Friday, August 31, 2012
Now, if I ever get the damn car back (yes it's STILL at the garage), I'll be all set.
And in other news, I stumped those damn deer!
First, I tired mixing up some home-made deer repellent and spraying it on the plants. Which evidently was the equivalent of adding salad dressing, because it did not deter the deer.
They were all, like, "nom nom nom ..... mmmmMMMMMmmmmm ... what is that piquant little extra zing? It's deLIcious!" Dammit.
So I resorted to the less-picturesque but far more effective option:
Deer netting. From a few feet away, you can't even see it's there - you have to get right close up in order to see it. And it's keeping the flipping deer off of my hibiscus. Mission. Accomplished.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Yeah, I'm old.
And despite the fact that I have nine million things to do right now, and have already shoved a lot of stuff plumb off my to-do list because I simply DO NOT HAVE THE TIME (sorry, cookies for the bake sale - no can do), I just spent a chunk of time tracking down that song on Youtube.
Oh, that song.
"I just can't find the answers to the questions that keep running through my mind ... Baby - isn't it time?"
Yeah, time for me to get my ass in gear. Jeez.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Goddam m*therf*cking c*cks*cking KIA. *kicks tires violently*
At least - at least! - I can keep the loaner. But taking a look at the calendar, three days means that the parts will get to the local dealership on Friday. What TIME on Friday, I do not know. And then the garage has to get the parts from the dealership, and INSTALL the parts, which ... it may not get done on Friday, especially considering it's the Friday of a holiday weekend. And - AND! - there is a big adoption event this weekend, and I was supposed to haul all kinds of crap to the venue Friday and Saturday using my roomy Kia, which currently sits at the garage, waiting for parts.
I know I need to calm down. It's just ... I can handle the car breaking down. I can handle paying a three-hundred-and-fifty dollar repair bill. *gulp* But to have to wait THREE DAYS for the flipping PARTS?
That shit ain't right.
And yes, I looked into it. Kia is as much of a dick about parts as Saturn was - you can't just run down to Advanced Auto and pick up some generic aftermarket stuff. You've gotta order the stuff FROM KIA, and of course, there is no Kia warehouse anywhere near here, so they've gotta ship it to the flippin' DEALER, and then the mechanic has to go pick it up from the goddam dealership, and
... stopping now.
The world will not end because my car is in the shop. All will be well, and I need to count my blessings and shut up.
I managed to limp it in to the nearest garage this morning, and they agreed to squeeze me in and take a look at it, and they even gave me a loaner! Who DOES that?! It's a beatermobile, but still. I love going to a new garage - they treat first-time customers like royalty because they want you to keep coming back. The gouging doesn't usually start until the second or third visit, so I should be good. *fingers crossed*
Wish me luck!
Monday, August 27, 2012
But this solicitation gave me pause, because it was for an individual. A local high school student who wants to go to a one-month art-school program and is raising money for expenses. She wanted everybody to leave cans at the end of their driveways on a certain date so she could take them and cash them in.
I ... don't know. I mean, if it was a fundraiser for a local kid who had cancer or something, OF COURSE. But a high school junior who wants to attend a special art-school program? Raising money door-to-door? Without, like, selling candy bars or something? Just, "Give me your cans! Because!"
Call me a curmudgeon, but it just seems wrong. For one thing, I live in a well-off school district. It's not like it's some kid from the projects or something. Maybe little princess should ask daddy to sell some stocks or something instead. Or go get a damn job at McDonald's. Yeah, how about you work for the money, honey? And second, this feels vaguely like the firemen with their damn BOOTS at the INTERSECTIONS, which I also despise. DO NOT SHOVE YOUR BOOT IN MY CAR WINDOW, FIREMAN. I WILL CUT YOU.
Holy crap, it sure is Monday, isn't it? Get off my lawn.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Six years ago today, I started this blog. Nineteen hundred posts ago.
Six years ago:
Rocky was still alive.
I lived in an apartment building.
I was driving a Saturn. Aye-yi-yi.
I smoked. A LOT.
I hadn't met any of you guys.
I wonder what my life will look like, six years from now? Hard tellin'. Stick around and let's find out.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Because does this scream "Vintage Vixen", or does it not? And even though her personal style is not my personal style, she's reminded me that it's okay to HAVE a personal style, so this little number will make me smile every time I see it hanging in my closet.
