While the first floor remains blessedly cool throughout the day, my second floor suite becomes akin to the towering inferno - only not towering, and without giant water tanks to explode in a means to douse the flames.
Walking across the hard wood floor is like walking across the cement around the public pool, it's almost too hot to do without sandals on.
So, given the fact the second floor averages twenty-degrees warmer than the first, you can imagine my frustration over the fact only one of my two bedroom windows opened.
I've been trying since last Friday to open this damn window! Once, I'd taken off my shoes and my socks slid across the floor before the window budged more than half an inch up. I almost opened the window with my head. *grumbles* *stoopid hard wood floors*
I asked my uncle Ross, the hero of "If you can't fix it - break it." Even he couldn't manage to get it open.
Today, I was prying away at the frame with two flat head screwdrivers, trying to loosen the frame from the track, or wedge the window up by the small crack I'd opened at the bottom.
After about an hour trying to force the window up without breaking it, unscrewing the lock with the thought it was hanging up the window, and sweating profusely all over the silk curtains - I realized the lower window was getting hung up on the upper window!
I still didn't know WHAT was catching in the upper window, so I decided the only solution was to squeeze my big butt out the tiny window (the one that actually opened is right beside the jammed one) onto the roof to see if I can pry the upper window free from the outside.
Imagine my surprise when I'm prying at the lower window with the screwdriver, and the glass pops out. It's then I notice the glass has a lip on it to push up and down, and the lip in on the upper outside instead of the lower inside. A storm window had been jammed against the lower window so that the glass fit so exactly I hadn't had any idea there was a second pane of glass. The storm window was jammed against the regular window inside out and backwards, the lip of the storm window had been catching the upper window, so I couldn't raise the lower or lower the upper.
I was absolutely dumbfounded. Half the windows in this house don't have screens, but mine has an extra storm window. I think I'm having buyer's remorse - and it's not even my house, I'm just living in for a while.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Compoms
Ah, the much awaited Verona post! Well, maybe not all that highly anticipated, but I think it's still worth a chuckle or two.
Sunday, if you read my hyper coffee post, you know that I went to work with a carafe worth of Starbucks Verona Bold Blend sloshing around in my tummy. The last time I went to work on that high of a caffeine buzz, I was chained to the register, so the only ones to suffer were the customers.
Sunday, I was given three boxes of belts and a box of wallets to put out. The belts were wrapped in plastic, so the leather didn't rub, or stick together, and I had to pull the long, thin, sort of grayish-white plastic sheath off each belt. For some reason, pulling the plastic off of 28-42" of leather and being left with a dirty, wrinkled sheath, reminded me of taking of a condom. Bear with me, I was on a buzz.
I told Sean the crinkled up plastic sheaths reminded me of dry, used condoms. That earned me a look. He didn't agree. In fact, only one of my five co-workers that morning agreed that it was somewhat reminiscent of a condom.
I told Jess (who carries a jumbo condom in her purse wallet) that she should open it, take out the condom, and slip in one of the belt sheaths - just to freak out her boyfriend.
The most priceless moment of the day came when I'd finished the belts and had a box full of empty condoms. I grabbed two handfuls and went bouncing into the back declaring, "Look! I have Condom Pom Poms! Compoms, or Pomdoms." They even made that plastic crinkling sound pompoms do when you shake them.
Sadly, after that, I was chained to the register so they wouldn't have to deal with me, so I don't have more fun stories, but the look on everyone's face when I was bouncing around with the condom pompoms was priceless!
I'll blog about something better as soon as inspiration strikes me.
Sunday, if you read my hyper coffee post, you know that I went to work with a carafe worth of Starbucks Verona Bold Blend sloshing around in my tummy. The last time I went to work on that high of a caffeine buzz, I was chained to the register, so the only ones to suffer were the customers.
Sunday, I was given three boxes of belts and a box of wallets to put out. The belts were wrapped in plastic, so the leather didn't rub, or stick together, and I had to pull the long, thin, sort of grayish-white plastic sheath off each belt. For some reason, pulling the plastic off of 28-42" of leather and being left with a dirty, wrinkled sheath, reminded me of taking of a condom. Bear with me, I was on a buzz.
