Random thoughts and links, part 112

So we've been munching away on the Spouse's garden harvest this summer. Plenty of yellow squash and cucumbers. And now the peppers and tomatoes are coming along...

But a few weeks ago, the Spouse noticed something odd on one of the vines. He pointed it out to me one day while we were sitting on the deck (now raccoon-poop free), admiring the garden. I ran down to the ground to discover this small round green thing growing on one particular plant.

Now all vining plants look pretty much alike. Squash, cucumbers, melons, gourds... they all have these alien-like vines that take over your yard and sprout huge, elephant ear-like leaves and large, yellow flowers. These flowers eventually turn into tasty veggie goodness.

But now we have this large, round green thing. So I was thinking it's a watermelon.

Which is really strange, since we didn't plant watermelon.

But there it is. And it's growing like big ol' cancer. It's the size of a basketball now. But something's happening.

It's turning orange.

Maybe it's a pumpkin, which would be weird, too, since we didn't plant any of those, either. I'm hoping that it's a simple a mistake as the wrong seed got tossed in the seek packet at the seed factory and that just happens to be the seed that turned into this huge fucking vine that's taking over the yard with this large, green/orange growth.

But I'm also haunted by scenes from "Invasion of he Body Snatchers."

Just a warning... if the Spouse suddenly wants me to sleep next to this thing, I'll have to kill him.

If it does not hatch into a body-snatching alien, and it does turn out to be something edible, I'll let yall know.

In the meantime, while we're watching the melon/pumpkin/pod thing continue to grow, here's da links:

Ya know, it might not be a pod monster, it could be a full-fledged demon.

Don't deny it. You know you're gonna try this the next time you're at the Mall.

I have just sucked several hours of your life away. How do you feel?

Not since Leatherface has a chainsaw been so entertaining.

But why take out zombies with a chainsaw when you could just take one out on a date?

Pole dancing gone wild. Awwwwwww yeeaaahhh...

If you're normal, you'll just giggle a little. If you wet your pants, you must be a graphic designer.

The Phantom Shitter

When we last left our heroine, she and her beloved hero were battling the Plague of Locusts:

Yes, you heard that correctly. The Spouse spotted it, I turned around and saw this:

We were dumbfounded. Our deck is on the second floor. Something had walked up the stairs, chosen this particular spot right underneath our kitchen window, and emptied its bowels.

Now we knew it wasn't our cat because he stays inside (altho his 'guard cat' qualities are now questionable since he did nothing to scare off the late night poopertrator). We deduced it wasn't a neighborhood cat because the poop was too big to be cat turdlings and the nearby catnip plant was untouched. We also figured it wasn't a dog because our entire backyard is fenced in, three sides of which are a 6 foot privacy fence.

What the hell? Some woodland critter came up on our deck and shit a big pile! Possibly a possum but more likely a raccoon. But why our deck? Why not the backyard, or someone else's deck for that matter.

I guess it's because all the other backyards surrounding ours have dogs. Perhaps the critter can concentrate better on the quiet peace of our deck, making his bowel movement more satisfying. We do have a nice, clear view of the night sky. Perhaps that makes his movements border on the spiritual.

Our theory on the raccoon was proven the very next morning. It was a cool enough night to leave our windows open. While I'm getting myself ready for work I hear something rummaging around in the Spouse's compost pile. I grab a flashlight and aim it directly down from the bedroom window, only to have a little furry masked face with glowing gold eyes stare me down.

I yelled for the Spouse and we both ran for the deck. Sure enough, a large raccoon goes scampering off to the far corner of our backyard, occasionally stopping to glance over his shoulder to make sure we aren't coming after him.

There was no poop on our deck. This time.

But for the next several mornings we were greeted by a nice steamy pile of raccoon shit. Sometimes it was very seedy. Seems the critter likes mulberries.

So now we have this phantom shitter what shows up sometimes between 11pm and 5am to take a dump on our deck. We have a gate at the bottom of the deck stairs, but closing that did no good. The critter climbed right over it. We see its little muddy footprints leading up to the latest pile of shit.

I even wedged our very large grill right into the corner. Didn't stop him. He either shat next to it or even climbed thru the bottom rack, wedged his little furry raccoon ass between the grill and the exterior house wall and let loose, leaving a nice streak on the aluminum siding.

