Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Christine II

More evidence my car is demon-possessed, like Christine:

It's always making sounds. Did you see that Paranormal Activity movie where the demon hardly does anything except hang around the house at night and make too much noise like your stoner roommate? Well, this is much worse than that.

The car has begun making exploding noises. It sounds like firecrackers are going off under my passenger seat. At first, I thought this was an entirely likely scenario, but I checked, and THERE ARE NO FIRECRACKERS UNDER THERE.

Now, the car squeals, bounces up and down, and does civil war reenactments under the passenger seat. It's haunted. It's a devil car.

I kind of like it, but it's really hard to focus and drive while constantly looking around to make sure the car hasn't burst into flames. Which I'm certain is the next step.

Maybe an exorcism.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Biiiiiiiiiig Spider!

Every fall, tarantulas migrate down from the mountain behind our house to the lake bed below. Tonight, I saw the first one of the season. Naturally, I stopped the car, jumped out and ran over to enjoy being horrified by the GIANT EFFING SPIDER.

It was the size of my palm, and outrageously hairy. It didn't seem to be in any hurry, and seemed unperturbed by my screams of disgust. But since it didn't have eyebrows or lips, I admit it was hard for me to accurately read its facial expressions.

I tried to take a picture with my phone. It was difficult to focus, though, because I couldn't stop dancing around, screaming "ew ew ew." As a result, many of the photos are blurry.

I'm glad I got to see it. It was a thrill, and it's always fun to interact with nature by screaming at it in horror. Judging by the look in his eight little eyes, and the smirk on his venom-dripping, blood-soaked mandibles, I think he enjoyed it, too.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

jazzy bmx

I'm the worst blogger. I just don't have anything to say. But check this out:

Outside my office window right now, there's a little grade school boy sport-riding a jazzy up and down the street. Somewhere, there's an old lady who's fallen and can't get up.

Oh, I see his poor old grammaw slumped over on her porch swing. I can't tell if she's watching him abuse her jazzy, or if she's having a stroke. Someone at Medicare would probably be interested in this patent abuse of taxpayer dollars. I recommend, nay, demand the death panels for this lady.

OMG, he just popped a little wheelie. He's got a buddy on a little bike, and they seem to have formed a little bicycle/jazzy gang. They're terrorizing the neighborhood. How did this happen?

I'm so happy right now.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Mouse Update, or Deadmau5

Sadly, both mouselets quickly shuffled off this mortal coil. But at least they had some delicious snacks before they expired.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Mouse House

It is my custom, upon returning home from work, to first tend to the animals. I feed the horses, goats, chickens, dogs, then cats. Our unfinished basement functions as a feedroom for these creatures, and tonight when I entered said feedroom, I saw something new.

A tiny baby mouse was sitting, frozen with fear, in the center of the room, and was being menaced by Monkey. Even though I know they're vermin, and teeming with disease, I have a soft spot for mice. Especially baby mice. So I chased Monkey off, and scooped the little mouselet into a plastic feed bucket. While I considered what to do next, I added some scratch grains to the bucket, to see if little Mickey was hungry. He was ravenous, and watching him eat made me realize I love him and have to raise him to adulthood, so I can release him outdoors and sing "Born Free" as he scampers off to meet some lady mice.

Later tonight, David found Mickey's brother in the same place, being menaced by Leo. I think it's nice that they have each other for company. They're safely installed in our laundry room now, still in the bucket, but now with pine shavings, delicious food, bedding and water. They look happy. I envision a time, once they're grown and out on their own, when we'll meet again. Probably I'll encounter them eating my crackers or pooping in my cutlery drawer, but I'll be happy to see them.

David won't, though. He still hates those meeses to pieces.

Friday, April 24, 2009

Woodland Critter Riot

Here on the farm, I'm a favorite of our animals. Basically, I'm a walking food dispenser. You know how on the cartoons, when someone is really hungry, they'll look at another person and see a roast chicken? I think when the farm animals look at me, they see a giant bag of oats. They expect treats when they see me, and they're rarely disappointed.


Recently, we ran out of the goats' oats and scratch grains for the chickens. We were on vacation, and our pet sitter was diligent in following my instructions to "give the goats and chickens grain for treats if you want to." And you know how it is the week after vacation...you're getting caught up on laundry, cleaning, unpacking...so grain-shopping can fall by the wayside.

Well, apparently, there's only so much my animals are willing to take.

It started innocently. The chickens followed me around, clucking to each other eagerly, looking at me expectantly, then standing by the back door, crestfallen, as I left them treatless. But too soon, it escalated into something much uglier. One day, Jezebel the goat rammed the back door as I was going back inside. She forced her way into the basement with me, and demanded to know where the grain had gone. I had to lure her back out with an empty bucket. This was a blatant lie, and I knew I'd pay for this subterfuge. I just didn't know how dearly I would pay.

The next time I went out to feed, I was prepared. I had finally purchased grain for both the goats and the chickens. I admit that when I looked through the glass door, I was a bit nervous about the scene I observed. There they were, seven chickens and two goats, lined up and glaring at me through the window. I swear, some of the chickens had their wings folded over their chests and were tapping their feet impatiently. Their anger was apparent, but surely they'd forgive me once they saw I'd finally brought their grain....

But no. As soon as I walked out the door, I was attacked. Surrounded by outraged goats and chickens. They circled me, eyeing me angrily, muttering to themselves. It reminded me of a scene from Grease, only both gangs were after me and there was no singing to lighten the mood. The goats approached, and, essentially, tried to climb me. I don't know how else to describe it. They stood on their hind legs, and tried to climb their way up to where I held the oat bucket. A riot erupted. The chickens began jumping up, trying to snatch the grains out of my hands. It was like something out of a Hitchcock movie, and I immediately regreted not capturing it on film for the You Tubes.

I'm sure you'll be relieved to hear I wasn't badly hurt. I was covered in dirt and hoofprints, and got a couple of bruises on my legs from where the goats were able to get a foothold, but I'm fine now. I'm also very glad to report that something good came out of all this. Once the riot began to wind down, I realized I could essentially choreograph the goats' and chickens' moves to follow the grain bucket. Now, instead of a woodland critter riot, we have a dance troupe. And they're quite good.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Training Day

Locked in a windowless room with a bunch of lawyers. It's my employer's annual 2-day long training, and it is draining my will to live. I want to love my job, but it's making it hard. I think my job wants me to break up with it.
First of all, it's hotter than hell in here, and these gasbags are sucking all the air out of the room. And, to add insult to injury, there are no refreshments, and although lunch is provided, it's from the craptastic courthouse cafeteria and we're required to eat it in this fiery hell closet of a training room while some blowhard yammers on.
I am willing to acknowledge that a lot of the trouble I have with training is entirely due to my unmedicated ADD. But this sucks.
I wish there were scented markers. At my previous employer, we had scented markers, and the cinnamon one even tasted good!
I've been told I have a bad attitude, but I don't think that's true. All I want is some scented markers.