War on the Homefront

Those who know me well would most likely describe me as an animal lover. I love cats, rats, bugs, fish, dogs, horses, etc. I have been know to rehabilitate everything from birds to bats, and even take spiders outside instead of killing them.

I would never have imagined myself hating an animal, but that time has come. To the little f’ers ruining my lawn…it’s ON bitches!

That’s right kids, gophers. These bastards are DESTROYING my lawn. I have about 15 little to not-so-little dirt mounds in the grass and flower garden. I’m not gardening freak, but I do take care of my yard, and damn it, I don’t deserve this!

My pest control ‘guy’ has been to my home 3 times and put out poison. Worthless. My neighbor told me to use these ‘smoke bomb’ type of thing. I wasn’t able to find them at Lowe’s…stupid Lowe’s.

For now I’ll just glare at each dirt pile with hatred in my heart. Maybe I should just watch Caddyshack and go from there. I’ll keep you updated on the progress, or lack there of.

A Day on the Streets of My Neighborhood

To the man (read slack jawed yokel) in the old green pickup truck with the enormous camper…It might be easier to keep control of your vehile/residence if you removed your finger, which you jammed knuckle deep into your nostril, and placed your hand on the steering wheel. Just a thought.

Just a thought…

Throughout my life I’ve heard, seen, and read the statement, “Nice guys finish last”. And recently, with almost as much regularity, I’ve been asked the question, “why do girls always go for the bad guys?”.

Now kids, don’t get all excited. This is not going be the equivalent of a Dr. Phil show that answers all of your man/women questions, “The mysteries of the sexes revealed!”. Because in truth, I’m as socially and relationship retarded as the next girl. But I DO have a theory…one that merits some thought.

Maybe nice guys DON’T finish last. And maybe girls DON’T always go for the bad boys. Maybe the nice guys and good boys are so damn busy chasing their prey–the fantasy dream girl whose perfection exists more in the pursuers mind than in reality–that they fail to recognize what is standing right in front of them.

Even I have a heart

Divorce has this crazy way of changing the relationship of the formerly married couple (everyone in unison…DUH!!!). There might be hurt feelings, resentment, or good old fashioned hard and cold indifference.

All this being said, hearing the ex say, “Hold on–(holds phone away from mouth)–Mom, will you shave my back later?”…even with my black and apathetic soul, I feel sympathy for the man that I once called ‘husband’.

Much aboob about nothing

There are various types of ‘highs’ or adrenaline rushes that one experiences throughout their life. The epinephrine surge from a near death experience is different from that of, say, a first kiss from your current crush.

And the type of high that you get from riding an intense water slide is MUCH different from the adrenaline rush you get when 20+ people waiting in line at the bottom of said slide see your completely exposed right breast as you stand up out of the water after you just ate shit and got your ass kicked by the slide.

I feel a mixture of appreciation and disgust for the fully tattooed man that pointed at my chest and said, “whoa”, thus alerting me to my naked breast. Yes, thanks for letting me know my teat was hanging out for all to see. But for the, “you don’t gotta worry about the kids seeing it, you’ve gotta worry about exciting the men like me”, you get a shudder and will forever be known to me as “Jackass”.

Another Confirmation…

When I have those moments of doubt…moments when I ask myself, “did I do the right thing?”, all I have to do is look out the window. There, sitting in my driveway, is a van that can only be described as the most tangible evidence of a mid-life crisis that I have ever beheld. It’s sour apple suicide green Scooby-Doo $4000 paint job screams, “YES…You chose wisely my dear.”