So, apparently my sister Cassandra said she was boycotting my blog until I was “funny again.” Apparently self-deprecation and tirades about unfortunate mix-ups with Girl Scout cookies and the latest carbs I’ve fallen prey to is not interesting fodder… or food for thought (pun absolutely intended).
Fine, be that way… I shall move onto something more “interesting.” (I happen to find my food intake very interesting, but Danny saus I’m starting to sound like I have an eating disorder… which, hello! “Bulima is like sooo 9th grade… well, in my case, a good portion of my senior year of college, but lets move past that .. I have.)
Back to the GRIND.
There is a mouse in my house. (Sometimes I think I am too honest in my posts... first posting my weight, now this.)
But seriously, there is a mouse in my house. Probably more than one… I don’t really want to know. I just want Mickey and his friends to leave. I’m not trying to be violent; I’m not trying to build a better mouse trap… I just want him out.
I saw him scamper across my kitchen counter this afternoon (excuse me, I just vomited in my mouth.)
I really shouldn’t post this, because I’m not sure if anyone will EVER want to come over for a dinner party again… but apparently these things are quite common on the East side (“east side pride” my Kim-Kardasian-sized “A.C.E.”)
Double Ew. (The mouse, not Kim K.)
Danny refers to the deer and other creatures of Mt. Olympus as “his little friends.” (This actually stems back to when my little nephew Max, now 3, got bit on the finger at the Krohn Conservatory in Cincinnati last winter. When we asked him to recount the sad tale, he began his story with: “Well, I thought he was my little friend.”)
The moral of the story is, I want them to be my little friends (I hope actually there’s just one friend… this is one case in socialization that I don’t really want to grow my circle of love.)
I want them to know I appreciate them as God’s creatures… I’m sure they do something splendid in the circle of life… but let’s stick to the cartoon Lion King and have them take their rightful place in the animal kingdom which does NOT include eating my fancy crackers that are delectable with Brie cheese… they don’t need it… it’s not what God intended. I’m pretty sure I don’t need a “witness” about the truth of that statement.
It says Man is that he might have joy; but I have not seen ANYWHERE in the scriptures where is says “mice are that they might eat pretentious crackers!”
So here’s the deal… I got this new “Pest a Cator” and “Bait Block” for the bargain price of about 50 bux. (I know, those $5 mouse traps are a lot cheaper, but I do not want to see a dead rodent in my house… I’d much rather see a LIVE one scampering outside to NEVER return to the Suite-Cain-Mangum pad. )
So the Pest a Cator says that you just plug it in and its “patended pulse electro magnetic technology .. [will] send a pulsing signal throughout the wiring of [my] home. This silent pulse is intended to annoy rodents and may help with problems behind walls.”
(Again, excuse me… more vomiting…)
So, that is my “nice” way of saying, “GET OOOOOOOOOOOUTTT you filthy rodent!!!” (Which in this case, is completely literal in its meaning.)
See I’ve already asked them nicely to leave… after I screamed bloody murder… but I really did ask nicely at first. But I was afraid they weren’t listening. I don’t even speak a second human language… let alone “mouse.” Though I do have some ex-boyfriends who I am confident spoke “RAT.” (Just kidding, sort of…)
And if they don’t comply (the mice, not the ex-boyfriends, obviously)… well, I’m taking the very non Buddhist approach and letting them eat the poison where they supposedly bleed internally and try to find their way outside (Danny says to find water… I’d say to find a better resting place than next to our cheerios. That just looks gluttonous…even for a mouse.)
So they’ll be dead… and I may feel better that their gone… but it will kind of be like: “Listen dudes… I tried to warn you. But no, you needed the fancy crackers… and now, you MUST DIE!” Or their case, you’re dead.
Do mice go to heaven? I feel terrible.
Anyway, the box for the electromagnetic mouse-be-gone surprise says: “Within days you may see and increase ub activity as “Pest A Cator” begins working.”
So at least I have something to look forward to in this little experiment : more little friends.
PS. After this post, you can promise I won’t be talking about what I’m eating.