And who knows? Maybe on one of my "oh-screw-the-world" days, I'll actually wear it.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
I wish Future-Me had told Then-Me not to marry that boy just because I was worried I'd end up alone.
I wish Future-Me had told Then-Me to go ahead and go to the community college, even if it wasn't as prestigious as the Ivy League schools my guidance counselor had told me I could get into. Dad wouldn't pay for Ivy League, but he would have paid for community college. I cut off my damn nose to spite my face, right there.
I wish Future-Me had told Then-Me to start The Runt on the heart meds.
I wish Future-Me had told Teenage-Me to be nicer to my parents. Jeezus Christ, I was Kid #6. I could've cut them a break.
I wish Future-Me would tell Current-Me to stop beating myself up over being snotty to my parents as a teenager. We all did it.
I wish Future-Me would tell all the Me-s that it will all work out, one way or another. It always does.
What do you wish your Future-Me would tell you?
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
So! The weekend! I kind of thought I'd be in Florida, but my sister-in-law had been adamant in insisting she did not want a funeral service, and my brother was adamant that he didn't want anybody flying down, so ... I was home. I'm hopeful that at some point I will be spending time in Florida with my brother, but per his wishes, it's not going to be right how.
Saturday we had an adoption event, which ... oh lord, there's some entertainment value, right there. From the Russian immigrants who cannot understand why the cats are not free ("In Moscow, you just go out in the street and scoop one up! And then it's your cat!") to the woman who held kitten after kitten after kitten, wailing that "None of them love me!", to the woman who had her cats declawed "because I'm 74, and when I go, my son will be taking my cats, and he has leather sofas!" (OH PLEASE), and we couldn't figure out who she looked like, until I finally decided it was a cross between George C. Scott and Katherine Chancellor from The Young and The Restless ... well, it's never boring.
And then I had to go home and mow, which ... by this time of year, I am just OVER the whole mowing thing, you know? It's, like, grass, you can STOP GROWING NOW. YOU'VE GROWN ENOUGH THIS YEAR.
And Saturday night Soda brought in a bird, which appeared to be BRIGHT GREEN, and I'm all, Oh my God did he kill someone's PARAKEET?, until I realized that the bird actually had sprigs of leaves in its wings, which ... was it garnish? Was Soda auditioning for Master Chef? I have no idea.
And then! Sunday was Tinks' (approximate) birthday, so ham and chicken and catnip were enjoyed by all. And a good deal of time was spent in the backyard. And the neighbors' ten-year-old twin granddaughters WOULD NOT stop chasing the cats, until I finally yelled at them. No, I didn't use swear words, but yes, I yelled. Yeah, that's me, earning brownie points in the neighborhood.
And then, on one of those news shows on TV, a shocking expose revealing that ... carnival games are rigged! NO. I HAD NO IDEA.
So ... how was your weekend?
"A Republican Senate nominee found himself in hot water on Sunday for suggesting that instances of "legitimate rape" rarely results in pregnancy.
Rep. Todd Akin, a Republican who's locked in a hard-fought campaign in Missouri to unseat Democratic Sen. Claire McCaskill, was answering a question regarding his position on abortion rights in instances when a woman is a victim of rape.
"People always want to make it into one of those things — well, how do you slice this particularly tough ethical question," Akin said in an interview on KTVI-TV, video of which was circulated by the Democratic super PAC American Bridge.
“First of all, from what I understand from doctors, [pregnancy from rape] is really rare. If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down," Akin said. "
Yeah, that's right. My body can somehow differentiate between "legitimate rape" and other sex, and decide whether I get pregnant or not.
HAHAHAHAHAHAH oh wait that's not funny.
p.s. Thank you for your condolences. It means a lot.
Friday, August 17, 2012
She was a fine, funny woman who never had a bad word to say about anyone. After her mother got Alzheimer's, she brought her mother into her own home for several years, with all that entails, and never complained. She sure did enjoy a beer or two once in a while, and once she'd had a couple, oh lord, she could tell a story, but she was so soft-spoken you really had to lean in to listen. She had two different colored eyes - one blue and one green. She was always in a good mood - I never saw her angry or heard her raise her voice. She and my brother, her husband, raised a beautiful, caring daughter. My brother loved her dearly. I'm not sure how long they'd been married, but it must have been over forty years.
