We've been having issues with our basement recently being overpopulated with crickets. Like, not even kidding. At any given time you could walk down to the basement and see at least 5 crickets.
I was able to live in complete denial of this until our wonderful plumbing spit out some wonderful sewage slime all over our wonderful basement... which sent all our wonderful little cricket friends to find shelter on the main and second floor of our wonderful PMQ.
Just wonderful.
Crickets chillin' in the sink. Crickets hangin' by the stove. Crickets hiding under the area rug. Crickets every.fuckin.where.
After walking around with a cricket corpse on a
paper towel Tuesday night and yelling "BE WARNED LITTLE BITCHES!", the
house was significantly quieter on Wednesday evening. This proves that my plan to
spike little cricket heads on toothpicks by the front door wasn't such a
crazy idea.
Showing posts with label ew. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ew. Show all posts
Friday, August 17, 2012
Sunday, August 1, 2010
SK Bugs - ew!
We discovered last year that the convenience and privacy of having your home right by a huge empty field comes with a couple not-so-great details. Aside from the massive snow drifts that take over our front yard and drive way, aside from the very strong winds, aside from having random dogs decide to jump the fence and come poop or play in our yard we have also noticed an in-sa-ne amount of weird bugs.
The most disgusting of them all have been the spiders that seem to live in the siding of the house. There's also a smaller very determined one that lives in the car's side view mirror. Everywhere we go, it's there even though we destroy it's web daily.
Last year, we found a huge muttereffer outside our bathroom window. I tried to get a good photo of it but it to send to Nick was too dark outside. Anyways, when Js squished it (manly man-ness!) it esssploded of orange-yellow ooze all over. We think our yard is a spider breeding party.
That's a picture I took, for Nick again, of this year's mother-load of a spider and luckily, she built her cozy trap of doom right by the patio light. We haven't been able to squish it yet but I suspect her gigantic booty is just as gross and as explosive as the other one.
You're welcome, Nick!
The most disgusting of them all have been the spiders that seem to live in the siding of the house. There's also a smaller very determined one that lives in the car's side view mirror. Everywhere we go, it's there even though we destroy it's web daily.
Last year, we found a huge muttereffer outside our bathroom window. I tried to get a good photo of it but it to send to Nick was too dark outside. Anyways, when Js squished it (manly man-ness!) it esssploded of orange-yellow ooze all over. We think our yard is a spider breeding party.
You're welcome, Nick!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Couple Year Old Doggie Bag
So I'm in the kitchen, doing the dishes after dinner and Js is in the basement getting his hockey gear ready. Jack's somewhere upstairs snoozing and Nova is in the living room, pawing at a toy that rolled under our little love seat... or so we think.
Js comes back up the stairs and walks into the kitchen.
- Honey, where did you get that dog treat from?
- *blank stare*
- That treat that Nova's eating... where'd you get it from? I don't remember buying that.
- *blank stare* Whu...?
As he realizes that I didn't give Nova any treats, both our brains go "What's she eating now!?" and we rush to the living room.
Much to my surprise, Js fishes out of her mouth, a little stick of raw hide, the kind for smaller dogs. I have never bought that. Ever. Neither has he.
I mention the love-seat-clawing session from earlier so he goes and lifts it up. There it is, a brand new, fresh rip right under the seat. Perfect hiding spot for dog treats. It's nicely hidden so at least there is no damage done but it's quite funny.
Now, to figure out where/when the thing came from!!
Here's a brief review of this love seat's life to help shed some light.
???? to 2003 - My Aunt bought this love seat brand new. During that time, she had a cute little dog called Misty.
2003 - 2004 - Maggie and I lived on Carmen Ave in Ottawa. No dog.
2004 - 2005 - Maggie and I lived (again) on Donald St in Ottawa. Surelock lived with us for a couple weeks and he was very very little - I don't think he would have hidden a raw hide out of pure clumsy puppy-ness.
