me: *both eyebrows raise, challenging the girl's state of mind, pondering if she's just young and ignorant, or a total wackjob...*

Cashier: *In a loud and eerily friendly, but deadpan voice* "WELL! Welcome to Union. You'll never have ANYTHING to do. EVER. AGAIN."

Then she raises her eyebrow and smiles...sort of.

Me: "Heheheh...ummm. Thanks."

*sigh*

Small town teens. Gotta love em.

At last...

No cucarachas for a whole week now!!! Woo-hoo! I think I found their primary entrance, and for now, until I can fix it properly, it is duct taped. You know, I bet there are probably at least 50 of the creepy little f--kers stuck to the underside of that tape...heh! Or at least a bunch of cucarachaless legs. Ha...That means there are gimpy little cucarachas running around Union. I can get miles of enjoyment out of that thought.

BWAAHAAAHAAAA! Love me some duct tape!

This is going to take forever...

Friday June 23rd

If anyone would like to put on their holsters and come down packin' silicone guns...you can help me seal 2700 square feet of old house. There are so many places where the outside bugs can get in. I've found about 7 or 8 since we got the place a month ago. Gah!

The bug guy has been out and sprayed. Now we just need to prevent them from entering. It's pretty much like leaving the door open and hoping they don't visit... The previous owners just sprayed and didn't properly seal the gaps around the pipes etc... I don't want to go that route. I want them outside where they belong. Not in my house, even if they are twitching and near-death.

In the meantime...pulling their antennae seems to piss them off quite a bit! (with a foreign object, NOT my hand!!) I'm not an idiot. I did get a good suggestion from a friend:

Jes said: "We used to spray them with neon spraypaint and watch them race around the shop back in San Diego They're much less creepy when they're day-glo"

And you know what? They are less creepy... See for yourself!

11:59 am

That beast is still twitching. I think I heard him whimper when I lifted the plunger 10 minutes ago. I poked at his antennae a couple times just for laughs and then sent him to the dark place again.

The Battle of the Bugs continues

Friday, July 23rd 9:47 am.

I found a gargantuan one belly-up on my bathroom floor....(I gotta seal around those damn pipes!) and it was all twitchy and trembling. I just hovered over it and looked at it...imagining it was trembling out of fear of the fierce and mighty Mo, CUCARACHA-KILLER. I thought about smooshing him, but I figured I'd let him suffer it out...so I grabbed the plunger and lowered it over him with a loud and booming "BWAAAHAAAAHAAAAHAAAA!" and walked away satisfied that he would tremble until his death in total icky plunger-y darkness.

The joys of an old house

Not only do we have spiders...and LOTS of them...we have other more unwelcome friends.

A big fat cockroach greeted me at my new house over the weekend. BLARGH! staring at me through the glass on the counter in the bathroom first thing in the morning, magnified to about 500 times normal ize. I nearly peed myself.

Our house is almost 100 yrs old and there are so many places that need to be sealed to keep the 'outside' bugs where they belong. It's a slow process, so we called the local bug-man to spray yesterday.

It will be a happy happy day when I finish sealing off all the little nooks and crannies where they find their way in. Until then, I shall rejoice in the occaisional twitching of a bug about to meet its maker, as I hover over it, yelling...."Now, go tell your little buddies what happens when you dare come into this house, you evil beast!"

Spidey Poo

If spider poo is toxic, I'm dead for sure...

I just finished taking down the wallpaper in our main bathroom.

It was quite possibly the ugliest wallpaper I've ever seen. Not because of the bamboo pattern that met its demise decades ago, or the fact that the texture made it appear to constructed of burlap (FYI: huge dust catcher), and not even that it was probably the worst wallpaper application in the history of man. Do people not realize moisture + wallpaper = ...well...no wallpaper. This house is about 100 yrs old, and while there is a ceiling fan in almost every room, and a garbage disposal, and an AC and a SHOWER of course...apparently no one ever though it wise to upgrade with an exhaust fan.

The stuff had started to roll itself down the walls and curl at every edge. I found evidence of repair jobs which must have been attempted with the use of super glue, because it pulled the cardboard off of the drywall behind it. Yes, bare drywall. They never. even. primed it!

The nastiest of the nasty factor: The wallpaper on either side of the toilet was so stained dark...um...yellow *gag* that it appeared brown (the rest was white and green with a slight yellow hue...as if nicotine stained. Maybe if they'd left a little more room for the toilet, they would have had room to clean. The space, if you can call it that, where the toilet sits...is crammed between two walls, no lie, 20 inches apart. That's LESS than two feet. And then the cabinet is in front of the 'doorway' to the toilet area. So you kinda have to turn yourself and shimmy your ass into the space in order to use it. My cats have more space in there covered cat box, seriously.

Obviously we are remodeling that bathroom (the other one is fine-someone else must have owned the house when that one was added...but still, no exhaust fan)

So...anyway. As I'm pulling all of this nastiness from the walls, I find myself 'showered' with what feels like sand...and figure it's just dirt or whatever gets trapped between the molding and the ceiling...and shrugged it off, smart enough to close my eyes with any further tugging.

About 3/4 of the way around, I'm talking to Nate at the doorway and forget to close my eyes. At that point I notice that all the little sandy debris falling on me is black...and pellet-shaped And I think to myself...eww that looks like poo...kinda like mouse poo, but way too small. And then I look up and start to ponder (Bad idea) what would make poo so small? So I remember seeing lots of spiders in the basement...but then think 'Nahhhh'...but in determination, I climb my ladder and inspect closely...more closely...and there they are...hundreds of teeny weeny turds suspended in spider webs around the walls where the wallpaper hung loosely.

BLAAARGH!!! All I could think was 'TAKE A DAMN SHOWER...NOW!' Yes, take a shower, but it was full of torn wallpaper!! ACK! So I washed my hands, my mouth, flicked my hair hoping to rid it of spidey turds, and brushed my teeth about twenty times...fretting the entire time that spider poop is toxic and I will probably die...or surely go blind. Afterwards I cleaned out the shower, vacuumed the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the toilets, the walls again, the counter...the molding a hundred times in hopes of sucking spidey out of his dark happy home. My revenge for being welcomed with a teeny poop-shower. And finally...FINALLY was able to take a REAL shower. I still feel dirty. And now every little speck on the floor or the wall is "OhMyGod MORE SPIDER POO!" It must have gotten to my brain already.

So...If no one hears from me...direct authorities to the bathroom for clues.

***One more FYI: 'Burlappy' wallpaper simply isn't a good decorating choice. It is also a huge trap for teeny weeny spider turds.

Still Alive....

Not much posting since we found out we'd be moving...I'll have to see what I can dig up from my journaling archive to bridge the gap.