Sometimes there's been two piles. One morning there was three. Either his colon is really active or he brought friends.

"Boys, you GOTTA to try this new shittin' place! I been comin' there for about a week or two and it RAWKS!"

I've been asking around about how to repel raccoons. One answer sounded logical enough to give it a shot: coyote urine. Apparently, besides kayaks, running shoes and rock-climbing gear, you can also get coyote urine at your local sporting goods store.

So off we went to our local sporting good store (that's named after a penis) and proceeded to the hunting supplies. We asked the guy behind the counter for coyote urine and (of course) he asked what for. When we told him to ward off raccoons, his illustrious answer was:

"Well why don' yew jist shewt'm?"

Now, in my head, I said, "Oh, yeah, Cooter, that's a swell idea! We'll just stay up all night long out on our deck with a shotgun and wait for the little fucker to show up for his nightly shit and blow his little mulberry-eating ass all over our yard. Brilliant!"

But instead, the Spouse and I eloquently explain that we don't have a gun and killing the animal is not an option. We don't want to hurt him. We just want him to go away and shit somewhere else.

But 'Cooter' and his pal, 'Skeeter,' at the penis-named sporting goods store's hunting section are no help. Altho they did offer another suggestion of using a trap to catch him. We have a trap, but if he's clever enough to figure out the gate at the bottom of the deck stairs, he's probably be smart enough to avoid the trap.

Another suggestion we got came from WasabiJohn. He said when he was a kid some raccoons got into his house and after they scared the critters off his dad had to clean up the raccoon poop with ammonia. Seems the ammonia kept them from coming back.

I mentioned the ammonia plan to my mom, who then suggested bleach. So I found a metal pan, put a large sponge in it and filled it with about a quarter inch of bleach and set it at the top of the deck stairs.

Four nights in a row I've done this. Four mornings in a row the Spouse has not had to clean raccoon shit off our deck. Clorox: is there anything it can't do? Well, ok, it can't restore the finish on an '89 T-bird, but dammit, it keeps the shitty raccoons away.

And we didn't have to shewt'm.

Random thoughts and links, part 111

So I had this thought the other day... Dining outside is called 'dining al fresco.' Why don't we have working al fresco?

It was earlier this week, the weather was beautiful and those of us stuck in Cube Farm Hell were lamenting our being inside instead of outside. It was then the thought came to me; why CAN'T we work outside? Just move our desktops and Macs outside, set up a large patio umbrella over us and viola. Or at least have some windows that open or install some French doors or something.

But then we'd have to deal with the natives. And the natives downtown can be quiet scary.

Speaking of scary, those space-alien looking things above have invaded our area something fierce. It's still quiet in downtown Loserville but once I venture home to exotic Fern Creek the noise is deafening. Imagine an invisible Mother Ship hovering over your house all day. After being outside for only a few minutes your eardrums start to vibrate.

And there's thousands, nay, millions of them out there. There's a constant halo of bugs hovering around all the tree tops. They've been smacking into the window as I type this. It's brutal.

So the invasion has begun; They're here, they're loud and apparently, they're tasty.

But if cicadas don't do it for ya, there's always bacon.

I did surprisingly good on this. Was it because A) most of my friends are geeks or B) I know WAY too much about serial killers?

Have fun navigating, and go green at the same time.

Cat yodeling... I'm glad to know that the Spouse and I weren't the only ones doing that...

Me want!!! Especially this one.

Nifty Mac tricks.

Forget cheaper gas or a thriving economy, this is the shit America needs.

Comfort for all of us graphic designs to know that A) other designers make mistakes and B) other designs are forced to do horrible Photoshopping, too.

Oh my, aren't Policemen interesting people?

No matter how much you hate your job, it could always be worse. Especially when caught for two angles.

Crash bang boom

Fellow blogger Lena made an excellent point yesterday that everyone’s music sucks when blasted into the general atmosphere, thereby disturbing drivers, pedestrians, homeowners, children, old people and pets.