2005 - 2006 - Lived with Marianne in Orleans. Marianne's dog, Lola, was a large breed and I don't think Marianne ever gave her much raw hide. Mocha, Marianne's mom's dog was a small beagle/pig - she wouldn't have skipped out on a treat. Yeah, it was a ZOO!
2006-2009 - Jack and I were joined later by Js in our appartment on Mona Ave in Ottawa. No dog. Jf may have brought over little Romeo for a visit - still no chances of raw hide.
2009 - present - Nova arrived in our lives and we know we never bought her that kind of raw hide. WAY too teeny for her, it lasted about 10 seconds.
Anyone mentioned above is more than encouraged to speak up if you ever intended to play a joke on us to see how long it would take for our future dog to eventually find the treat. It was brilliant! :) Good thing Nova's more of a clawer than a chewer! :)
Oh, to be a dog.
Js comes back up the stairs and walks into the kitchen.
- Honey, where did you get that dog treat from?
- *blank stare*
- That treat that Nova's eating... where'd you get it from? I don't remember buying that.
- *blank stare* Whu...?
As he realizes that I didn't give Nova any treats, both our brains go "What's she eating now!?" and we rush to the living room.
Much to my surprise, Js fishes out of her mouth, a little stick of raw hide, the kind for smaller dogs. I have never bought that. Ever. Neither has he.
I mention the love-seat-clawing session from earlier so he goes and lifts it up. There it is, a brand new, fresh rip right under the seat. Perfect hiding spot for dog treats. It's nicely hidden so at least there is no damage done but it's quite funny.
Now, to figure out where/when the thing came from!!
Here's a brief review of this love seat's life to help shed some light.
???? to 2003 - My Aunt bought this love seat brand new. During that time, she had a cute little dog called Misty.
2003 - 2004 - Maggie and I lived on Carmen Ave in Ottawa. No dog.
2004 - 2005 - Maggie and I lived (again) on Donald St in Ottawa. Surelock lived with us for a couple weeks and he was very very little - I don't think he would have hidden a raw hide out of pure clumsy puppy-ness.
2005 - 2006 - Lived with Marianne in Orleans. Marianne's dog, Lola, was a large breed and I don't think Marianne ever gave her much raw hide. Mocha, Marianne's mom's dog was a small beagle/pig - she wouldn't have skipped out on a treat. Yeah, it was a ZOO!
2006-2009 - Jack and I were joined later by Js in our appartment on Mona Ave in Ottawa. No dog. Jf may have brought over little Romeo for a visit - still no chances of raw hide.
2009 - present - Nova arrived in our lives and we know we never bought her that kind of raw hide. WAY too teeny for her, it lasted about 10 seconds.
Anyone mentioned above is more than encouraged to speak up if you ever intended to play a joke on us to see how long it would take for our future dog to eventually find the treat. It was brilliant! :) Good thing Nova's more of a clawer than a chewer! :)
Oh, to be a dog.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Of labels and long haired cats...
I've been a productive maniac today/night. Got some Holiday shopping done, had a good day at work, coffee and desert with friends and some pretty intense Christmas card-ing.
I don't understand my OCDness. Where the eff does it come from and why is it not on more useful things? Why can't I be OCD about how my hair looks or about how clean my desk is? I find myself obsessing about stuff like Christmas cards and it's completely beyond my comprehension. Why should I spend my precious time and energy planning who's getting which card, looking up postal codes, which pen I'm going to use on which color of envelope and organizing them over and over in the box by size/destination/mailing date when clearly anything else in the world would make more sense to occupy my Saturday night? Beats the crap outta me.
The worst part I think is that I'm aware of what I'm doing. I can perfectly picture myself pulling out the cards that I'm done signing and addressing and labeling telling myself I could bring them to work tomorrow and drop them at the post office. Then thinking "It's way too early! I should wait." then putting them back in the front of the box... no the back... the front was better. I then decided to match each card with it's envelope to make it easier in case I'm in a hurry (what for? it's not like I have a life or anything...) and need a quick fix. Once all the sorting is done, I pick up the ready-to-go pile again and think "Is it really too early to mail them now?" ... decide I'm being ridiculous and put them to the back of the box... wait, I decided the front before... ... I mustn't have been thinking because it makes much more sense at the back of the box.