Good-bye, Diane. I will never be as fine a person as you were. And I'll miss you dearly and remember you fondly.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Tinks is a groomer. After he's done cleaning his own long, white fur, he'll grab whoever's closest for a little more bathtime.
Clean 'em up, Tinks.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
You can see how the water has eroded the rocks over the centuries:
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Now, in an inexplicable turn, I am becoming a fashion blogger for a day. Here is what I'm wearing to work tomorrow:
Yes, I pick out my outfits the night before. It saves time when I am inevitably running late in the morning. Now, I know this outfit is a little ... out there, but I'm getting bored with my work clothes lately, and it's time to mix it up a little. I have to say, a recent find and absolute inspiration is Vintage Vixen, who cares not one whit what others think about her personal style.
So! Turquoise and mixed prints it is. Yee-haw.
And now, all I can think about is doughnuts.
I had to run up to the grocery store and pick up a few things on my lunch break, and I actually stood in front of the doughnut case, staring, like a little kid in front of a toy store.
I didn't buy a doughnut. Oh, I thought about it. Hell, I thought about buying a DOZEN doughnuts. "For the office!" Yeah, right.
I mean, I could buy some doughnuts. It's not like it would break some cosmic rule if I ate a doughnut. After all, I had one on Saturday. But you know what? I'll bet you I could eat six doughnuts right now. One jelly-filled, one glazed, one creme-filled ... OH YUM. I'll bet I could give twelve doughnuts a run for their money right now. And again, so what? I could eat ten thousand calories worth of doughnuts RIGHT NOW and it wouldn't make a flip's worth of difference in the grand scheme of things.
It's just ... they're just empty food. Not much nutritional value. Pure sugar, practically. Sugar and fat and OH MY GOD THEY TASTE SO GOOD.
Hi. My name is RockyCat and I'm a doughnutaholic.
Bow tie ring $.99
Monday, August 13, 2012
Lately they've been upping the ante. There was "Little Rabbit Foo-Foo", or whatever the hell it's called, about a Southern family so language-impaired they had to close-caption it.
Tonight we have "United Bates of America", which appears to be a clone of The Duggars. Now I will be the first to admit, I do love The Duggars, because they're a fascinating mix of sweet, wholesome and batshit insane. I'm afraid that the Bates will just be a pale imitation.
And! Following the Bates tonight, we have "Big Tiny", or whatever the hell IT'S called, about some
Good ol' TLC. Single-handedly providing me with all the abysmal crap TV I could ever want to watch.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Is it a cat? That's a pretty good guess, around here. But no, no, it wasn't a cat ... at least it wasn't one of MY cats.
It's not really that unusual to have a cat visitor. I have a pet door, and it's not unheard of for neighborhood cats to pay a visit to my place from time to time, mostly to see how much food they can scarf out of my cats' bowls before I shoo them back out the pet door. So when I saw what looked like a cat, but not one of MY cats, at my bedroom door, it wasn't a huge surprise.
But no, it's not a cat. It's too big for a cat. And at this point, I'm desperately trying to struggle out of sleep, and fumbling for my glasses on the nightstand, and glad that I sleep with a nightlight (SHUT IT), because at least I can see a little bit.
Maybe it's a dog? Did one of the neighborhood dogs somehow get loose and get in the house? Geez, it doesn't really look like a dog ...
Okay, so I've got some of the fog cleared out of my head, and I've got my glasses on and at last I can finally see ...
HOLY SHIT IT'S A RACCOON.
Oh my God you guys, not just a RACCOON, but a GREAT BIG RACCOON, I'm guessing thirty pounds easy, and - TA-DA! I'M IN YOUR BEDROOM, LADY! OH HAI!
There is a RACCOON in my BEDROOM and I have NO IDEA WHAT TO DO. Tinks was about ten feet away from the raccoon, crouched down uneasily, and at this point I'm trying to figure out how the hell I'm gonna get the GIANT RACCOON out of my house, and
the raccoon started shuffling toward the living room.
