|Furry little jackass.|
1) dark beer
3) youth/college football
4) sweaters make it possible to gain 10 pounds eating cheese
5) all the little freaking furry rodentia that spend their summers frolicking in the sunshine try to suddenly converge on my house.
I have mentioned my overall general un-love for the creatures. In this post, and then again in this one, I chronicle my efforts to rid the world of their creepy little poky noses and weird feet. Their whiskers? Pretty cute, admittedly. But not cute enough to lessen my urge to smash them flat with an Acme safe.
This weekend, as I
This is aligned closely with other questions I dread, such as "MAWM - we got any glue?" And "MAWM - which is it I'm not supposed to date, debate team girls or cheerleaders?"
I steeled myself. "Ummm. Why, pray tell?"
Sidebar: I try to use phrases like "pray tell" in everyday conversation with my children. It not only helps keep outdated language alive, but it also makes them look nerdy to both debate team girls and cheerleaders.
The 165 pound cherub retorted, "There's baby mice all over the patio!"
To which I replied, "The bb guns are in the camper, son. Getcher pellet gun."
And then, because we are all about safety over here, I added..."but wear eye protection!"
Spoiler Alert: the mouse in this neighborhood are safe. Apparently, while my children can hit flying clay targets at 30 yards, little furry things 5 feet away pose too much of a challenge.
However, if those little bastards with cute whiskers cross the threshold of my house, it's bets-off, Mickey. I'm bringing out the big guns.
I'm borrowing a cat.