Are You Kidding Me?

Things that crack me up, sometimes after the fact.

Sick Ninjas, Prince Charming, Bathroom Etiquette & Porn Stars

Today I’m just going to lasso all the crazy thoughts swirling around in my head and wrestle them into word form.

It’s been an interesting few days…..

Random Thought #1: My little ninja (sounds so much better than “my kid the Chinese thug“) was sick over the weekend. So I spent a couple of nights upstairs in the guest room. Well, okay, at first I slept up there because the slats fell out of the bottom of my side of the bed, and I got tired of delicately climbing out of bed so as not to make it even worse. That’s hard to do in the middle of the night. And by the time I was ready for bed I was too tired to ask G to help fix it.

Saturday was oh so fun as my little ninja wanted me by his side the entire day. I was forced to watch him throw up every few minutes. You moms out there know how much that sucks. Poor kid. I hoped it wasn’t the sushi he ate on Thursday at the Chinese restaurant after he got his haircut.

Random Thought #2: So Sunday night I was tired of the guest bed and crept back downstairs at about 3:30 in the morning. I climbed over G and slept on his side with him. In the morning, we spent some time getting reacquainted (wink) and as I was getting up I saw this teeny tiny frog hopping across the bedroom floor.

“You have to save it,” I told G.

He went to find a cup to put over it and trap it with.

“You’re afraid to pick it up?” I asked, in disbelief. The thing was tiny.

He came back and proceeded to chase it around the bedroom, and finally opened the sliding glass door leading to the back porch.

“He’ll find his was out,” he said as he left to start his trading day.

A couple of hours later I walked in the bedroom and there was the frog, splayed on the floor by the bed, looking kind of dried up. (How long can frogs last out of water anyway?) I know it was the same frog because there was a long hair stuck to it, the same hair that was sticking to it earlier when it hopped around the room, looking kind of like it was doing some weird froggy limbo. I went to look for something to pick it up with. (Hell no I wasn’t about to pick it up!)

I got one of my little ninja’s flashcards and gently tried to lift the frog with it. It flipped over and I saw its little froggy throat throb.

It was still alive!

I flipped it back over and scooped it up onto the flashcard and took it into G’s office to show him.

“I’m going to let it go, outside by the lagoon. Maybe it will live.”

He looked at me and the frog like we were some strange circus act. I felt the need to justify my rescue.

“He’s my Prince Charming,” I said. “I left him upstairs in the guest room and he turned back into a frog, He came down looking for me.”

G went back to his computer and I took Prince Charming outside and laid him down at the edge of the lagoon. Then I scooted him over so he was actually in the water. Then I thought he might drown, so I scooted him back a little closer to the edge. The poor guy probably didn’t stand a chance, because even if he was strong enough to make it the lagoon is filled with turtles and fish and birds that swoop in occasionally to look for something to eat, like a defenseless little frog.

Random Thought #3: Last night G and I were watching The Voice and I got up to go to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” G asked.

I started to say “I’m going to see a man about a dog,” like I usually do, but then I thought, wait a minute. There has to be an equivalent way to say that, as a woman. So I said,

“I’m going to see a woman about a cat.”

I thought that was pretty clever. It’s probably not my invention, but since I’ve never heard it before I’m claiming it.

When I got back to the couch I asked G if there was a German equivalent to “I’m going to see a man about a dog.” (G is German.) He told me that in Germany they say they’re going where tigers go.

“Don’t you remember that scene in The Hangover? That’s why I laughed so hard.”

Well now I finally get that scene! Tiger Scene from The Hangover

Random Thought #4: G was standing at the kitchen sink today swishing soapy water around in the wine decanter, which has been soaking for a couple of days. I know they make something to clean those suckers with. Little beads or something. But we haven’t bothered to get anything and the wine residue at the bottom just won’t come clean. And out of nowhere he says,

“If I were a porn star I could get this thing clean.”

And now you know why I have crazy random thoughts swirling around in my head today. Maybe tomorrow will be more productive.

Categories: Are You Kidding Me?, Family | Tags: , , , | 4 Comments

Throwdown with A Squirrel

I hate squirrels.Well, maybe not all squirrels. Just the ones that climb into my birdhouse and eat all the bird seed. It’s bird seed for God’s sake. It says so right there on the bag!

