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Monday, July 25, 2011

The art of going bugshit crazy



I have a new-found nemesis. Rather, lots of nemesises. Is that a word? Nemesises? Never mind, you know what I mean. What I would love to do, is kill off the entire insect population in this house. Just in our home, mind you. I fully understand the concept of an ecosystem and that if a butterfly farts in my garden, there will be a tsunami in China, or however that saying goes.

I think that snuffing out so many littles lives is justified in the face of what might happen if I don't; yours truly having a psychotic melt-down and doing something potentially dangerous. Like running naked down the street while screaming "they're crawling all over me!"

The flies are by far the most crazy-making. You have the big, fat ones. They're kinda swarthy, with bristles. If they were people, they would be the kind with shoulders and backs so hairy, they could compete with your dog when it comes to shedding on the furniture. They would proudly show off said body hair by wearing washed-out tank tops. They would also sweat a lot. These kinds of flies are loud. Like tiny chainsaws with wings. They're impossible to kill, because they never bloody land. In stead, they constantly fly around and around at ridiculous speeds, making as much noise as they can. You sort of have to give them a good knock while they're in the air and kill them while they're still dazed from the blow. Then you have the smaller ones. These aren't very loud, but ours like to travel in two's or three's and they keep trying to crawl into your coffee mug. The little bastards always know when you have your fly swatter ready, at which point they will vanish without a trace, until you've put it down.

Pooch thinks flies are terrific fun, though. To her, they're basically special toys that were invented so that she can bounce around like a maniac, trying to catch them. Although she's far more likely to injure herself or knock over furniture.

Tonight we tried to save our sanity by using bugspray. Mister walked around from room to room with a huuuge (seriously pink) can of spray. There's something very odd about a hot pink surface with insects painted all over it. Pooch followed him. She' easily entertained.

I was in the dining room when I heard him shout: "Godammit, dog! Stop trying to eat the bugs that I've just sprayed!"

Not the smartest tool in the shed, her.

4 comments:

haphazardlife said...

One of my cats used to catch flies and eat them. Except the head. And wings. I never understood how he could just spit those parts out, but we'd regularly find a fly head and wings in a neat little pile on the floor.

secret agent woman said...

Nemeses, I think. I don't have many floes come in. But stink bugs, wasps, spiders - you name it.

@Jazz - that's seriously gross! And yet it made me laugh.

mrwriteon said...

We've had a crappy and cold spring and what has been passing for summer so far would make for a decent April day. But the bonus lies in the fact that there are very few bugs this year -- a unique paucity of flies and wasps. Of that I am pleased.

Jocelyn said...

I am so with you in understanding the crazy-making aspect of this...both in Turkey and now back in Minnesota...I seriously feel my eyes rolling around in my head and a deep howl being born in my gut.

Or does that mean I'm Pooch?