I told Sean the crinkled up plastic sheaths reminded me of dry, used condoms. That earned me a look. He didn't agree. In fact, only one of my five co-workers that morning agreed that it was somewhat reminiscent of a condom.
I told Jess (who carries a jumbo condom in her purse wallet) that she should open it, take out the condom, and slip in one of the belt sheaths - just to freak out her boyfriend.
The most priceless moment of the day came when I'd finished the belts and had a box full of empty condoms. I grabbed two handfuls and went bouncing into the back declaring, "Look! I have Condom Pom Poms! Compoms, or Pomdoms." They even made that plastic crinkling sound pompoms do when you shake them.
Sadly, after that, I was chained to the register so they wouldn't have to deal with me, so I don't have more fun stories, but the look on everyone's face when I was bouncing around with the condom pompoms was priceless!
I'll blog about something better as soon as inspiration strikes me.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Satan's Sale
The kids have run off with my Aunt and Uncle to visit my Grandfather for brunch.
Gram's off at church bathing in absolution.
I'm all alone in a very quiet house finishing off my pot of Starbuck's Verona blend I received compliments of B&N with my 15 book order. Strong, and caffienny, but good. Very good. I brewed it a half hour ago when I realized the pot was empty and I was alone, and faced with the daunting prospect of another day of Satan's Sale. The store was given extra man hours yesterday to hang new signs, which we didn't ever receive enough of, so I agreed to stay on for a double because money is good and family isn't always so pleasurable. Yes, I know, evasive, but I put in my reqired hours when I got home, as I scarfed down hineese and tried to prop my eyelids open long enough to be considered sociable.
Now, I'm ignoring Jaye's well intended advice and chugging away at Verona in preparation for today's open to close shift.
Already the caffiene is speeding up my drive, slowing down the world. Everything needs to be faster, louder, more vibrant - but the house remains stubbornly silent, miles away from even a silent movie.
I saw a silent movie a few weeks ago. It was called the Circus. It was much better than I had expected, and I did expect to enjoy it, if not for more than a cultural experience. It actually had better humor than modern flicks, until the end. The end was desperately sad and made me want to weep. All that much more so because of the silence, against the musical backdrop, I would never hear the character sob, solidifying his aloneness.
Anywho, I'll bet you're wondering about Satan's Sale! We received an e-mail (the store) yesterday morning about a sale for "The Holiday weekend, and beyond." (To Infinity - AND BEYOND!) We have no idea when this sale ends, but all of us loathe the fact it ever started. Everything in our store is $7.98 or less. With Satan's Sale, you can get 5 skirts or womens shorts for $19.99, 5 kids short or long sleeve tees, or three short or long sleeve mens or short sleeve women's shirts, all $19.99. When we ring up 3 shirts, the sale adjusts the price of each to $6.66.
Whose bright fucking idea was this?
To make matters even more interesting, when testing the sale before store hours, the computer went whacko. It froze up and the mouse started moving around on it's own. We were on the phone with IT for the better half of an hour, Lisa, the manager, cussing the entire time and ranting his ignorance each moment she was on hold (and some moments she wasn't).
Lisa said, "I'm allowed to cuss, we're not open yet. I'd never heard her cus before, and apparently she avoids it because once she starts, she can't stop. After the store was open, we had to keep reminding her so when Satan's Sale continued to screw up our comps.
Faced with another day of this anguish, all I can do is thank B&N for the pot of Verona I've managed to down in an hour & hope I'm not the only one on register today when I need to pee.
To my blogees - hope your weekend is fun & Satan Free, unless the association is through yoursefl, in which case, live it up!
I'll be back on Monday with more tales of horror from the Sale of Satan (sounds like Son of Sam, maybe I'll get to star in a made for TV movie - look for me on prime time).........(I wish I had time to make more Verona)
Gram's off at church bathing in absolution.