Seriously!? Why do these things matter? *ugh*
Yes, ladies and gents: It is 4:03am and I can't get a wink of sleep. I'm done with the cards for tonight, so I start reading in the hopes of falling asleep soon. That's when I hear the faint sounds of a kitty going *haaaack-rhaaaaaaack-haaaack*... I give it a couple of seconds... *haaaaack-rhaaaaaack-haaaaraaa......aaack* You know what that pause was right!? The damned hair-ball finally landing on my floor someplace... Great. Shinning with uncontrollable joy and glee, I now have to scavenge the apartment looking for a wee pile of cat-juice. I very carefully make my way to the living room, looking very intently at the floor making sure I don't step in it... and Jack follows me with this look of "Sowwy mummy!" on his face... I'd pet him but he smells. I'm such a loving person. Voila! Right there, right split in the middle of the living room on what looks like face cloth fresh out of the laundry basket, a still-warm little tuft of fur covered in goo slowly seeping into the cracks in the hardwood. Smells delish.
So here I am now, washed hands and all, trying to get back in a sleep mode but it's just not happening and I thought I should share this moment of grossness.
This is what a Saturday night in the life of me is. Humming "Smelly cat" while I organize my hair clips in order of size and color... or maybe strength and durability would be more functional!? *twitch*
I don't understand my OCDness. Where the eff does it come from and why is it not on more useful things? Why can't I be OCD about how my hair looks or about how clean my desk is? I find myself obsessing about stuff like Christmas cards and it's completely beyond my comprehension. Why should I spend my precious time and energy planning who's getting which card, looking up postal codes, which pen I'm going to use on which color of envelope and organizing them over and over in the box by size/destination/mailing date when clearly anything else in the world would make more sense to occupy my Saturday night? Beats the crap outta me.
The worst part I think is that I'm aware of what I'm doing. I can perfectly picture myself pulling out the cards that I'm done signing and addressing and labeling telling myself I could bring them to work tomorrow and drop them at the post office. Then thinking "It's way too early! I should wait." then putting them back in the front of the box... no the back... the front was better. I then decided to match each card with it's envelope to make it easier in case I'm in a hurry (what for? it's not like I have a life or anything...) and need a quick fix. Once all the sorting is done, I pick up the ready-to-go pile again and think "Is it really too early to mail them now?" ... decide I'm being ridiculous and put them to the back of the box... wait, I decided the front before... ... I mustn't have been thinking because it makes much more sense at the back of the box.
Seriously!? Why do these things matter? *ugh*
Yes, ladies and gents: It is 4:03am and I can't get a wink of sleep. I'm done with the cards for tonight, so I start reading in the hopes of falling asleep soon. That's when I hear the faint sounds of a kitty going *haaaack-rhaaaaaaack-haaaack*... I give it a couple of seconds... *haaaaack-rhaaaaaack-haaaaraaa......aaack* You know what that pause was right!? The damned hair-ball finally landing on my floor someplace... Great. Shinning with uncontrollable joy and glee, I now have to scavenge the apartment looking for a wee pile of cat-juice. I very carefully make my way to the living room, looking very intently at the floor making sure I don't step in it... and Jack follows me with this look of "Sowwy mummy!" on his face... I'd pet him but he smells. I'm such a loving person. Voila! Right there, right split in the middle of the living room on what looks like face cloth fresh out of the laundry basket, a still-warm little tuft of fur covered in goo slowly seeping into the cracks in the hardwood. Smells delish.
So here I am now, washed hands and all, trying to get back in a sleep mode but it's just not happening and I thought I should share this moment of grossness.