I cautiously got out of bed and started following it, keeping in mind that even a raccoon is a WILD ANIMAL and can do some damage to your ass if it so chooses. I actually passed up an opportunity to move a snapping turtle out of the road on Saturday, because a snapper will TAKE A FINGER OFF, NO QUESTION, if you screw around with one, and I could not see any way of that scenario ending well, so I left the snapper rescue for one of the many, many road bicyclists out on that road on Saturday, and ... where was I? Oh yeah ...
THERE IS A GIANT RACCOON. IN MY HOUSE.
And here is where I thank my lucky stars, because that raccoon shuffled through the living room, through the kitchen, and right back to the pet door.
Where there was a nervous moment because I swear, I was not sure that that raccoon was gonna FIT back through that pet door, but
out he went.
Dudes. DUDES. I had a GIANT RACCOON inside my house last night, and lived to tell the tale. Amen. And I swear to God, this shit only happens to me.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Every time I read the obit of someone who was younger than me, and who obviously accomplished a lot more with their life than I have managed to do with mine to date, it gives me pause.
Like, "Jeezus Christ, what the hell I am DOING with my life?"
Obviously I'm never gonna be Mother Teresa, and the odds of me finding a cure for cancer are not real good, but I would hate for my obit to read, " She ... drank a lot of beer. And she read lots of books! And she tried not to be overtly MEAN to anybody ..."
That's one of the reasons I started volunteering. To beef up my obit. Kind of like padding the old resume. And let's face it, I've got some work to do, because I spent most of my twenties and thirties and, hell, half of my forties pretty self-absorbed.
Time to get a move on!
A few weekends ago, I went to the local flea market. I know, I KNOW! I talk all the time about how cheap I am, and then I go blow money at the flea market. Go figure. At least I'm not betting it on the ponies.
But! I picked up a cat carrier for four bucks, and I really needed one, seeing as how I just recently came to the realization that I now had three cats and only two carriers. Yeah, I'm a little slow on the uptake. In my defense(!), the whole three-cat thing IS taking a while to sink in.
And! I got three CDs for five bucks. One of which is Celebrity Skin by Hole, which I'm pretty sure I already have, except you know how you're standing there in front of the used-CD booth, and suddenly you can't remember which CDs y0u already own? Yeah, that happens to me, too. But I needed a third CD to round out the three-for-five deal, so I may now own twice as much Courtney Love as anybody ought to have. Sue me.
And, let's see, I've been on a seahorse yen lately, so I picked up a tacky little seahorse statue for a dollar, which I guess everybody came out even on, 'cause when I took it home and flipped it over, it had a Dollar Tree sticker on it. Vintage! ha.
And then, and then, there was this little statue of Mary, at the booth of the dude who sells the animal pelts, and I circled around it a couple of times and picked it up and it weighed, like, twenty pounds, so I'm thinking, "doorstop!", and the dude says that it's bronze (sure it is) and he's asking thirty bucks. I said, "oh, that's nice, it's a pretty little statue," and started to move on, and the dude's, like, "make an offer!" and this is why I'm terrible at flea markets, because I said, "Nah, I can't offer anywhere near that," and the dude's, all, "come on, MAKE AN OFFER! Go ahead!" So I blurted out, "ten bucks," and he said, "Gimme the money" and that's how I came home with a bronze (Like I am so sure) Mary doorstop.
I kind of thought I got hosed on the deal, but a quick ebay search shows similar items going for anywhere between thirty and seventy bucks, so maybe not so much. Then again, that's what they're being OFFERED FOR on ebay, I have no idea if anybody's actually SELLING any at those prices, so who knows.
Such is the flea market. *sigh* I love that place.
Thursday, August 09, 2012
I think my butt is shrinking.
I've never been particularly well-endowed in the back end area, and as I get older, I find I need more and more padding in my chairs to sit comfortably.
Even if I've been sitting in a padded chair, it still feels like I've been sitting on a metal folding chair. Ouch! My butt aches!
Yet another consequence of aging that NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT. What the hell else am I gonna find out as I get older? Are my toes going to fall off as I age? Are my eyes going to cross? I'D LIKE A LITTLE ADVANCE WARNING, DAMMIT.
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
1. The Story of Beautiful Girl by Rachel Simon. Novel by the author of "Riding the Bus with My Sister". It's about two mentally disabled people who fall in love - good.