She’s right. I don’t care if you’re playing my absolute favorite musician or my absolute favorite song. If I can still hear it and feel it from more than 20 feet away, you should be shaved, sterilized and destroyed, after your sound system is shot full of holes and then set on fire.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love music. Been jamming to it since my tenure in the womb. No shit. Mom has this great story about how I was kicking to the beat when Dad put on his Stones records. Been hooked ever since. Was an addict to radio; AM in the 70s, FM in the 80s. I don’t think I got any sleep from 1982 to 1987 because of MTV. That of course was back in the day when they played music videos and not some insipid programs about overly rich 20-somethings or has-been celebrities stuck in a house together.

I’m on my third iPod that’s filled with nearly 9000 songs and over 330 music videos. iTunes, Amazon and ear-X-tacy get a LOT of my money. Plus I’m constantly finding some oddball, out-of-production musical gems scattered around the net. So I have a lot of weird stuff on there.

I listen to it in the car, at home and at work. But I have a rule that if EVER something really awful, disturbing or unpleasant comes outta that thing, all someone has to do is speak up and I will gladly turn it down and/or skip ahead to the next song. I do NOT want to become a nuisance like the punk-ass troglodytes and their boom cars.

Ever since I moved out on my own I’ve had to deal with the stereo morons. Every apartment, every house, I’ve had to complain to someone about their fucking stereo blaring thru the floor, the ceiling, the wall or rattling the building off its foundation.

I was hoping that would stop once the Spouse and I bought our house in a nice, respectable neighborhood. And for the past 3 or so years it’s been peaceful. Until yesterday.

About a year ago some people moved into a house on the corner of our street. All seemed quiet until a few month ago when there seemed to be an increase in traffic and the number of vehicles parked in their driveway and in front of their house. My paranoia kicked in and I’ve been watching the activity down there. And that’s when I noticed to boom cars. Up until now, the cars would turn the boom down as they entered the street. And I can live with that.

But last night about 8 the Spouse and I were parked on the couch, reading our respective books when the booming started: BOOM da da boom. BOOM da da boom. In my head I sighed and trying to relax and stay focused on my reading while taking quick glances outside to see what was going on down there. There were four cars currently parked, one of which is a junker that never leaves. The second was a truck I had never seen before and a teen boy standing on the driver’s side talking to someone inside. The other two cars are in the driveway, one of which has its trunk and doors open.

Fuck. Great. Somebody down there has decided to serenade the entire neighborhood with their personal selection of melodies about bangin’ ho’s and poppin’ bro’s.

It wasn’t that loud. I mean no one is on the street, shaking their fist and yelling. The neighborhood Scooter Brigade of children are playing nonchalantly. The houses aren’t rattling off their foundation. But I can still hear it. And feel it.

Fifteen minutes pass and I’ve barely read a page. I get up and go to the bathroom. Even with the door closed I can still hear it. Fuck. I go to the office and sit in front of the iMac to check email. I can still hear it. Damn. I go back to the living room and try to read again. And I can still hear it. It’s now been going on for 45 minutes when I snap.

“All right. That’s it.” I storm off to the bedroom to grab some shoes and while I’m back there I can still hear it. That just adds fuel to my growing anger inferno. As I charge by the Spouse on my way out the front door I say, “Keep a look out and make sure I don’t get my ass shot while I’m down there.”

I blast across the front yard and onto the street. Two little girls from the Scooter Brigade see me and yell, “Hi! Hey, where are you going?” I didn’t even answer. My radar turns on as I stomp towards the guilty house and quickly deduces that the noise is not coming from the truck with the teenager standing next to it, but instead focuses in on the car with the open trunk and doors. Standing next to the car is an older lady talking to a pair of legs sticking out of the trunk.

I am now rethinking my action as I see the sweet, grandmotherly face of the woman. I’m starting to feel ever so slightly stupid.

“Excuse me, but could yall turn that down just a smidge? We can hear it down the street,” I say in my most pleasant voice with a smile on my face.

She looks at me and then calls to the legs sticking out of the trunk. I’m expecting another teenager, an obnoxious one at that. Instead I get a kindly, older man with a smiling face emerging from the trunk.

As they couple explain that they’re working on the car and are very friendly and polite about turning it down, I now feel like a fool. I’m trying my best to smile and act like it’s nothing major. My anger has cooled to the temp of your average Otter Pop®. We all smile as he agrees to turn it down and I thank him profusely. I quickly walk back to our house, much to the amusement of the two Scooter Brigade girls. One of them shouts, “Wow! You sure do walk fast!” I smile, say ‘thank you’ and dart back in the house.