I'm all alone in a very quiet house finishing off my pot of Starbuck's Verona blend I received compliments of B&N with my 15 book order. Strong, and caffienny, but good. Very good. I brewed it a half hour ago when I realized the pot was empty and I was alone, and faced with the daunting prospect of another day of Satan's Sale. The store was given extra man hours yesterday to hang new signs, which we didn't ever receive enough of, so I agreed to stay on for a double because money is good and family isn't always so pleasurable. Yes, I know, evasive, but I put in my reqired hours when I got home, as I scarfed down hineese and tried to prop my eyelids open long enough to be considered sociable.
Now, I'm ignoring Jaye's well intended advice and chugging away at Verona in preparation for today's open to close shift.
Already the caffiene is speeding up my drive, slowing down the world. Everything needs to be faster, louder, more vibrant - but the house remains stubbornly silent, miles away from even a silent movie.
I saw a silent movie a few weeks ago. It was called the Circus. It was much better than I had expected, and I did expect to enjoy it, if not for more than a cultural experience. It actually had better humor than modern flicks, until the end. The end was desperately sad and made me want to weep. All that much more so because of the silence, against the musical backdrop, I would never hear the character sob, solidifying his aloneness.
Anywho, I'll bet you're wondering about Satan's Sale! We received an e-mail (the store) yesterday morning about a sale for "The Holiday weekend, and beyond." (To Infinity - AND BEYOND!) We have no idea when this sale ends, but all of us loathe the fact it ever started. Everything in our store is $7.98 or less. With Satan's Sale, you can get 5 skirts or womens shorts for $19.99, 5 kids short or long sleeve tees, or three short or long sleeve mens or short sleeve women's shirts, all $19.99. When we ring up 3 shirts, the sale adjusts the price of each to $6.66.
Whose bright fucking idea was this?
To make matters even more interesting, when testing the sale before store hours, the computer went whacko. It froze up and the mouse started moving around on it's own. We were on the phone with IT for the better half of an hour, Lisa, the manager, cussing the entire time and ranting his ignorance each moment she was on hold (and some moments she wasn't).
Lisa said, "I'm allowed to cuss, we're not open yet. I'd never heard her cus before, and apparently she avoids it because once she starts, she can't stop. After the store was open, we had to keep reminding her so when Satan's Sale continued to screw up our comps.
Faced with another day of this anguish, all I can do is thank B&N for the pot of Verona I've managed to down in an hour & hope I'm not the only one on register today when I need to pee.
To my blogees - hope your weekend is fun & Satan Free, unless the association is through yoursefl, in which case, live it up!
I'll be back on Monday with more tales of horror from the Sale of Satan (sounds like Son of Sam, maybe I'll get to star in a made for TV movie - look for me on prime time).........(I wish I had time to make more Verona)
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Supa Short Story #5
The moon gazed down in anticipation with its Cheshire cat grin as her bare feet padded across the cement. Crickets chirred against the deeper reverberations of the tree frogs in a din that covered the soft swoosh of the beach towel sliding from her shoulders.
Toes curled over the edge of the pool, getting a feel for the chill of the water by the breeze lapping off its surface. The summer day, in all its languid complacency, had nearly suffocated her. She was rarely up for dawn, but still sensed the length of the day in the perfunctory motions of the wildlife, luxuriating in siestas come midday. Also in the anxiety of the night creatures, waiting for their short shift to start.
Her body slid beneath the surface of the water like a sword sliding home to the hilt in its scabbard with only a whisper of power. Ripples danced in the moonlight, a private disco for fireflies to commune over.
Halfway across the pool, she surfaced, gleaming and pure from the chlorine baptism. Her hair spread around her in the almost complete circle shape of a lillypad, the smooth brown appearing black against her pale skin.
The moon paints her as she swims, adding sparkle to her eyes, emphasizing to smooth curves and dark hollows. Her nipples are hard beads in the cool water. A turn reveals the curve of a bottom, a stroke the size of a breast.
This is her world, swimming laps past midnight. Alone with her thoughts, serenaded by frogs and crickets, even bats sing to her, although she can't hear them as they spin their aerobics above her. The day and her life wash away in the pale blue chemicals. All that matters is her stroke, keeping the rhythm, floating on her back while the stars peek in, her far away voyeurs.