2. Velva Jean Learns to Fly by Jennifer Niven - Novel about, well, a woman who learns to fly in the forties. Started out good but then bogged down. Didn't finish.
3. The Orchard by Adele Crockett Robertson - Memoir of a woman who tried to save a family farm during the Depression - good. She was one tough cookie.
4. We Thought You Would Be Prettier by Laurie Notaro - Humorous essays. Meh.
5. Land of a Hundred Wonders by Lesley Kagan - Novel about a mentally handicapped woman trying to solve a mystery. Oy. Did not finish.
6. The Big Rock Candy Mountain by Wallace Stegner - Semi-autobiographical novel about a family in the early 1900s - great big sprawler of a book. Interesting, but the lead character (the father) was pretty much a dick, and I didn't like the narrator (the son) much better.
7. All My Patient Have Tales by Jeff Wells - Memoir of a veterinarian - Lighthearted and interesting.
8. Oral History by Lee Smith - Novel about several generations of an Appalachian family - Interesting.
9. Mudbound by Hilary Jordan - Novel about a woman raising a family on a farm during the latter part of WWII. Okay.
10. Satan is Real - The Ballad of the Louvin Brothers by Charlie Louvin - I'd never even heard of the Louvin Brothers before I read this book, but the cover art drew me in. It's a memoir by a country-western/gospel singer who was big in the fifties - Really entertaining.
So! That's what I got. How about you - reading anything good?
Oh, and I broke down and bought 11/22/63, but all of the reviews are so good that I don't want to start it just yet - I might save it for my birthday IN NOVEMBER - ha - I am crazy.
I've been fostering a couple of kittens in my spare room, to give the FC (foster coordinator) a break while she prepared for and recovered from surgery. Some of the other volunteers have taken on extra fosters, too, to help out.
Last Wednesday was surgery day, so I checked facebook last Thursday morning to see how the FC made out, only to find an entry about three more kittens she had taken in that day.
And I really, really wanted to comment, "You're going the wrong way! You're supposed to adopt them OUT, not keep taking them IN!"
I then checked the website. The rescue group currently has seventeen kittens and nine adult cats we are trying to find homes for. Some of the kittens are starting to age out, meaning they are looking less like kittens and more like adult cats, and are thus much less likely to be adopted. Adoptions have been slow this summer, the group has taken in more cats than it can find homes for, and all of the shelters and rescues in the area are full.
And the FC just had surgery.
And she just took in three more kittens.
THIS is what makes me crazy about cat people. THIS is why rescues get overwhelmed and shut down operations, forcing other local groups to take on a sudden influx of cats when they are already full. THIS is what is wrong with rescue people: They don't know how to say no.
Look, I get it. What the hell are you SUPPOSED to do when somebody calls up and tells you they just found a box of two-week-old kittens by the side of the road? When you know that all of the other shelters and rescues are full? When you know that the kittens will probably be abandoned if you don't take them in? I get it. I do.
But I also know that a lot of the time when someone calls saying they "found" a litter of kittens, those kittens actually belong to them, because they never bothered to get their female cat spayed, and now they just want to unload the kittens. I know, too, that the FC currently has nine adult cats and several litters of kittens at her house. It's almost impossible to keep sick ones properly quarantined in that kind of situation, and when cats are overcrowded, Mother Nature has a way of taking care of that by sending down a nasty virus that kills off most of them.
That's horrifying, I know. I don't like to think about it, and I certainly don't wish it on anyone. But that's what happens when rescue situations get out of control. You don't hear about it, because it certainly isn't publicized, but it happens all the time, everywhere. Either disease sweeps through an overcrowded rescue, or the rescue head gets overwhelmed and closes up shop.
And it could happen here. Because the head of the rescue group doesn't know how to say no. And that makes me sad.
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Nope. Women's volleyball.
And I mean, I get it. Kind of. Women in bikinis.
I mean, obviously, NBC wouldn't be showing nine trillion hours of women's volleyball if it hadn't proven to be a money-maker. If it didn't bring in the ratings.
Yep, the kittens are still visiting while the FC recovers from her surgery. (And the day AFTER her surgery, she took in MORE KITTENS, which ... stay tuned for one pissed-off post, is what I'm sayin'.)
Ponyboy is CONVINCED that the food in the kitten room is the best food in the WORLD. (It's the exact same thing he gets in his own bowl, but he believes otherwise.)
