They Outnumber Us!


 Warning: If you don’t like profanity, don’t read it – I am quite the potty mouth at times.You stand warned.

I wrote this a couple months back after a wonderful (note that I am being extremely sarcastic here) experience with a mouse glue trap and my 2 year old Brooke.

What a day, what a day…I should have known to keep the kiddies home from school and hide under my covers today when the box of clothes I went to retrieve from my stupid caravan (don’t laugh, it works, it’s the  first *real* investment we haven’t screwed up since our foreclosure and subsequent bankruptcy 6 years ago) broke apart and spilled the equivalent of a water fall in clothes, toys and baby booties across the parking lot…

…Ever have a mouse problem? We do. Little farking farks are cocky little shits, they like to climb my couch and sit on the arm while I watch my House program and stare at me daring me to come chase the little pecker heads…Well I had had enough of them and decided to buy a bunch of glue traps (couldn’t find the “barbaric” snap traps, or at least what hubby calls barbaric…I call it revenge and fucking full on wining the war like satisfaction – snap, snap went the trap!!!) Any who, bought a bunch of glue traps, figured since my (almost) two year old has never expressed interest in the space behind our beat up Panasonic television (heavy fucker of a t.v. too…bastard takes 3 people to move it) I would throw one behind there, or maybe two…well, fucked if I knew she would start expressing insane little 2 yr old interest in that damned space behind there. She found them, they stuck to her and she had it all over my carpet, all over my coffee table, all over her hands, feet, face, neck, chest (how does a kid manage to get it in her shirt as opposed to none ON her shirt?) and in her freaking H.A.I.R!!!If you have ever used one of these things, you would know that the glue is a bitch to get off your skin and clothes if you accidentally touch it. It strings up and sticks to everything within it’s immediate vicinity before you can blink and say fuckity fuck fuck once over…I spent the better part of my day cleaning up a squirming, screaming, partially deaf 2 yr old (did I also mention because she is partially deaf she is bloody loud, like Boeing 747 loud) who did NOT like the fact that I had to use rubbing alcohol with the diaper wipes because if I didn’t the diaper wipes would stick to her face?In the all infamous words of wren and stimpy – happy, happy, joy, joy (my ass!)


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