Somewhere, out there, something tremendously awesome is happening, something life-affirming and soul-filling. It’s just out there, and it’s going on right now. I think my invite got lost in the mail.
MixMaster Kitchenaid
I just wrote this on Facebook:
You won’t hear about this in the mainstream media, but you need to know about the Theory of Peak DJ Names which predicts that by 2068 we will completely exhaust our supply of unused DJ names, the last one being DJ Buffalo Wings With Honey Mustard Sauce. This fate will also happen to MC names in 2084 and MixMaster names in 2124. Please, we’ve got to fund research of alternative nomenclatures before it’s too late. Let’s secure a fresher, deffer future for our grandchildren and our grandchildren’s grandchildren. Pass this on, and let’s get the word out!
It’ll be interesting to see if it radiates out, and if so, how long it takes to mutate and come back around to me. Whee!
Holy Season?
I am not Christian, so I do not celebrate the birth of Christ.
I am not Jewish, so I do not burn nine candles when one will suffice.
I am not Druid, so I do not decorate evergreen trees with charms.
I am not Wiccan, so I do not celebrate the impregnation of the Moon Goddess and mourn the death of the Sun God.
I am not Dutch, so I do not anticipate a visit from Sinterklaas or fear the arrival of Krampus.
I am not Viking, so I do not burn an oak Yule log or sacrifice a boar to the god of farming.
I am not African, so I do not adorn myself in kente cloth.
I am not Roman, so I do not celebrate Saturnalia.
I am not a Consumer, so I do not buy gifts for friends and family as placebo for doing so year-round.
Please tell me, again, why I should be required to celebrate this holiday?
That being said, I do enjoy some of the ritual of the season; feasting with friends, getting drunk when the time is right. Hell, I’ll sometimes drive around and look at the christmas lights on neighborhood houses. Otherwise? Sorry, pal.
Turdis
Those of you coming around because you saw my URL in an image macro I created: Welcome. This is my personal blog; as such, this is the dumping ground of my long-form, frequently emofuck nonsense that isn’t fit for sharing on my Facebook feed.
The rest of you not from Facebookia: you’re still welcome. This post is to welcome visitors on the off chance that the image gets some popularity (hey, this is the Internet; things go viral sometimes). It was inspired by my buddy Chris Farrell while sitting on the porch at Epoch Coffee. He looked at the port-a-potty across the street and called it a “Turdis”, an obvious reference to the blue police phone box featured on a popular long-running British sci-fi series. I nudged him to make the macro, but he conceded by saying he had no computer skills to make one, so I stepped into the breach and did it.
Eh, it’s good for a few laughs. A few. And you’re welcome.
Tricky Mouse
Grumblecakes.
There are mice in my apartment. Do you know how debasing that is? It’s nothing I did; they just found a way inside my living space. Found they had widened a hole behind the stove where the power cable busts through.
Noticed droppings scattered around my apartment last week, even some spots in my bedroom (aw hell naw). I set out traps last Friday, caught a mouse Saturday; spring landed across its back, it pulled itself out and crawled to the middle of the floor to die. Thought it was done and over with. Sunday, while watching a movie, I heard rustling in my kitchen; I leaned in and saw a mouse climbing the edge of a pizza pan leaning between the wall and the microwave. What the fuck? I started hunting some sort of implement to kill the bastard. Finding nothing that wouldn’t damage anything if I missed, I had no choice but to take a newspaper and roll it up. Gave the mouse chase around the counter before it disappeared.
Monday, picked up a CO2-powered BB pistol; I figure if the traps don’t get ’em, my pistol will. Called the landlord to let him know I had a rodent problem; he came over, saw the picture I took of the dead one from Saturday, pledged to put out some poison bait traps and check the roof for points of ingress. Pulled out the stove and saw the hole. Offered to fill it with spray foam; I declined.
Wednesday, I leave the apartment dark enough, long enough, that I caught another mouse in the trap. Spring landed on its head; instant death. Brutal. Tossed it out, dusted off, and reloaded the trap.
And then, and then Thursday, I come home to find the trap behind the fridge tripped, no mouse. Maybe it crawled away to die; saw its tail on the other side of the fridge. Knocked the fridge to see if the mouse was alive; it was, sadly. But it backed up enough that I had a clear view of its hind end. Grabbed the BB pistol, aimed, pulled a shot. I swear I hit it, but it just jumped, came out from behind the fridge, and slowly ambled back under the stove. Bastard.
As the next step to mitigate the problem, I got a can of spray foam and filled the hole last night. Hopefully this is the end of it for a while. I’ll leave the lights off tonight to see how it goes. Little bastards.
And if that doesn’t work, I’m borrowing somebody’s cat for a week to get its smell inside the house. Here kitty-kitty.