That’s bizarre! I sure as hell wouldn’t want my chicken noodle soup to taste like soy sauce.
My mini rant today is about the ants! The friggin never-ending ant infestation is driving me crazy! Apparently their nest is somewhere behind the dishwasher, so I can’t stick a trap back there or anything. My husband says he’ll re-treat the outside of the house, but I’m not sure how that will help with the ones that are already inside.
If it makes you feel better at all, I mis-read that as, “Cats driving slowly in the furthest left lane should be vaporized from orbit.” Yeah, damned driving cats!
Meow! Pfffffffffzttttttttttttt POOF!
Take some borax and mix it in a bit of apple jelly (strawberry jelly/jam also works), put it on a few small pieces of cardboard and slide them under the dishwasher. I would maybe also put some under the sink - I’m guessing they can get in there also. They like the sweet, obviously, and the borax kills them.
I’ve been following your ordeal, I feel your pain! I had my wisdom teeth out last year, and I never had a flap of skin, but I did have some stitches that rubbed the inside of my cheek raw. I craved tortilla chips too… I think I ate most of the bag when I was finally able to have them again.
The standard size for what would be closest to a twin used to be 1.80m(6ft)80cm(2ft8in), conversions approx. But as the average height for males got closer and closer to those 6ft, it became 1.9090 (6t4in*3ft).
Oh, and the reason for the pails? In one toilet, the mechanism had come unhooked. In the other one… the valve in the water pipe was closed :smack: Given that one of the flatmates had been alone for about half a year, and the toilet with the closed pipe was the one he doesn’t use, it may well have been closed for over a year and neither of the two women who used it thought of saying anything or investigating. Can I take a monkey wrench to them?
Topamax. Fuck. I’d love to rant about it, but it makes my head so damn fuzzy I can barely think. So just fuck it.
I’d love to think up a clever comment for this, but Topamax won’t let me. It make me dum.
I dunno, Bjork’s boyfriend struck me as a pretty responsible driver.
Only if I can help.
Of course, they did kind of make their own penance by shitting and pissing in buckets for six months. (Or were they filling the buckets with water and using that to “flush” the toilets, which would be also obnoxious but not nearly as gross?)
I learned almost this exact same treatment, except that it’s less messy (and also more kid- and pet-safe) to slip a little of the mixture into coupla-inch-long sections of a drinking straw using a toothpick. Then you can tape the straw sections along the ant’s trails, or just where you want them to be out of the way.
Also, I learned specifically to use mint jelly, that it’s more attracting to them. Dunno the validity of that part. Hell, mint jelly is mostly apple jelly anyway (read the ingredients).
This, woman! The other thing wouldn’t be a bucket, it would be a gazunder*
Terry Pratchett? 
Getting so that every time I hear a blues guitar riff I expect it to be an erectile dysfunction commercial.
You’ve reached an age when you can drive around in a zippy sports car and look all hot with your silver hair and listen to generic blues music and take Viagra. But with age comes responsibility: Ask your doctor if you’re healthy enough to go to a B.B. King concert. Seek help for a standing ovation lasting more than four minutes. Maybe B.B. King is not for you.
I pit whatever douchenozzle initiated the latest DDoS attack on LiveJournal. I also pit LiveJournal for not seeing fit to tell us that a DDoS attack was the reason the site has been nearly unusable for the past three friggin’ days.
(Oh, and anyone who replies to this with “LOL people still use LiveJournal??” can go stand barefoot on a Lego brick.)
Sigma, I can’t stop laughing.
Heh, I was going to ask if anyone knew anything, but I was afraid I’d get that reaction.
I’ve also noticed that taking erectile dysfunction medication also makes you a douchebag who doesn’t fulfill his commitments to other people, then smirks about it.
I’m laughing my ass off, but at the same time feel like I should pit you for getting that damn song stuck in my head. Thanks.a.lot.
A WOOO WHOOOO! strum strum
[B.B. King]
“The thill is gone, it’s gone awaaaaaay…”
[/B.B. King]
If your thrill has gone, try the little blue pill.
Bri2k
For some reason, my husband has decided that, to clean the toilet in the master bathroom properly, it is necessary to turn off the water to the toilet and get rid of all the water in it. While I appreciate his dedication to thorough cleaning, the damn toilet has been unusable since Sunday! He insists he needs a full 45 minutes to an hour to clean it. It’s not that dirty! Just dump some toilet bowl cleaner in it, scrub, flush and wipe down the rim and seats. Done.
But, no, that isn’t nearly thorough enough. So if I wake in the middle of the night, I have to trek downstairs to our basement, blinding myself with the basement lights (it’s dark as pitch down there), then turn them off, blinding myself once more and haul my sorry, tired butt back to bed.
Yes, I realize there was a time when people didn’t even have toilets in the home, but dammit, there’s a perfectly fine one connected to our damn bedroom. I love my husband and usually his cleaning quirks are amusing, but this is driving me nuts.
No, I think I’d continue killing you after you were dead, just to make sure. 