The world can wait, with the big fluffy towel for both comfort and protection. The little night songs others call silence are soothing her, and the moon is grinning like a knowing friend. Hair flowing around her, spreadeagle on her back, naked to the world as though she's nothing to hide - she smiled back.
Toes curled over the edge of the pool, getting a feel for the chill of the water by the breeze lapping off its surface. The summer day, in all its languid complacency, had nearly suffocated her. She was rarely up for dawn, but still sensed the length of the day in the perfunctory motions of the wildlife, luxuriating in siestas come midday. Also in the anxiety of the night creatures, waiting for their short shift to start.
Her body slid beneath the surface of the water like a sword sliding home to the hilt in its scabbard with only a whisper of power. Ripples danced in the moonlight, a private disco for fireflies to commune over.
Halfway across the pool, she surfaced, gleaming and pure from the chlorine baptism. Her hair spread around her in the almost complete circle shape of a lillypad, the smooth brown appearing black against her pale skin.
The moon paints her as she swims, adding sparkle to her eyes, emphasizing to smooth curves and dark hollows. Her nipples are hard beads in the cool water. A turn reveals the curve of a bottom, a stroke the size of a breast.
This is her world, swimming laps past midnight. Alone with her thoughts, serenaded by frogs and crickets, even bats sing to her, although she can't hear them as they spin their aerobics above her. The day and her life wash away in the pale blue chemicals. All that matters is her stroke, keeping the rhythm, floating on her back while the stars peek in, her far away voyeurs.
The world can wait, with the big fluffy towel for both comfort and protection. The little night songs others call silence are soothing her, and the moon is grinning like a knowing friend. Hair flowing around her, spreadeagle on her back, naked to the world as though she's nothing to hide - she smiled back.
TTT!
Someone STOLE my SPERM!!!!!!
At first, I was deeply upset, so sad I didn't even feel like eating the cereal I'd just covered in milk, and I always feel like eating cereal. Now I'm pissed. Still sad, but pissed is taking over, since sad accomplishes nothing, but pissed goes a long way towards vengeance.
Yesterday afternoon, I spent some time chillin by the spermbox after I cleaned out the pool. I was still kinda down over losing two spermzillas earlier this week, but I was glad to have my 5 sperm & 3 Spermzillas left and doing well.
This morning, I looked out onto the deck to find the spermbox missing. At first I panicked, then saw it had just been down two steps. I figured Gram had moved it & was stepping out to check on my sperm when I saw the spermbox was empty!
No Sperm, no water, not even any algae residue. This wasn't the work of some starving raccoon, someone took the lid off my spermbox, dumped it, and put the lid back on. That's the only way I can figure there's not any algae left. If a raccoon had tipped the spermbox over, there would be green goo left in the box, and on the steps.
The steps were dry, the box was empty, and most upsetting of all, one of my poor Spermzillas was laying on the step, shriveled dry under the sun.
I MISS MY SPERM!
and I WANT VENGEANCE!!!!!
I have no idea who the Sperm haters are, but it's become entirely too obvious there is a local faction of the TTT, Tadpole Terminating Troupe. I haven't seen them show themselves yet, but I'll know them when they're standing on my lawn in wetsuits throwing buckets of water at idolic symbols.
I really miss my sperm. All the sperm that were left in the pool have died from the chemicals that were dumped in it last weekend. I considered going down to the creek and fishing out some tadpoles, but I probably shouldn't since I don't know who's killing them.
I'm so upset over this. As much as I joke about the Spermzillas, I was really looking forward to watching them grow legs. My neighbor had a tadpole in his fish tank one year when I was little, but it disappeared before it reached amphibianhood, we think his cat ate it.
Next week, I'm putting the sperm box out without anything in it and seeing who comes around to cause trouble. Bastard sperm killers! Not that killing sperm is a crime, but I'll nail em for trespassing at least!