This is what a Saturday night in the life of me is. Humming "Smelly cat" while I organize my hair clips in order of size and color... or maybe strength and durability would be more functional!? *twitch*
Friday, October 24, 2008
Pho real.
Today was a pleasant day. Relaxed at home, did a bit of house work, shopped with Jf at Ikea and it was productive enough (more so than the trip to Kanata), then... we decided to poo on my good day and get some Pho for dinner... Bad idea!
It tasted great and we even tried a curry and chicken type... and it was tasty but we were so full, Jf ended up taking pretty much the whole thing home. Anywho's... so we get a coffee... walk the dog and chit chat a bit. I get home and start to relax and get ready for bed... and it's like all of a sudden, my stomach turned around and said "Eff you, Pho!" ... and I'll spare you the deets from here on in... Ew.
Kinda strange, but I wrote a snail-mail letter to the man tonight. We had a difficult situation to deal with this morning that was completely caused by me. All is settled now and I'm doing better than I've been over the last couple of days, I guess I just needed to get it out somehow. He called to say goodnight (before the pho-tastrophy) and like ten seconds after, I felt like telling him so many things. I didn't want to wake him and it didn't feel right to say those things over the phone, so I decided to write him a short but sweet kinda letter.
After turning the appartment upside down (which is probably how it's supposed to go anyways!) and adding "Decent Stationnary" to my shopping wish list, I chose a wonderfully cat-chewed letterhead from my old college and wrote from the deep deep bottom of my heart what I felt this very moment. Kinda stoopid, but it felt really good. I know he won't get it for another week, that's IF I get to mail it tomorrow but I already feel better for telling him, even if he dosen't know it yet. Weird. Must be the Pho.
I'm starting to like this blogging thing. Gives me a good excuse for coming up with intresting things to say here... "I won't have anything intresting to blog about... so I have to get out of these jammies and do something today!"... 'cause projectile-pho is intresting! It also gives me a good objective view on what's going on... like we say in french "J'me r'garde aller!"... good thing I didn't choose to blog a couple of years ago... cause the reality check would not have been a pleasant one!
On that note, I shall return to my ceramic-cold lover for the night... and try to keep the cat away from it all!
It tasted great and we even tried a curry and chicken type... and it was tasty but we were so full, Jf ended up taking pretty much the whole thing home. Anywho's... so we get a coffee... walk the dog and chit chat a bit. I get home and start to relax and get ready for bed... and it's like all of a sudden, my stomach turned around and said "Eff you, Pho!" ... and I'll spare you the deets from here on in... Ew.
Kinda strange, but I wrote a snail-mail letter to the man tonight. We had a difficult situation to deal with this morning that was completely caused by me. All is settled now and I'm doing better than I've been over the last couple of days, I guess I just needed to get it out somehow. He called to say goodnight (before the pho-tastrophy) and like ten seconds after, I felt like telling him so many things. I didn't want to wake him and it didn't feel right to say those things over the phone, so I decided to write him a short but sweet kinda letter.
After turning the appartment upside down (which is probably how it's supposed to go anyways!) and adding "Decent Stationnary" to my shopping wish list, I chose a wonderfully cat-chewed letterhead from my old college and wrote from the deep deep bottom of my heart what I felt this very moment. Kinda stoopid, but it felt really good. I know he won't get it for another week, that's IF I get to mail it tomorrow but I already feel better for telling him, even if he dosen't know it yet. Weird. Must be the Pho.
I'm starting to like this blogging thing. Gives me a good excuse for coming up with intresting things to say here... "I won't have anything intresting to blog about... so I have to get out of these jammies and do something today!"... 'cause projectile-pho is intresting! It also gives me a good objective view on what's going on... like we say in french "J'me r'garde aller!"... good thing I didn't choose to blog a couple of years ago... cause the reality check would not have been a pleasant one!
On that note, I shall return to my ceramic-cold lover for the night... and try to keep the cat away from it all!
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