Drunken SnAILers

My poor flowerbed has been having issues. Everything I planted . . died.


And then one day, I saw one of these:



and one of these:


crawling across one of the only remaining healthy leaves. They were chowing down and leaving a shiny silver treasure map for their slimy friends to follow. This confirmed my suspicions from last summer when I found big holes in the leaves of our tomato plants. Last year and twice this year I've laid down slug and snail bait but it hasn't seemed to do any good. They just keep coming.

In my research I've found that snails and slugs like to breed (with themselves, yes they have both male and female parts and don't need a . . . donor . . . to create more), live and lay eggs in overgrown yards - just like the one next door to my townhouse. The neighbors have been trying to sell their place and it's been empty since last fall so no one takes care of the yard. And sure enough, after their feed, I watched a couple of them slither back through the fence to take shelter from the days sun.

I've come across a couple of decent sounding game plans for said "snug" (get it? Half snail, half slug) problem. Someone suggested keeping a salt shaker in your garden and sprinkling it on them whenever they show up - which I don't doubt works, but they usually feed in the early morning and late at night. I don't know about you, but I've got better things to do with my time than salting slugs. Someone else also suggested using some sort of a poker to stab them with? But again, that would require just hanging out and waiting for them to show up. Not gonna happen. Finally my roommate Melissa made an interesting suggestion. She said she'd heard that if you put out a small bowl of beer overnight they'll be attracted to it, slither in and drowned (or at the very least get a buzz and not be able to make it back to your plants).

So I thought I'd give it a try.

Finally bought my first beer. Only ten years too late for the drunken rebellious stage of life.
The whole time I was standing on the gas station waiting to buy it I was singing that really annoying hot dog commercial song in my head, "With the Miller High Life boiled in. Go meat!"

That's it my transgendered friends . . slide on up to the bar and let me buy you a drink.
(insert devilish laugh here)

I felt it was only appropriate that they die in the shade of what they had killed. How's that for irony?
(Is that technically irony? I don't think it is but I couldn't think of a better word. Blame Alanis.)

Is it bad that I counted the slug carcasses with joyful, childish glee?

Yard Mullet: damage in the front, carnage in the back.
I accept full blame for the lame jokes.
and the accidental rhyming.

Let us pretend that you can't see that dead spot in my new sod that's been caused by the pee of one "Chuck the Wonder Dog".
(I've been researching that too but thus far, have not found any good solutions. If you have one, PLEASE send it my way.)

Apparently, the ants quite like the beer too. Let's see them march in a straight line now. HA!

All in all, I counted 52 slugs between my three plates when I emptied them this morning. And I'm almost out of beer. Those suckers can DRINK. I may have go get some more but I think this time I won't go dressed like trailer trash. And as soon as I hit the grocery store I'm going to try another theory . . sprinkle broken egg shells around your plants. Apparently, they will crawl over the shells, get all kinds of sliced up and bleed out. Painful, but necessary (and cheaper). Slug impaled by shell. That could make for some interesting photos too.


PS I was having a hard time naming this blog post because I'm mental like that and in my sleepy daze, I came up with many others that I like so I thought I'd share:

It's Miller time!
Chugs & Slugs
Slugs on a Bender
Bugs on a Bender
Chuggin' Slugs
Beer! It's what's for dinner (and for breakfast, apparently).
The Great Slug Slaughter

Ode to Hot Cops

Why is it that every time I get pulled over, or get a flat or break down somewhere it's always the old gray haired, chubby cops that are there? This afternoon I was driving down Highway 89 and saw a car that was broken down on the side of the road. And while I felt bad for them, as breaking down does suck, the cop that stopped to help them was nothing short of B U I L T and H O T. So I ask again, where were you when I got pulled over in I-15 for doing 96 in a 75? Sigh.

Spider (Wo)man

So I woke up one morning last week with two HUGE spider bites on my right arm. Please forgive the low quality picture. I took it with my phone. And since the lighting was so bad, I outlined the bites so you could see them better. Yup, I'm amazing that way.

I pulled off my sheets and changed them (even though the ones that were on there were clean and I'd just put them on the day before . . hhm . . maybe that's where the spider came from) and went on with my day.

Within 24 hours, both bites had two tiny blisters in the middle of them which I imagine is where the evil spider injected it's super power inducing venom into my arm. And then the pain started - it spread all of the way up into my elbow. Not my idea of a good time.

Now, I don't know if the evil spider was the freakin' HUGE ant I found crawling across my ceiling or if it was this mother of a bug I found in my closet a couple of days later . .