The Spouse is happy I didn’t get my ass shot off.

I sat on the floor and said, “Well, that’s taken care of.” Then I proceeded to tell him all about the nice older couple who live there, and how friendly and pleasant they were, and how they’ve instructed their kids to turn the music down or off when they come home. And how stupid I feel for blowing up over it when it wasn’t anything like what I thought it was going to be.

But the Spouse was supportive and understanding, even if I have become the ‘crazy lady down the street who hates loud music.’ And at least the neighborhood was quiet for the rest of the night.

Four!

Things have FINALLY calmed down at work. For the past three weeks I’ve been driven completely batshit crazy by an unusual overflow of work, not to mention constantly harassed by the sales gurus needing their stuff NOW.

Needless to say, I’ve been in a very fowl mood. Alcohol helps, but not always. Whoever created that crazy rule about not drinking at work obviously NEVER worked in printing. But I digress...

I’m enjoying being able to breathe at a normal rate, not having to prairie dog and hide every time I see a sales slug approaching my desk, and getting more than one bathroom break a day. My day was further brightened when I received one of those silly little surveys from Nicograph. It’s brainless, it’s a waste of time, and it gives me a chances to blather about myself.

Four places that I go over and over:

Barnes & Noble - The Spouse and I call it “book therapy.” I could stay in there for days.

Book & Music Exchange - A great little local used shop that carries books, videos, DVDs and videos games. The guys who work there are a riot

Work - Da job. 5 days a week.

Gatlinburg - A once a year thing. We have our favorite shops, favorite restaurant (Best Italian) and even our favorite hotel. We already have our room reserved for next year.

Four of my favorite places to eat:

Shogun - It’s sushi and it’s closer to our house than Sapporo. And the sushi bar guys know us very well.

Ramsi's - Wonderful international food. Haven’t found anything on the menu I don’t like.

Panera - Not your ordinary soup-and-sandwich place. They have some tasty goods in the bakery and a broccoli cheddar soup in a bread bowl to die for.

Vietnam Kitchen - One of Loserville’s best kept secrets. It’s practically a hole in the wall with maybe a dozen tables. Delicious food. You know it’s good when the local Vietnamese frequent the place.

Four places I would rather be right now:

On my deck - Now that the weather has finally warmed up I’ve been taking full advantage of the patio table, chairs and umbrella. This holiday weekend I spent nearly all three days our there with a drink in one hand and a book in the other. And, dare I say, I actually got a little color on my normally pasty flesh.

Barnes & Noble - As mentioned before, book therapy is always good for the soul.

At the sushi bar at Shogun - I could eat sushi every day and never get tired of it.

On a cruise ship to anywhere - I don’t care it was Hawaii or Alaska, the Caribbean or Europe. I would so love to feel the waves gently rock the ship as we ventured to some exotic place.

Four TV shows I watch all the time:

Ghost Hunters - Yall know how much I love spooky shit. The entire world must come to a halt when a new episode airs. I love the show so much I already have the book.

Dirty Jobs - The Spouse suspects I have a crush on Mike Rowe (he does have a nice voice) but I really do love watching that poor slob deal with some of the most god-awful, gross, vomit-inducing situations.

UFC Fight Night - As mentioned in a previous blog, I’m hooked on watching to men beat the living shit out of each other. And, forgive me, I recently bought a Tapout shirt while in Gatlinburg.

HBO Boxing After Dark - See above. This has become a Saturday night ritual. If a Saturday goes by without a fight, the Spouse and I are depressed.

So, what are YOUR fours?

Stay tuned for this important announcement

Just to let everyone know, I am not joining any more membership websites (I.E. WAYN, Facebook, LouisvilleMojo, etc.) I am here and on MySpace and that's it. No more.

I am not joining any forums, no matter how cool the website or who operates it.

I am not adding any quiz applications to my profile, here or at MySpace, nor am I buying anybody as a pet. Nor do I care "how much I am worth" or "how much you are worth."

