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Oh fuck, GROSS
Jan. 2nd, 2009 01:03 amI was surfing the net (http://rateyourstudents.blogspot.com Josh, I think you'd enjoy this one), and slowly about to fall asleep, when I hear plastic rustle. I assume it's the heater vent. Then the rustling keeps going, and gets more frantic.
Fuck.
I turn on the light and look in the garbage can. Yep. There's a FUCKING MOUSE IN THE FUCKING GARBAGE CAN. And I am traumatized. I woke up Jason, because god knows I'M not getting any closer to the goddamn thing. I'm too busy freaking out and trying to keep food in my stomach because GROSS!!! I keep cats as pets for a fucking reason people, and a side benefit is because I would THROW the cat at the mouse. Unfortunately Luke, the Peacock Road house cat and killer of two mice in the past couple of weeks, is shut in with his owner for the night. He's not allowed in Jason's room because of his allergies, but fuck, I think exceptions would be made for vermin. (Side note, Luke is one of the friendliest, most skittish, cats I've come across. Leilani, his owner, was really surprised to find out he was killing/playing with any mice dumb enough to cross his path instead of running away from them. Maybe she'll get her rent reduced?)
I am so fucking grossed out, and very much in the mood for chemical warfare. Vermin do not belong in my fucking house without my fucking express invitation. Or anywhere I happen to be staying.
We found one "humane" trap and set it. And seriously, humane? There's a fucking mouse in here! I want the little piece of shit DEAD. It'll just come crawling back inside otherwise!
I'm not going to be able to sleep at all tonight. Every noise I hear is going to wake me up thinking it's a mouse.
I am suddenly missing Montville...well, my welcome usually wears out kinda fast here anyways.
Fuck.
I turn on the light and look in the garbage can. Yep. There's a FUCKING MOUSE IN THE FUCKING GARBAGE CAN. And I am traumatized. I woke up Jason, because god knows I'M not getting any closer to the goddamn thing. I'm too busy freaking out and trying to keep food in my stomach because GROSS!!! I keep cats as pets for a fucking reason people, and a side benefit is because I would THROW the cat at the mouse. Unfortunately Luke, the Peacock Road house cat and killer of two mice in the past couple of weeks, is shut in with his owner for the night. He's not allowed in Jason's room because of his allergies, but fuck, I think exceptions would be made for vermin. (Side note, Luke is one of the friendliest, most skittish, cats I've come across. Leilani, his owner, was really surprised to find out he was killing/playing with any mice dumb enough to cross his path instead of running away from them. Maybe she'll get her rent reduced?)
I am so fucking grossed out, and very much in the mood for chemical warfare. Vermin do not belong in my fucking house without my fucking express invitation. Or anywhere I happen to be staying.
We found one "humane" trap and set it. And seriously, humane? There's a fucking mouse in here! I want the little piece of shit DEAD. It'll just come crawling back inside otherwise!
I'm not going to be able to sleep at all tonight. Every noise I hear is going to wake me up thinking it's a mouse.
I am suddenly missing Montville...well, my welcome usually wears out kinda fast here anyways.