Now let me clarify . . the spider DID NOT come with the Sobe cap. So don't go plastering this all over the internet and saying that someone found this inside their drink and the health department is shutting them down. It's not true. A friend of mine gave me the cap because I drive a Jetta and often wear a ponytail (how appropriate is that?!?) and I had it taped to my computer at work - but now, it sits in my closet, amongst the spiders.

I had to include that last one so that you could see the sack of eggs that she was protecting with that massive web. Can you imagine that breaking loose in my house?!? Next step . . filling the cap with spider killer.

PS I'm pretty sure my spider induced super power is invisibility as that once again, I was standing in line at a fast food joint and the clerk looked right past me and asked for the order of the person behind me. That can only happen so many times before my ego takes a hit. From here on out I think I may have to avoid restaurants where you have to look up at the menu.

Fortune Cookie Update

It's been over a month, and absolutely nothing (except for my sleeping schedule) has changed. So much for the fortune cookie gods.

Damn you, drunk Chinese men! *Sigh* Who knows, maybe the gray haired lady had an excellent May. I sincerely hope someone's problems got better.

ttfn (which is the only appropriate sign off after my last post),
Jj

And you thought your family was embarrassing . .

So wrong that I just had to share. Follow the link, so worth the time.

Miss me?

Okay, I know I said I was going to give it a break for a while but this story is just so funny that I have to share. Honestly, it would be a crime against nature and comedy to keep it to myself. So you'll get this one and probably a few others along the road but I'm going to lay off anything personal for a while. I figure people probably don't care about my personal life as much as my observations anyway, so here goes.

Saturday night (or should I say Sunday morning?) some neighbors across the way in my complex starting making a ruckus. This is not unusual for them. It's a house full of (very) young and stupid renters and they have no respect for anyone else in the area that might have children or just a crazy desire to sleep at 1am. They've had the cops called on them multiple times and have had eviction threatened many times. I think the owners just keep cycling people through it. One moron will move out and another idiot will take his place - and around we go.

Anyway, I heard some guy run out of their townhouse with his girlfriend shouting about how they were going to "do this" and "get it done". I stayed in bed thinking they were going to get in their car and leave and my part in the story would "be done". Then the headlights came on and lit up the entire parking lot. That's when I realized that they were going to try to jump a dead battery. I felt really bad for the people directly across from me because they had said headlights shining right into their living room and master bedroom. Chuck the Wonder Dog was all kinds of agitated by all of the noise and started to pace out on the balcony so I got up to check it out (and encourage him to bark at them). Sitting on the floor in my room spying out the front window I was riveted by the drama that was going on down there.

It all started out pretty normal, they pulled up some sort of an SUV next to the Malibu hooked up the cables, started the first car, and then went to hook the cables up to the dead Chevy. And then she shrieked, "Holy &@*#&! It's on fire! Do something!" As things under the hood were starting to melt he tried (with bare hands) to remove the cables from the battery. I don't know, call me illogical, but my first thought - which I almost screamed from my hiding place - was to cut the power since it was an electrical fire. Simply put, turn off the running car. And that begs the question, why was that car running in the first place? I'm no car expert but I have jump started more than one dead battery and I typically start with both cars in the OFF position. There I go, being logical again.

Back to the story . . . As the drunken bimbo was freaking out I heard, "I'm going to go get some water!" Thankfully, he wasn't quite as drunk as I'd previously assumed and logically warned her of the fact that it was an electrical fire and they could both die (I'm paraphrasing as he used a number of four letter expletives within the warning). And this is when they went for help. By now, Chuck was beginning to freak and get really agitated. He laid down behind me on the floor as to protect himself from the burning smell of melting plastic. Such a protector.

Don't stop now. Keep reading because it only gets better/dumber.

An entire gaggle of other drunkards tumbled out of the front door of their rental to lend their expertise. They're all standing around the smoldering remains of the electrical blaze trying to figure out how to solve the problem (with the jumper car STILL running) and lighting up their cigarettes as they lean in closer to get a better look. I know they're two totally different kinds of fire but am I the only one that thinks that might not be the brightest idea? Oh, and speaking of bright, I heard this one word-for-word a minute later. "Dude, you can't jump an American car [the Chevy Malibu] with a foreign car [the STILL running SUV]." Are you kidding me?!?! There's a 98% chance that both of those batteries came from Wal-Mart (thank you Melissa) and that the jumper cables were made in Taiwan.

But that didn't stop them from pulling a Ford up on the other side to try again. By now, I was only mildly entertained and extremely tired. Seriously, it's bed time. "Get it done" and go away. After fumbling with the cables for a good 10 minutes they FINALLY figured it out (this time actually doing it the right way) and headed back in doors so I headed back to bed. A few minutes later I realized that I could still hear a car running. They'd left the Malibu running as to keep charging the batter which is probably the right thing to do, but most people would drive it somewhere. Whatever, not my car. But I was tempted to take it for a little joyride and leave it in a ditch (still running as to keep recharging the battery).