At first, I was deeply upset, so sad I didn't even feel like eating the cereal I'd just covered in milk, and I always feel like eating cereal. Now I'm pissed. Still sad, but pissed is taking over, since sad accomplishes nothing, but pissed goes a long way towards vengeance.
Yesterday afternoon, I spent some time chillin by the spermbox after I cleaned out the pool. I was still kinda down over losing two spermzillas earlier this week, but I was glad to have my 5 sperm & 3 Spermzillas left and doing well.
This morning, I looked out onto the deck to find the spermbox missing. At first I panicked, then saw it had just been down two steps. I figured Gram had moved it & was stepping out to check on my sperm when I saw the spermbox was empty!
No Sperm, no water, not even any algae residue. This wasn't the work of some starving raccoon, someone took the lid off my spermbox, dumped it, and put the lid back on. That's the only way I can figure there's not any algae left. If a raccoon had tipped the spermbox over, there would be green goo left in the box, and on the steps.
The steps were dry, the box was empty, and most upsetting of all, one of my poor Spermzillas was laying on the step, shriveled dry under the sun.
I MISS MY SPERM!
and I WANT VENGEANCE!!!!!
I have no idea who the Sperm haters are, but it's become entirely too obvious there is a local faction of the TTT, Tadpole Terminating Troupe. I haven't seen them show themselves yet, but I'll know them when they're standing on my lawn in wetsuits throwing buckets of water at idolic symbols.
I really miss my sperm. All the sperm that were left in the pool have died from the chemicals that were dumped in it last weekend. I considered going down to the creek and fishing out some tadpoles, but I probably shouldn't since I don't know who's killing them.
I'm so upset over this. As much as I joke about the Spermzillas, I was really looking forward to watching them grow legs. My neighbor had a tadpole in his fish tank one year when I was little, but it disappeared before it reached amphibianhood, we think his cat ate it.
Next week, I'm putting the sperm box out without anything in it and seeing who comes around to cause trouble. Bastard sperm killers! Not that killing sperm is a crime, but I'll nail em for trespassing at least!
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Petey the Giraffe
A friend of mine mentioned Animal Spirit Guides in her blog today. So, I've decided to post the story of Petey, my Giraffe Spirit Guide.
Two years ago, I dreamt I had a pet giraffe. I kept him in the giant aviary cage at the local park (which had been torn down a few years before when the park was renovated). All of my friends loved Petey and everyone had an oval shaped blanket they could lay on top of Petey's back when they rode him around the park. Everyone's blanket was a different color, so when a lot of people rode on Petey's back at once, it looked like one big rainbow colored blanket on his back.
My blanket was purple.
I visited Petey every day and there was almost always a troupe of people with me. We'd let him out of the cage and hop on his back and I'd ask him a question. I went to Petey to ask him advice because he was very smart. He couldn't talk, but he could sing, so he made up little songs he'd use to give advice.
So we'd ride around the park on the giant rainbow pile of blankets on top of Petey's back as he sang us songs about leaving ass hole men, and following your dreams, and getting highlights put in your hair.
Funny thing is, I was not drunk or high or anything - I hadn't even eaten anything funny before I'd gone to bed that night. I'm just that strange.
So, a giraffe is my power animal. What's yours, and why?
Two years ago, I dreamt I had a pet giraffe. I kept him in the giant aviary cage at the local park (which had been torn down a few years before when the park was renovated). All of my friends loved Petey and everyone had an oval shaped blanket they could lay on top of Petey's back when they rode him around the park. Everyone's blanket was a different color, so when a lot of people rode on Petey's back at once, it looked like one big rainbow colored blanket on his back.
My blanket was purple.
I visited Petey every day and there was almost always a troupe of people with me. We'd let him out of the cage and hop on his back and I'd ask him a question. I went to Petey to ask him advice because he was very smart. He couldn't talk, but he could sing, so he made up little songs he'd use to give advice.
So we'd ride around the park on the giant rainbow pile of blankets on top of Petey's back as he sang us songs about leaving ass hole men, and following your dreams, and getting highlights put in your hair.