I do not do any form of online chat (I.E. iChat, AOL Messenger, MySpace Chat, etc.) so don't bother with the invites.

No offense to anyone who wants to do that stuff on their own, and no offense to those who have sent me various invites to do so.

I'm just tired of getting inundated with spam from all these unnecessary websites and other silly doo dads.

If you wish to contact me, you can do so here or via MySpace. If you're looking for my email, it's VERY easy to find (pretend you want to volunteer at my Haunted House, visit their website - in the column on the right - and look for the contact info).

Thank you for your time. Carry on...

Danger: Radioactive Toxic Waste

The Spouse and I grumble a lot about getting older. We find ourselves saying, “It sucks getting old” a lot. And it does. The body aches, the loss of energy, the greying hair, the weight gain... *heavy sigh*

But, there are some benefits to getting old (besides cheaper car insurance). The main one, I feel, is not having to deal with “high school drama.” You remember the crap that used to go on when you were in high school and college? Fighting about who you can be friends with, what guy/girl you’re allowed to date, what clothes your social group wants you to wear, and the ever-popular two girls fighting over the same guy (or vice versa).

I was so glad when I got out of high school and was able to leave all that behind. But even in my late 30s I’m amazed at the number of people around me who are old enough to know better who still are playing these stupid games and behaving like they’re 15. And we’re talking a wide array of people: close friends, not-so-close friends, acquaintances, co-workers... *another heavy sigh*

The problem is that I sometimes get pulled into this shit. I do my best to stay away from toxic people like this but sometimes it’s unavoidable. Maybe I’m gifted in that my intuition is better than everybody else. I seem to be able to spot ‘problem people’ and can avoid any attachment to them by simply ducking out.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be flashing red lights and warning bells, but my “creep” and “bad news” radars work fanastic. I can see something wonky about someone and then consciously make the decision not to get any closer. I don’t want to reach out and help. I don’t want to be a hero and fix their problem. I don’t need closure or any kind of finality. I just smile and walk away. Quickly. I pride myself on the fact that I’ve never been in abusive relationship and have exited toxic, codependent friendships quickly with little or no damage.

In the past few months I’ve watched certain people (and ‘people’ is very plural here) do the dumbest shit and get themselves in the worst situations. I read about it in their blogs, I hear about it in their phone calls, I watch it happen at work, out in public and at various social gatherings. I feel like a parent watching their child spiral down, wanting so badly to just shake the hell out of them while shouting, “What the hell are you doing?! What are ya, STUPID?!”

How come I can see disaster coming and they can’t? *yet another heavy sigh*

I’m not perfect, nor do I have a perfect life. I have trauma and stress just like anybody. I just do my best not to drag people down into my pit of despair. And I try not to stay down there too long and have to rely on people to come to my rescue. I do not elaborate about my personal problems on the web, on late-night phone calls or to total strangers I meet in public. That’s private, it’s none of your business, so go away.

Some people seem to thrive on bad news, and they want everybody to know about it. Maybe it’s the only exciting thing in their life. But FUCK... the constant negativity gets OLD after a while. Hearing the same bad news over and over and over...

So, needless to say, I’m staying away from these people. I don’t want to get involved. I don’t want to get pulled into something that’s gonna leave me covered in the same radioactive muck that these poor boneheads keep stirring up.

Speaking of high school, I have a 20 year reunion coming up next month. Now I went to my 10th and had a good time. I didn’t go to reunite with old friends. I went to thumb my nose at them and say, “See? You DIDN’T keep me down, assholes.” The only people I graduated with that I care about are WasabiJohn and AmandaJo. The rest of them can go suck eggs. Seriously. High school was traumatic for me. Those naive bastards that always say, “These are the best years of your life” are fucking morons who didn’t live past 20.

At first I wanted to go, but I’ve been really thinking about it. Do I REALLY want to go? There isn’t anybody there I want to see. I get to see WasabiJohn and AmandaJo whenever I want. I don’t need this particular social event to do it.

Granted, all those people are 20 years older and hopefully not the same snobby little shits they were back then. But still, do I really want to see them again? For what purpose?

I think I’ll pass (unless WasabiJohn or AmandaJo talks me into it). I seem to have plenty of toxic situations I’m successfully avoiding. I don’t need any more.