Wednesday, July 8, 2009

calling all fleas, ticks, bees and wtf is THAT!?

I have a problem... I think bugs are following me. I know. I KNOW! Ok? But hear me out.

The cafe that I manage suddenly has flies. Lots of flies. They're everywhere. The floor is clean, the grease trap is clean, everything is CLEAN. I'm anal. Trust me. It's clean. But the flies... oh my God!

THEN, I go home to sit outside on our front patio and there are BEES! IN THE GROUND PEOPLE! I mean, seriously??? Bees make nests in the ground now? Why do they have to build where I enjoy my morning coffee and after work cigarette? I enjoy the peace and quiet of the front porch. The birds sing, the wind blows, the sky is pretty from that angle... and now instead of relaxing, I flail around helplessly hoping not to throw folger's black silk all over myself or burn my hair off with a lit smokey treat. What am I supposed to do?

I woke up to my neighbor's fire alarm this morning. Waited for 911 to arrive. They came, they saw, they found the dying fire alarm and were unable to put the thing out of its misery. So it's still blaring. When the excitement wound down, I went to go potty after cup number 2 of coffee and entered the roomie's bathroom. Only to find.... a fucking tick. On the shower curtain. As if to say, "Good Morning master!" They're following me. The bugs are. I know it.

Because when I went to go lay down in bed last night... there was a bug on my pillow. I killed it. Shut up PETA. I know. But it had too many legs and it was on my resting place. I'm unsure of the type because I have never seen a bug with this odd appearance in my life. So not only are the bugs assisting me at work, they are also tucking me in at night, greeting me during my morning coffee, welcoming me home and WATCHING ME PEE!

This is invasive. This is ridiculous. I need a personal body guard to protect me from the stalking insects.

Apparently I might need to add rodents to this list as well because to my knowledge, there have never been sun loving bats. But there's a bat outside the store. He hangs out in my smoking area. His name is Lucky Bruce, affectionately named by the other smokers of the store. He's gross. He's big. He flies and he looks like a beetle when he's sleeping. (I'm assuming he is sleeping since he hasn't tried to attack my head yet.)

Also, I'm dating again. I hate it. Still hate it, rather. Maybe I should join a family who can choose a husband for me. Arranged marriages are the most successful. Wouldn't that be amazing? It's not so much a desperation thing, but more of a quality thing. I apparently suck at choosing men so why not let someone else choose him for me? Or better yet, LOTS of someones. It would be like the judge and jury choosing a life sentence. But a good one.

I might be on to something here, until then... I need to find some OFF! But like OFF! for my personal spaces rather than for my body.

1 comment:

The Homefront said...

Aww, that's just precious. They're at your service! ;)

Best of luck with the arranged marriage. Who better to pick your mate than the people who know you best and aren't blinded by a hint of gorgeousness (we hope. Unless your grandma likes cabana boys, in which case it may be hopeless).

Good to see a blog post from you again, Kallay. :)