Funny thing is, I was not drunk or high or anything - I hadn't even eaten anything funny before I'd gone to bed that night. I'm just that strange.
So, a giraffe is my power animal. What's yours, and why?
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Stolen Sperm
After work today, I stopped at the Dollar Tree to buy something to keep the sperm in. I decided on this plastic shoe box, because I could cut the lid & make sort of a ramp for the sperm to get out once they get legs - that way I don't have to guess when they're ready to leave, they can decide for themselves.
I get home to transfer the black sperm & the Spermzillas into the shoe box thingy, and my tartar sauce glass is tipped over! It's empty, save for some lingering algae. There are no spermzillas, I looked around on the deck, even under the deck. Gram said she doesn't know what happened to them, but the men were here working on the pool today.
I've reached the conclusion that
THOSE BASTARDS STOLE MY SPERM!!!!!
Being men, they must've been jealous of my superior sperm. My Spermzillas obviously made them feel inferior. Spermzilla Kong is probably bigger than their dick, let alone their swimmers, so they apparently sought vengeance.
I have no idea where my poor Spermzillas are. I hope the guys threw them back into the pool so they didn't get eaten by a bird or something. I miss them. I still have 3 left, but one of them already has front and hind legs and will be leaving soon.
Poor Spermzillas. Maybe I could put out flyers;
LOST:
SPERMZILLAS
Answer to Contraceptive, and The Pill (or just Pill)
Yellowish-amber with brown freckles.
Small hind legs.
Dearly Missed!
I get home to transfer the black sperm & the Spermzillas into the shoe box thingy, and my tartar sauce glass is tipped over! It's empty, save for some lingering algae. There are no spermzillas, I looked around on the deck, even under the deck. Gram said she doesn't know what happened to them, but the men were here working on the pool today.
I've reached the conclusion that
THOSE BASTARDS STOLE MY SPERM!!!!!
Being men, they must've been jealous of my superior sperm. My Spermzillas obviously made them feel inferior. Spermzilla Kong is probably bigger than their dick, let alone their swimmers, so they apparently sought vengeance.
I have no idea where my poor Spermzillas are. I hope the guys threw them back into the pool so they didn't get eaten by a bird or something. I miss them. I still have 3 left, but one of them already has front and hind legs and will be leaving soon.
Poor Spermzillas. Maybe I could put out flyers;
LOST:
SPERMZILLAS
Answer to Contraceptive, and The Pill (or just Pill)
Yellowish-amber with brown freckles.
Small hind legs.
Dearly Missed!
Thursday, May 18, 2006
All the Queen's Men
I've yet to come across a Linda Howard book I haven't thoroughly enjoyed.
All the Queen's Men is the follow up to Kill and Tell. This book starts in Washington DC, but travels to France for some action while telling the story of John Medina, a character who was introduced in Kill and Tell, when I fell in love with him. All the Queen's Men has action, love, and enough turns to keep you guessing. Linda did a wonderful job with this book. I even grew to love the bad guy, Louis Ronsard.
Niema Burdock hasn't seen John Medina in five years, since they were on a mission together where Medina gave the order to end Dallas Burdock's life. Niema went into seclusion afterwards, giving up the adrenaline filled Black Ops work that had taken the life of her husband. When John Medina appears out of thin air to offer her a job, she flatly refuses...but John knows just what buttons to push in order to turn Niema on.
John has wanted Niema since the first time he saw her. He's not going to let a French arms dealer, a bullet filled chase, or even their own fake identities stop him from claiming her. He knows Niema wants him too, all he has to do is convince her. Sounds simple, but it may be his toughest mission yet.
Okay, I know I'm starting to sound all Hollywood-cheesy-movie-preview-drama with these, but I really love the books I ho, and I want yall to read them & support the awesome authors who bust ass to put these stories out. So go, read...now!
All the Queen's Men is the follow up to Kill and Tell. This book starts in Washington DC, but travels to France for some action while telling the story of John Medina, a character who was introduced in Kill and Tell, when I fell in love with him. All the Queen's Men has action, love, and enough turns to keep you guessing. Linda did a wonderful job with this book. I even grew to love the bad guy, Louis Ronsard.
