i hate mice and i’ll even say it twice. i. hate. mice.

before i even start telling you this story, i would like the record to show that i am a vegetarian AND that i have even gone months at a time as a vegan, where i ate nothing but tofurky and pretzels. and that i do these things because i love animals.

I LOVE them.

also, i would like the record to show that i love the dog i live with so much that i pick up his poop nearly every day with just a cheap wal-greens bag between my hand and his feces. and after i wash my hands, i then play ball with him for hours on end, even though he carries it back to me over and over and over in the same mouth that has the same tongue he uses to lick ALL the parts of his body.

so it’s not like i just go around trying to kill random creatures. i’d actually argue that the opposite is true.

but OMG THE FREAKING MICE IN THE GARAGE MUST DIE!

they are gross, and scary smart and icky and stupid and ugly and if they come into the house, im moving.

i once caught 12 mice in my Springfield apartment, and I’m sure that David Fitzgerald will be happy to tell you the story of how i thought the mouse poop was bits of chocolate on my counter because i was stupid and naive and could not imagine a world where mice would invade MY house.

i was so dumb. not only did they invade my kitchen, they also had no qualms about going number two right next to my bed. WHERE I SLEPT!

i tried to be nice and all vegetarian-like at first and bought the stupid live traps. but within in one day, they outsmarted it. they somehow used little “mice teamwork” to rig it so they could get the food and escape.

one day.

and once i went to grab a bag of tortilla chip and there were MICE IN THERE!!!!

WHAT THE CRAP?

i ended up giving in and killing them with snap traps. (don’t tell peta).

basically the whole springfield mice saga has led to a deep, deep hatred of the stupid rodents. and when i saw one run across the garage a few weeks ago, i screamed like i was on a roller coaster despite the fact that i was actually on a phone. (sorry diana).

i immediately texted my roommate (the head of the household) that “WE HAVE MICE IN THE GARAGE AND NEED TRAPS”

i even used all caps like that, even though it takes a half second longer for each letter, because she needed to UNDERSTAND.

she got traps. and then put peanut butter on them and set them up.

and we caught one mouse.

and then the other mice figured out how to eat all the peanut butter off the trap without dying.

I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO DO THAT?!? what the crap?

now my roommate has decided to step it up – with electric traps. apparently it will shock the mouse, which then dies in a convenient compartment.

if this doesn’t work, im told an exterminator will be called in.

if THAT doesn’t work, there might just be an accidental fire along the 900 block of quil lane. (mice die in fires right? or do they somehow outsmart that too?)

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monday. monday. (and also sunday night).

a couple lame things happened to me, so let’s share shall we?

first, last night i was backing out of my garage at 10:03 p.m. to go to wal-mart because even though i was supa tried, i had no deodorant and was thinking maybe the people i’d see at work wouldn’t be cool with that and also, that maybe there would be a crazy fire or accident or flood or something and i would have to cover it and my soulmate would be there in uniform and then he would want to ask me out when he saw me from afar, but then he’d change his mind when he got up close because i smelled like icky stuff mixed with gross things. and then BAM!

i hit the freaking passenger side mirror off my car by running into the garage wall.

what the frick?! i was going like three miles an hour. don’t car parts typically have a little more fight in them?

plus, come on, we all know im never going to pay to get that crap fixed.

alas, because i still needed deodorant, my roommate and i re-installed it with some packaging tape and off i went in my newly ghetto car.

then today, i went to work at my little bureau office where i was going to enjoy a day of solitude and BAM!.

my key got stuck in the door at work.

it’s a problem that doesn’t even sound like it should be a real problem.

apparently this happens though. keys just go into doors and never come out. they meet someone special or something among all those nuts and bolts and it’s over. you never get to lock your door again. it’s right there next to “bushes spontaneously combusting” on the master list of problems people have.

the three nice men who work nearby all looked at me like i was a bat-sh*t nuts when i asked for help and their eyes said “cute little girl, are you too weak to pull a key out of a door? ha. ha. ha. let me help.”

about five seconds after that each realized i was actually pretty awesome/sane, and that my key was, in fact, stuck in the lock and their eyes changed to say “woah. this key IS stuck in the lock.”

minutes before committing to unscrewing the lock, a miracle tube of de-icer appeared from one of the men and they were able to lube it up enough to pull it out. (that’s what she said).

and off i went.

the good news is, i totally got to wear a pretty new fuschia jacket today that my mom got me for my birthday (which is sunday). and, mad men is back in my life and as awesome as ever, AND a really cute guy sent me a message on facebook.

as a result, im going to go ahead and put the last 24 hours in the win category.

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needles coming out my middle section / paying hospital bills sucks

remember when i had my gall bladder out?

it’s wasn’t exactly an optional surgery. the stupid organ i didn’t even know i had was causing me to basically bleed through my eyeballs with pain all the freaking time and i kept ending up in the hospital because of it.

so i HAD to have to have it taken out. it was either that or feel the force of God and vomit in ER waiting rooms once a month until i die.

and i had health insurance.

and it covered most of it.

but im still stuck paying back about $1,000 to the hospital for the er visits and the surgery.

and don’t get me wrong. i was in so much pain during the whole thing that i gladly would have signed away all of my future earnings and my children’s future earnings to have it dealt with. (money is worth squat when it feels like needles are coming out your middle section).

but now.

dude, $1,000 is a lot of freaking money. and im just rich enough that the hospital isn’t going to write off the debt as a charity case.

so im trying to be all responsible. im trying to pay it back. i even have a nice little system set up where every pay day the hospital takes $50 out of my bank account.

except, the thing is, i really need that 50 bucks every two weeks.

like to eat and stuff.

seriously.

im that broke.

and see, rich people just don’t understand. to them, $50 smackers a pay check is nothing.

except, two days ago, i had to get two new tires on my car. so that’s another $120.

then i paid $500 in rent.

then i spent $150 on gas and groceries, and $12 plus tax on a johnny depp bag.

and bam!, i’ve got nothing left for the next two weeks. just like magic.

im sure i’ll get by. i’m sure i’ll be fine. and per usual, disclaimer: im not looking for handouts.

but God forbid i need another tire. or worse, i need another organ taken out. because seriously guys, i just can’t afford it.

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