The couple that sold us our house gushed about the birdhouse and lamented the fact that it was on a  pole that had been cemented into the ground so they couldn’t take it with them. They told us where to get the best wild bird seed so that we would attract all kinds of interesting specimens. We have the perfect vantage point from our breakfast table (our only table actually, since we put a pool table in the dining room). The birdhouse is right outside the window. It has four glass panels (well, three now). You fill it by lowering it down the pole with a crank, then you lift up the roof just enough to scoop some food into the four compartments, ease the roof back down and raise it back up.Voilà,the bird café is open for business!

Le Bird Café

In the beginning, G and I would sit at the table in the morning, oohing and aahing at the cardinals and blue jays and the numerous little brown birds (which all look pretty much the same to me). They’re a lot of fun to watch, especially when they start bullying each other. Those suckers can get pretty territorial. But they’re no match for squirrels.

When the squirrels first started coming, they perched on the sides of the bird house to eat. Before long, they figured out how to shimmy the roof up and climb inside. They would sit in there, munching away, until all the food was gone.

When I saw what was happening, I tapped on the kitchen window to scare them off. That worked for a few days. But it wasn’t too long before they stopped running. So I started pounding harder on the window, like I really meant it. That made ’em jump, and it kept them away longer. But within a few days, the pounding didn’t phase them either. So I opened the window and yelled at them.

HEY!”

Then “GO AWAY!”

Then “AAAAAAHHHHH!” while at the same time waving my arms wildly.

They must have thought I was a raving lunatic. They cleared out for a couple of days, I put more seed in, and we enjoyed the birds again. But sure enough, the squirrels came back, tiptoeing on their little squirrel feet up to the birdhouse and helping themselves. Now the little bastards were really starting to piss me off.

Picture this: me padding into the kitchen first thing in the morning to put the kettle on, looking out the window, and there they are, already inside the bloody thing feasting away. As soon as they see me they sit up at attention and chew more slowly, waiting for my next move. At first I run out through the garage and yell at them, but that takes too long because I have to raise up the garage door.  So I start running across the kitchen to the sliding door and outside where I yell at them from the corner of the house.  Sometimes I  pick up a few pine cones to throw at them, just for emphasis. (All the while I’m praying my neighbors don’t see me.) The squirrels leap into the trees or hide in the bushes under the bird house.  But sooner or later they emerge, creeping back furtively.

So I do some research.  I find out that basically you have three options when it comes to squirrels:

  1. You can buy special bird seed that is not appealing to squirrels. Personally, I like the convenience of buying big bags of wild birdseed at Sam’s Club, and I’m not going to make a special trip halfway across town to buy “special” bird food. Plus, I figure if the squirrels won’t like it, most birds won’t either.
  2. You can cover your bird house with chicken wire or an upside down plastic bowl so the squirrels can’t get into it or so they have nothing to hang on to. That just spoils the whole picture, IMHO. And I don’t want my yard looking like the Clampett’s.
  3. Cayenne pepper. You can sprinkle cayenne pepper on the bird seed and it won’t bother the birds, but it will burn little squirrel lips. Bingo!

I try it. I fill up the bird house and pour in a whole jar of cayenne pepper. Then I wait. The squirrels come and nervously begin to eat, keeping one eye on me. They don’t stay long. Aha! I’m feeling pretty good about myself! But then, one by one, they come back. They try some more seed. I’ll be damned if  the little bastards don’t like spicy food!!

That was the last straw. I run outside. The squirrels are in the bird house, and they aren’t budging. I grab the hose and start spraying them. They make a run for it. All but one, who stands his ground and glares at me from behind the glass wall. Like a madwoman I swing the hose at the glass, over and over until…. it shatters. The squirrel goes flying in the air and latches onto a tree branch as I stand there, soaking wet, shards of glass littering the earth at my feet. The squirrel shakes his tail and scampers up the branch.

That was a year ago, in Spring. I haven’t been able to find a place where I can get a new glass wall. And I haven’t put any more birdseed in the birdhouse.

I really hate squirrels.

I am invincible!

Categories: Are You Kidding Me? | Tags: , , | 1 Comment

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