Niema Burdock hasn't seen John Medina in five years, since they were on a mission together where Medina gave the order to end Dallas Burdock's life. Niema went into seclusion afterwards, giving up the adrenaline filled Black Ops work that had taken the life of her husband. When John Medina appears out of thin air to offer her a job, she flatly refuses...but John knows just what buttons to push in order to turn Niema on.
John has wanted Niema since the first time he saw her. He's not going to let a French arms dealer, a bullet filled chase, or even their own fake identities stop him from claiming her. He knows Niema wants him too, all he has to do is convince her. Sounds simple, but it may be his toughest mission yet.
Okay, I know I'm starting to sound all Hollywood-cheesy-movie-preview-drama with these, but I really love the books I ho, and I want yall to read them & support the awesome authors who bust ass to put these stories out. So go, read...now!
SPERMZILLAS!!!!! (part 2)
Today I: fixed a loose doorknob, rearranged the kitchen cabinets, fixed the pump for the fish pond, met a man about fixing the pool, cleaned out the pool, went shopping with the cat, cooked dinner, and started a new book.
The highlight of the day was, by far, cleaning out the pool. It was stinky, and messy, and hard, and a little chilly out, and I almost slipped and fell in - but it was totally worth it! I only managed to clean off the cover, which comes off tomorrow so I can clean out the bottom, but I've already managed a haul I'm quite proud of.
As of May 18th:
Black Sperm - 5
Chirping Tree Frogs - 2
Croaking Bull Frog - 1
Spermzillas - 5
Look on Gram's Face - PRICELESS
The first frog caught me by surprise, I was flipping the net inside out to dump the leaves & he leapt out and landed on my foot. I actually shrieked in shock - then went chasing after the little bugger with the net. He was the Croaker. I dumped him in the fish pond so he wouldn't scare the crap outta me again & had a good laugh watching the fish flee in terror.
I caught a dark chirper and a light chirper. They're lots of fun because they're small enough to fit in one hand, and when they realize they can't wriggle free, they start chirping & make your hand vibrate.
Both chirpers were flopped into the fish pond, which is the same shape as the pool, but probably 1/75th the scale. I've been told when the male tree frogs realize there's another male within so many yards, they'll start a battle of the band thing & try to out chirp the other. I got a kick outta the tree frogs at either end of the 4ft kidney-shaped fish pond, chirping so log the neighbors might lose sleep tonight. I'm used to it, since the pool is in the back yard, but the pond is in the side yard, closer to the Clarks.
I caught five Spermzillas! None of them are quite as big as the one I saw the first sighting, but I have high hopes for next week when I get around to skimming out the bottom of the pool. Four of my Spermzillas have hind legs and one has both hind and front, but still a long tail. None of my black sperm have legs and I'm wondering what's taking them so long...I'm also realizing I forgot to put the spermzillas in a bigger jar when I was done cleaning the pool and they're still sitting in an old jar on the back porch that still has the tartar sauce label stuck to it. I'll have to do something about that tomorrow before I leave for work. Maybe I can pick up a cheap little terrarium at the Dollar Store tomorrow - at least a cheap fish bowl.
Best part of the day, Gram came out to talk to me as I was finishing cleaning off the cover. One of the chirpers started up and she said, "Oh, look at that! There's a frog in the fish pond." She had an air of wonder and awe in her voice. She was delighted to see a frog in her fish pond. I replied, "Yeah, there are three, actually."
"Next time I have money to spare, I'm buying you an aquarium so you can keep all these pets of yours in the bedroom."
I would actually love that, compared to having to keep them out on the back porch. If they were in my room, I'd see them every morning & know who had legs and who had arms and who lost their tail. I'm sure the sperm would like it too. They're probably developing a complex in the tartar sauce jar, thinking they're about to be eaten.
The highlight of the day was, by far, cleaning out the pool. It was stinky, and messy, and hard, and a little chilly out, and I almost slipped and fell in - but it was totally worth it! I only managed to clean off the cover, which comes off tomorrow so I can clean out the bottom, but I've already managed a haul I'm quite proud of.
