I hate you. Can’t get remote start on a car with a manual transmission. But I can downshift so . . . so . . . take THAT!
They just pretend to be helpless so you won’t mad when they raid the bird feeder. You’ll think ‘well, I guess it’s ok, they need the energy.’ But it’s a ploy - a very sophisticate form of rodent psyops. And don’t get me started on those damned mice.
Speaking of which, what do you do about a mouse that doesn’t like peanut butter? I’ve caught, tried and executed 2 so far relying upon their inability to resist peanut butter. But, using an infrared trail camera, I have video evidence of a third mouse which still lives. In addition to the electronic electrocution trap, I’ve set out 2 more conventional traps ladened with peanut butter and conveniently placed, yet this last one seems to have the discipline of a ninja master.
It’s not just where you are - tree squirrels (as opposed to ground squirrels like chipmunks) don’t hibernate, they just stay in their nests more often to keep warm. Like most animals that don’t hybernate, they probably grow a thicker coat for the winter, too.
I’ve heard rumours that you can actually get remote starters for a manual transmission. Maybe check with your local mechanic?
I’ll just stick with my two-car garage. Seriously, insisting on a two-car garage with this house purchase was one of the best decisions we’ve ever made. I truly don’t understand people who have garages but have them too full of other stuff to put their cars in them.
She’s 13 months. So she’s still allowed to poo on me if she has to. But at 14…um. Ew.
It took me months to be able to look at a hot dog again after my son ate too much one Halloween. I still remember the regurgitated ketchup and hot dog trail down the hall. And the smell. Oh, God. The smell.
This is why I could never be a comedian. Not only are half the jokes I tell my friends lifted directly from stand-up routines I’ve seen, but I’d be too afraid of ripping off another comedian accidentally. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Carlin do that bit, but I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if I were accused of stealing it.
My friend wants to start up a series of retreats. In them people will pay to be militarily routed by an opposing force. Which means signing up to be shot at as a form of relaxation and centering.
I can’t stop giggling about it.
They’re making a film version of the Rosemary Sutcliff novel Eagle of the Ninth. It looks cool. Rosemary Sutcliff’s books inspired me to learn to weave when I was eleven.
Why haven’t I grown out of that? I get too tired and really want to go to bed, and yet I don’t go. Maybe I need someone to pick me up and carry me to bed.
I knew it was something like that. I could swear I saw them practicing the “tragic eyes” routine in the window reflection before I filled the bird feeder.
Maybe he could bait the trap with a little bread and THEN put the peanut butter on. Also add some jelly and another piece of bread with a thimble of milk to one side. What mouse could resist? I do actually put some bread on with the peanut butter just to make it harder to remove without tripping the lever.
Why is it cats always leave the lower half of a mouse on the step? What if raw mouse brains were the tastiest thing in the world and we will never know. On the other hand what if the lower half is best and your cat is being self sacrificing and noble only to see you insult him by tossing it? That’s why I always do it in secret. And lick mouse brains.
I inspected the traps and the furry menace has managed to scoop out most of the peanut butter on one without triggering the trap. I imagine he used some Mission Impossible type of device composed of a harness and cables and silently descended upon the trap from above. I have now located the electronic trap in the same place. It is completely enclosed except for a little mouse sized stairway leading to the killing floor. He’ll be looking for infrared lasers and trip wires, but there are none. Instead, the floor is electrified and like in Sweeney Todd, once the deed is done, the floor drops away depositing the body in a removable tray.
I’ve uploaded some videos (20 seconds and about 8M each) of this hell spawn. You can see the evil radiating from it’s eyes like lasers - lasers of evil!!!
How did the runt of the litter turn into a sixteen pound cat? And why does he snore so loudly I swear the neighbors can hear him? Why does he act like dog and follow me around demanding I pet him at least once an hour? His mew sounds like a girl so I think he must be at least part Siamese. Why is his fur so coarse? How did he get such ugly brown patches on his face to match his beautiful amber eyes? Why was he French kissing my other cat?
I think he probably has a few random thoughts about me.
Why is her lap disappearing these last two months? Why does she eat lox without sharing it with me? Why does not not understand that mew means feed me and meow means pet me? Why does she only have hair on her head? Why did she take away the mouse I wanted to give her as a present?
Seriously, insisting on a two-car garage with this house purchase was one of the best decisions we’ve ever made. I truly don’t understand people who have garages but have them too full of other stuff to put their cars in them.
