These are my pants. They are ranting.

I'm too little

One day the boy said to me "you are too little to be this angry".   He said this after my very inconsiderate roommate left a note asking the rest of us to be tidy (mind you, she leaves shit shadows in the toilet, her hair [even the crinkies] is everywhere, she never takes out the trash, she doesn't unload the dishwasher, and her towels smell like 100 year old donkey scrotum).

Today is another one of those days where the complete thankless actions are making me see white spots I'm so irate.   And it's little things.   Little things that are so stupid and so petty and so thoughtless and so bullshit that are making me absolutely red with rage.

Taking it easy

Actually, feeling quite the opposite.   Taking everything sort of hard today and the yesterday and last week.   On top of daily weirdness, I am also apartment hunting.   And apartment hunting in NYC is like getting your organs sucked out by a roto rooter    slowly, one by one.

Put a chip in this kid

Any idiot knows that sociopaths start small, with woodland creatures, pond dwellers, small domesticated critters.   This story saddens me because I used to be friends with all the ducks in my Mentor, OH pond when I was in 2nd grade.   To find any of them hurt would have devastated me.   Even though one of the Canadian geese beat me up for chasing him down the street (for hugs!) I loved them all.

Anyway, someone needs to put a chip in that kid that goes off when he:

• hangs out at school bus stops when he's 40
• goes to purchase a handgun and hammers
• enrolls in sniper class
• applies as a caretaker for toddlers
• offers to dog walk
• becomes a park ranger

Roomate avoidance tactics...

Yesterday was easy.   I came home, went to dinner, and went to the boy's house for sleepy time.  Today will be harder.   I'm way tired.  I need to be home to eat and clean my room.

And that stupid asshole that turds on the toilet seat will no doubt be there.   I mean, spend some time at your ugly boyfriend's house.  Try that.

sheesh.

Its a hard habit to break

Who sang that?  Eddie Money?   Take me home tonight! I don't wanna let you go til I see the light?

Man, where the hell did THAT come from?  Sheesh.  Anyway.  Speaking of habits, why don't have healthy coping skills.

Meatloaf: the final frontier

I grabbed the masking tape...

I used the plastic bag as a glove...

I taped the garbage can up...

... and kicked it out the door

"SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!!!" I yelled as the garbage can fell sideways and I heard a soft rodent body richocet from the bottom of the can to the side to the top to the bottom.

I re-erected the can and skip, tripped, fell, ran down the stairs of my apartment and out the door into the cool NYC evening.  I placed the masking taped garbage can on the ground and stared.  Now what?  I stood there, hands on hips, hoodie doing nothing to protect me from what was now a chilly evening.  I glanced up and down the street.  No one was coming down Waverly.   Up again, I see a man in "a denim suit" (you know, jeans and a jean jacket).   I was buoyed by this... he would be manly and help me.. but as he got closer... whooooo billy, no way!  Toothless, lurpy, and lurching from side to side.

I hear a ruckus.   I look up and three people - two adorable girls and their hipster manfriend - decend the stairs.  I scare the shit out of the first girl and hoot "CAN YOU HELP ME?!??!"

Standing there, hair all crazy, face overly hopeful.... next to my tall kitchen garbage can with masking taped lid.

"I live here, I live here... there's a mouse in here... my roommates.. I don't know ... freaking out... can you help!?" - me, definitely still scaring the girl.   The manfriend says "calm down, here, they're just mice."

"Go up on the stoop, and I'll let the little guys out... and look I have cheese!" - the curly haired hipster manfriend waves, ironically, a block of cheese in my face as he gently unmaskingtapes my can.

*rustle rustle* - the garbage bag... as the WIND CATCHES IT, INVERTING IT and sending TWO MICE... TWO!!!   for a tumble down my sidewalk.

One of the hunchbacked offenders was "in bad shape" and the curly haired hero said... and he was limping in circles.   The other?  He darted off for a new can of scraps.    The gimpy one walked it off, talked himself back to 100%, and after a few single square dances on the sidewalk, he was off and I screamed up and down my sidewalk.

The girls laughed at me, but, as the boy knows, it's a scream I can't control.  The rodent-in-sight scream.  I thanked them profusely and walked happily up the stairs with my mouse free can.  I was in the middle of calling the boy to give him status when I inverted the garbage bag and threw up in my mouth.

After over 24 hours in that bag, those two mice definitely peed and pooped their faces off.  What a smell.

Meatloaf watch 2007: red alert

ok.   I have moved one of the garbage cans out from the other one.   I hear nothing from either of them.  Which means maybe Meatloaf is taking a nap.  Which means I should just grab the bag and run, toss it, come back up here and freaking relax, right? 

I just stood in front of both garbage cans staring intently, unable to move... for about 10 minutes.   What the hell is wrong with me?!  He's small, he's grey, he's a MOUSE.  And I'm totally paralyzed.

Damn you Meatloaf, you won't get the best of me tonight!!

Meatloaf "jessica mclure" update

Ok, so the mouse didn't fall down a well, but that little feller is still flopping around in my garbage can.  No, this is not animal cruelty.  I'm not the one who pooped under the wine rack, or on the window sill, or on my Citarella bag I sometimes use for lunch.  I'm not the one who was scurring madly around the apartment with the lights off, scittering over the garbage can and not realizing it's a tippy toppy lid.

I left this morning, and as I locked the door, I hear him doing the "The Descent" sidewall scramble.   I took down my super's number, whom I'll call to see if he can help - but meanwhile, Meatloaf is still chillin' out either in my recycling o rmy regular garbage.   Neither are fun places to be.

Ok, and I'm a little shy about calling my super right now because I don't want people to hear me say "yeah, he's still stuck in my garbage can, flipping around"

Who let that elephant in here?

Because it feels like it totally kicked my ass.   I feel like 8 shades of shit.

Here we go again.

Combatting recent depression with the following:

• mini quiches for breakfast every morning (cooking them tonight)
• smiling REGARDLESS
• easing off the vino (yeah, we'll see)
• letting the boy do what he suggests we do (instead of me overthinking and trying to control the situation - I'll actually just go with the flow)
• going for walks every day starting tomorrow regardless of the weather, the air feels fucking great
• being as honest as I can with myself about what the fuck I really want out of life
• buying the Amy Winehouse CD

Sounds like a decent plan, right?