As of May 18th:
Black Sperm - 5
Chirping Tree Frogs - 2
Croaking Bull Frog - 1
Spermzillas - 5
Look on Gram's Face - PRICELESS
The first frog caught me by surprise, I was flipping the net inside out to dump the leaves & he leapt out and landed on my foot. I actually shrieked in shock - then went chasing after the little bugger with the net. He was the Croaker. I dumped him in the fish pond so he wouldn't scare the crap outta me again & had a good laugh watching the fish flee in terror.
I caught a dark chirper and a light chirper. They're lots of fun because they're small enough to fit in one hand, and when they realize they can't wriggle free, they start chirping & make your hand vibrate.
Both chirpers were flopped into the fish pond, which is the same shape as the pool, but probably 1/75th the scale. I've been told when the male tree frogs realize there's another male within so many yards, they'll start a battle of the band thing & try to out chirp the other. I got a kick outta the tree frogs at either end of the 4ft kidney-shaped fish pond, chirping so log the neighbors might lose sleep tonight. I'm used to it, since the pool is in the back yard, but the pond is in the side yard, closer to the Clarks.
I caught five Spermzillas! None of them are quite as big as the one I saw the first sighting, but I have high hopes for next week when I get around to skimming out the bottom of the pool. Four of my Spermzillas have hind legs and one has both hind and front, but still a long tail. None of my black sperm have legs and I'm wondering what's taking them so long...I'm also realizing I forgot to put the spermzillas in a bigger jar when I was done cleaning the pool and they're still sitting in an old jar on the back porch that still has the tartar sauce label stuck to it. I'll have to do something about that tomorrow before I leave for work. Maybe I can pick up a cheap little terrarium at the Dollar Store tomorrow - at least a cheap fish bowl.
Best part of the day, Gram came out to talk to me as I was finishing cleaning off the cover. One of the chirpers started up and she said, "Oh, look at that! There's a frog in the fish pond." She had an air of wonder and awe in her voice. She was delighted to see a frog in her fish pond. I replied, "Yeah, there are three, actually."
"What?" Gone was the air of wonder and delight - in seeped the foul air of annoyance.
"I didn't want them to die when we start putting chemicals in the pool, so I put them in the fish pond.""Next time I have money to spare, I'm buying you an aquarium so you can keep all these pets of yours in the bedroom."
I would actually love that, compared to having to keep them out on the back porch. If they were in my room, I'd see them every morning & know who had legs and who had arms and who lost their tail. I'm sure the sperm would like it too. They're probably developing a complex in the tartar sauce jar, thinking they're about to be eaten.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Why Hallmark Would Never Hire Me
I've been with you from the start,
It's odd to think of us apart.
We've been around time and again,
You've introduced me to plenty of men.
But now my time is growing short,
You'll learn to get by without my sort.
I bore the fruit you did conceive,
Duty done - I'll take my leave.
It's been fun - all these years.
Don't you shed any tears.
But now and then - I hope you think of me,
After your hysterectomy.
- Love, Your Uterus.
My mom's having a hysterectomy Thursday. I looked all over Hallmark, but wasn't able to find a suitable card. Not that I expected them to have Shoebox cards reading "Hope you enjoy your last Mother's Day with a uterus!" but I was hoping for something with a fitting picture on the front that was blank inside.
No luck.
It's odd to think of us apart.
We've been around time and again,
You've introduced me to plenty of men.
But now my time is growing short,
You'll learn to get by without my sort.
I bore the fruit you did conceive,
Duty done - I'll take my leave.
It's been fun - all these years.
Don't you shed any tears.
But now and then - I hope you think of me,
After your hysterectomy.
- Love, Your Uterus.
My mom's having a hysterectomy Thursday. I looked all over Hallmark, but wasn't able to find a suitable card. Not that I expected them to have Shoebox cards reading "Hope you enjoy your last Mother's Day with a uterus!" but I was hoping for something with a fitting picture on the front that was blank inside.
No luck.
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