Inspiration to write an amusing blog post is difficult to come by these days.
The dastardly fiends known as the Writing Gods have, in order to spite me, kept all the funny story ideas to themselves, leaving me not unlike a desperate fratboy denied a high-five.
"Come on, bro, don't leave me hangin'!" I eloquently beg the sadistic deities, my backwards baseball cap falling off in despair.
(Yes, headgear can fall off in despair. Shut up.)
But, alas, despite all of my pleading, the Gods continue to revel in their Schadenfruede, leaving me with nary an amusing limerick to please my perpetually patient blog readers.
So, if you were wondering why I've not been updating as of late, it is because the Writing Gods are out to get me, not because the cricket-wizards have finally finished me off.
Not that they have not been trying, mind you, what with all their hiding in the silverware drawer, trying to give me a heart attack by jumping out at me when I only want a spoon for my delicious Cheerios.
All righty, then.
That is all.
Adieu.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Too Much Free Time...
I think the crickets are out to get me.
I do not think they are trying to physically harm me (not yet, anyhow) but I am certain that they are playing some pretty cruel mental games with me.
You see, the crickets reside in the kitchen.
I am not sure how they manage to get into the kitchen, but the fact that the doors and windows are sealed tightly every night leads me to believe that they practice a sort of door-unlocking witchcraft.
However, I do not believe that the crickets have any protection charms or healing spells, as they cannot gird themselves against the cats that come in to maul them late at night and leave them half-dead and twitching on the linoleum floor.
In their final moments, the crickets pick up their mangled bodies and hurl themselves into the cats' water bowl, leaving me to dump out the water poisoned by their disgusting, bloated corpses and refill it.
This is, of course, the mental torture to which I am referring.
Were this to happen once in a blue moon, I would not be so irritated, but it seems that whenever I refill it and turn my back, 2 more appear from thin air and fling themselves into the bowl.
I blame this on the cricket witchcraft as well.
Unfortunately, I've checked the Yellow Pages twice, and have yet to find an insect exterminator that also dabbles in protection against the dark arts, so I am going to have to just deal with it for now.
That is all.
Adieu.
I do not think they are trying to physically harm me (not yet, anyhow) but I am certain that they are playing some pretty cruel mental games with me.
You see, the crickets reside in the kitchen.
I am not sure how they manage to get into the kitchen, but the fact that the doors and windows are sealed tightly every night leads me to believe that they practice a sort of door-unlocking witchcraft.
However, I do not believe that the crickets have any protection charms or healing spells, as they cannot gird themselves against the cats that come in to maul them late at night and leave them half-dead and twitching on the linoleum floor.
In their final moments, the crickets pick up their mangled bodies and hurl themselves into the cats' water bowl, leaving me to dump out the water poisoned by their disgusting, bloated corpses and refill it.
This is, of course, the mental torture to which I am referring.
Were this to happen once in a blue moon, I would not be so irritated, but it seems that whenever I refill it and turn my back, 2 more appear from thin air and fling themselves into the bowl.
I blame this on the cricket witchcraft as well.
Unfortunately, I've checked the Yellow Pages twice, and have yet to find an insect exterminator that also dabbles in protection against the dark arts, so I am going to have to just deal with it for now.
That is all.
Adieu.
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