And in conclusion, ten minutes later Ken and Barbie came out of the house to head who knows where and as they got into the fully charged Malibu I heard him say, "Babe, I feel so stupid."

As you should, Ken. As you should.

xoxo
Jj

I believe that everyone else my age is an adult . . .

. . . whereas I am merely in disguise.
- Margaret Atwood.

We all work every day to accomplish something - or sometimes, anything for that matter. Life is a battle and a test and we can only do the best we can. And like so many others, I've pushed myself to get through my schooling so that I could get a good job, (a career even) and live a "successful" life. And I got that job, and I thought I had that life. I worked at said "good job" for almost four years, feeling like a child in an adults clothing the entire time. While I enjoyed it and was good at what I did, I always felt as though I was faking it.

You're invited to: My Pity Party*
Where: Right here, silly
When: Well, right now if you bother to finish reading (not really worth it, so don't) or later. Whatever, I'm not picky.
Please RSVP
Ben and Jerry's will be served by the pint.

On the outside, I tried to appear like I had it all together. I have my education, I had my "career", I bought my own home, I have my dog, my car is paid off, etc etc etc. But, being a Mormon in Utah, I still feel as though it's all an act and that because I'm unmarried and barren (I like to use technical terms as it makes me feel more mature) I still feel like I've accomplished . . well, nothing. And to ice the cake, I was laid off from my "career" two and a half months ago and there is no sign of any new job on the horizon. And honestly, I have no idea where to go from here. So basically, I'm no longer successful. I can no longer claim to have it all together. I'm an unemployed, unmarried "adult" who owns a home I can no longer afford, has a dog that eats like a horse, a car with a check engine light that's on so often I can set my watch by it, and basically no reason to even bother changing out of my pajamas.

There have been MANY times throughout my life when I've gotten up in the morning, looked at myself in the mirror and been surprised at what I saw. It's like my body doesn't exactly match my soul. Does that make any sense at all? Almost like I forget what I look like overnight and when I see it again, it just doesn't seem to fit. Am I weird? I can't be the only person that's ever experienced this sensation, right?

I envy those that seem to actually know who they are. And I envy those that don't have to try to figure it all out on their own. Now don't get me wrong - I will NEVER be one of those girls that begs everyone she knows to set her up with anyone that's single. I actually despise the idea of setups. Plus, I have much higher requirements than just having a job and not living with their parents and I'd be borderline impossible to setup anyway. I'm stubborn and I refuse to change that even if it means I die alone with my six cats (which I don't yet have, don't curse me).

But, when I look around my neighborhood and my ward at all of the cute little young couples that have or are having babies right now (and there are a lot of them - it's an epidemic) the only thing that I can think is that it must be nice to have someone to go through all of this crap with. Now I've got my friends - actually I've got some of the most amazing friends out there (trust me, you should be so lucky), but it's been YEARS since I've been THAT important to any of them. Ya know what I mean? (Don't get me wrong, ladies and gents, I know you love me and that you still consider me important - I'm not saying that you don't, so don't get all annoyed with me.) But back during the younger (and their) single days, I often felt . . . needed. But things have changed. I'm no longer that person to anyone.

I was the person they called when the cute guy asked them out, I was the first person they emailed when they got that job offer, or that raise, or that A. If it was exciting, disappointing, happy or sad, I got the call. And in return, I had someone to call. And in all honesty, I know that if something happens (good or bad) I still have multiple people that I can call - but really that's not as important to me as being important to someone else. I rarely get phone calls anymore and 98% of my emails are junk. Sometimes it will be days, even weeks before I hear about things that happen in my friends lives. I'm just not the one they think of anymore when they've got something to say - and really, in the grand scheme of things, I shouldn't be the first person they come to anymore. It's just the cycle of life - but it would seem that mine has stalled and everyone else my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise.

*Okay, I'm done with my pity party and I hope you enjoyed your ice cream. I hate not being funny and entertaining (cuz I'm so good at both of those) and I hate writing negative or depressing stuff but unfortunately that is all that has been on my mind for the last couple of weeks and I had to get it out so I could stop thinking about it. I promise, this is the last post I'm going to write like this (at least for a good long while). I don't know how long it will be before I'm back, but I refuse to do another post until I've got something exciting or at the very least, entertaining to tell that person (or any person for that matter). And to make matters worse, I'm betting that as soon as I hit the Publish Post button, I'm going to regret it. Such is life in the World Wide Web.