I Think It Says Something About Me That I Immediately Went to the Internets for Help Instead of Finding Out What Was Going On
Um. There is a crazy man I’ve never seen before in my life in my yard with a chainsaw.
And my pear tree is missing.
Update:
Um. So. Apparently my dad1 hates pears.
So he found a hobo on the street.
Handed him a chainsaw.
And was like, “Hey, man, go to town. Also, have some bacon.”
And now the man with the chainsaw is screaming, “YEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!” every time he revs that shit up.
It sounds like an episode of CSI: Miami up in this bitch.
I wish my life was boring.
- I get my GENES from this man. How freaking scary is that? ↩
I Think I’ll Call Him ‘Lunch’
So I walk into my room, like I do sometimes, but something’s different. Something…squeakily different, actually.
A mouse in a plastic box chillaxing on my great-grandmother’s little red table, to be more specific.
Cue shouts of my brother’s name combined with, “WHY IS THERE A MOUSE IN MY ROOM?!”
Apparently two mice were bought to be my brother’s python’s dinner. But Monty happened to die unexpectedly from unknown causes that day. Very unfortunate for Monty, but uber-lucky for the mice.
My brother apparently doesn’t like this one, but I can’t understand why.
It’s absolutely adorable. You should see the nose thing. The nose thing kills me.
Update: I know why. This mouse is a fucking ninja. A g-ddamn skydiving escape artist.
Let It Snow
Today is my great-grandmother’s 100th birthday!
We were going to have a huge party today, but due to Snowpocalypse ’08, nobody from out of state can get here and most people in-state (including my family!) are stranded as well. Plus she (the birthday girl!) has a terribly unfortunate cold.
My aunt doesn’t want to deal with weather issues again so she wants to postpone until February.
Now, my great-grandma might be healthier than the rest of my family combined…but 100 is really effing old. You cannot postpone someone’s birthday party for two months–especially if they are into the triple digits.
My uncle is going off about how he’s never planning a birthday in December ever again. Because we get actual snow every five years or so? Seriously?
He’s even angry that she “decided” to get sick. Really? She decided to get sick? That’s a new one.
I love my uncle, but needless to say, he can be a bit of a self-centered bastard. My mom showed great restraint in not strangling him over the phone when she heard that.