Anybody want a couple of adorable tabbies? The rescue group's running a buy-one-get-one-free special! Get 'em while they're cute!
Monday, August 06, 2012
And also, frankly, at noon on Sunday, I'm more ready for breakfast than I am for lunch, and mom likes pancakes, so there ya go.
She speaks softly in a kind of stream-of-consciousness way these days, all, "... and there's a red one, and a blue one, and a yellow one! ... exit ... that sign says exit ... and there were birds! Big birds ... so then I told her, "No, YOU behave!," and we all laughed ... and there's another bird, over there ..."
And all the time, I'm cutting up her pancakes for her, 'cause she can't seem to grasp the mechanics of silverware anymore, and I'm putting the cream and sugar in her coffee and stirring it up, and I'm listening to her talk about birds and exit signs.
And I mean ... it is what it is. She once was one person, and now she's another person. And I am sure there are other people yet to come. I just hope that in the next phase, she can see the future or tell me some winning lottery numbers or something. Wouldn't that be cool?
Saturday, August 04, 2012
"I brought a treat over for your kitties!," she said.
"Oh, how nice!," I replied. "What is it?"
"Smoked salmon! I did some on the grill tonight, and B. and I couldn't eat it all, so I thought I'd bring the leftovers over for your kitties!"
And she handed me a foil-lined paper plate, with about a half a pound of grilled smoked salmon on it.
"Wow, L.," I said. "Are you sure you won't eat it for lunch tomorrow?"
"No, no," she said. " I want your kitties to have it!"
Man, I couldn't help myself. "Is it okay if the cats and I share?"
"Whaaaaat?," she asked. "It's just leftover salmon! But sure, sure, enjoy it with your kitties!"
Thankfully, the cats agreed to share with me. And that was some damn fine salmon.
Friday, August 03, 2012
And in other news, my ankle STILL hurts. I've decided that I've been the victim of some kind of bizarre apian revenge plot, wherein this year's crop of yellowjackets saved up all of their venom for me, in retribution for killing their ancestors two years ago. Karma's a bitch.
Now. On to business. I usually drive a busy highway to work, but that road has been under construction all summer and will be for the foreseeable future, so I've been driving a quiet little two-lane rural road most of the way in. The speed limit on this road is 30 mph, and you really don't want to go much faster than that, because there's lots of curves and hills and deer standing in the middle of the road that you have to honk your horn at until they mosey off.
Oh, and it's double-solid-yellow-line all the way, meaning no passing. But the road's only a few miles long, meaning you're on it for, like, ten minutes, max, so no biggie, right?
Wrong. At least half of the time, there's some asshole in a giant pickup truck right off my back bumper, going apoplectic because I'm *only* doing 40, and he's got something important to get to GOD DAMMIT!
Whenever I can, I pull over to let Joe Asshole go get to his very important thing, which he then arrives at an entire THIRTY SECONDS SOONER because I got out of his way. But these f*cktards are giving me a headache, and the other day, when I was on my way home with some dipsh*t in a giant SUV so close behind me he was practically on top of me, I started thinking up possible bumperstickers, to give the assholes some reading material while they were right on my bumper. At first I thought of,
BACK OFF, ASSHOLE
But that seemed a little ... hostile. And not suitable for viewing by children. Maybe sweeten it up a little?
BACK OFF, BUTTERCUP
BACK OFF, SWEETIE-PIE
Maybe go the humorous route?
BACK OFF - I don't know you that well
BACK OFF - I'm just not that into you
BACK OFF - Don't make the nun get out her ruler
That last one's my personal favorite, but I don't know if Joe Neanderthal in his Dodge Denali would get the joke.
I don't know - what do you guys think? Any ideas?
Thursday, August 02, 2012
Two summers ago, I mowed over a nest of yellowjackets. It hurt.
Last night? It happened again.
And I will tell you what, those stings HURT. I got nailed on the ankle last night, and it STILL hurts this morning. I slept with an ice pack on it last night. Call the waaaaaambulance. Sheesh.
Unlike last time, when I ninja-d up before attacking the nest, last night I just waited for dark, grabbed the can of napalm from the garage, and emptied that sucker into the hole.
Goddam motherf*ckers sting ME? I ANNIHILATE your asses.