do know that before we move into the Smallville house, we’re going to have a pest control person come out and figure out where they’re coming from and how to stop them.
I could probably handle a wasp sting okay (with perhaps copious amounts of whining), but I’d hate it if one of the cats was stung by one of them and got sick.
Fucking wasps.
* * *
Okay, confession: Possibly once or twice while I was killing wasps last weekend one of them MIGHT HAVE flown at my face, causing me to run like hell through the house (up side of losing all that weight: I can RUN and not fall over from the exertion) squealing like a little girl, sure that my number was up.
“I found her dead on the floor like that,” Fred would inform the cops in his usual earnest manner. “I don’t know what happened, I only know that the entire house shook and someone was squealing, and then she crashed to the floor and I thought she was kidding around so I didn’t check on her for fifteen or sixteen hours. By then, of course, she was good and dead.”
And the cop would look at me and shake his head. “Too damn bad,” he’d say. “We get more people scared literally to death by wasps than you’d believe.” Then he’d scoff and shake his head again. “Damn pansy-ass city folk.”
“She always was a bit of a wimp,” Fred would say, conveniently forgetting that he’d been pointing out wasps for me to kill all weekend long.”
“Well, I’ll send out the medical examiner, but I’m sure he’ll say her death was caused by the face that she was a complete and utter spaz,” the cop would say.
Fred would nod in agreement.
Only I was FAST LIKE THE WIND and the damn hypothetical wasps never caught up to me. So there.
(Also, I fully expected Fred to come down and say “What the fuck are you doing?”, only he never even noticed I was crashing through the house like a bull in a china shop. Nonexistent ghosts, he hears. Me running from one end of the house to the other sounding like a herd of elephants, nada.)
* * *
And last night as we were at the house and I was painting (KILL ME), I felt a tickling in my boobal area, so I looked down and found not one, not two, but three of those damn ladybug lookalike bugs crawling around in my shirt. I did a little dance and flicked them off me, squealing, and then stomped on them.
You thought I was going to say I found a wasp down the front of my shirt, didn’t you?
If that had happened, I’m not sure I’d have lived to tell the tale.
* * *
I’m about three weeks behind in watching my TV shows. I’m pretty much up to date on Lost (I still need to watch last night’s episode, though) and Grey’s Anatomy, but I have two or three episodes each of ER, Desperate Housewives, Brothers and Sisters, and Breaking Bonaduce to watch.
I watched Desperate Housewives and Brothers and Sisters yesterday afternoon (is it just me, or is every man on that show except Uncle Saul just impossibly good-looking? Also, is it just me or is Sally Field reprising her role she played on ER as Abby’s crazy mother?), but then picked up an episode of Lost, a Dr. Phil, a Junk Brothers, and a Biggest Loser.
I am NEVER going to catch up.
* * *
Hey. If one of you photoshoppin’ geniuses could take this picture and photoshop the toys and the carrier in the background out of the picture (and make sure you keep the picture full-size), I would appreciate it so much I’d link to you and give you big internet smooches.
Thank you, Vix!!!! and
Suzie!!!!!
(I’m making a t-shirt for my niece for Christmas and think it’d look better without the stuff in the background.)
* * *
How lame am I for laughing at something in my entry from a year ago? I read
I did threaten to name him “Doo McGillicuddy” and just call him Sugarbutt, but Fred wouldn’t go for that. and laughed out loud.
I mean, for god’s sake. How perfect a name is “Doo McGillicuddy”?
(I giggled again just typing the name.)
Don’t be too surprised if the next foster kitten gets that name.
* * *
Doesn’t Tommy look thrilled?
Maddy in mid-leap.
Dance, Maddy. DANCE!
All of today’s uploaded pictures are
here.
* * *
Miz Poo sniffs out the situation.
* * *
Previously
2005: as a customer and a HUMAN, I outrank the computer, and I’d like a little RESPECT, thank you.
2004: All this cleaning is making me lightheaded.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Little things make me happy.
1999: Guest entry by Fred.]]>
