Tag Archives: hate

Karma is with the bride.

Remember that post I wrote a few days ago…you know, about how I’m broke because of wedding season? Yeah, well all the brides-to-be must have gotten together and plotted a scheme against my life because I was complaining. But before I begin the rant on my latest failures…the Sex and The City episode I was referring to was “A Woman’s Right to Shoes.” Coincidentally, when I got home Tuesday night, that was the episode I had reached in my 3-week marathon of Sex and the City dvds.

The best part of the episode is when Carrie calls Kiera, leaves her a message saying “I’m getting married…to myself. And I’m registered an Monolo Blahnik,” and then she gets the shoes (as a wedding gift) from Kiera.

I need to do that.

Anyway, late last week I was doing the usual cleaning of the apartment, when I noticed a cluster of tiny black bugs near my kitchen sink. I figured they came from the drain, so I bleached my sink and drain, and called it a day. Well, that is until I went into my bathroom to brush my teeth and saw another cluster of little black bugs.

Weird.

The next day, when I got home from work, I spotted a few more…not near any sink. One on the wall, one on my couch. I was utterly disgusted, so I got out my trusty vacuum, put the tiniest attachment on it, and proceeded to vacuum my entire place…every molding, every corner, even up to the ceiling.

I was bug-free. Or so I thought.

I had been doing some major Googling, trying to figure out what these little beasts were—they were a little bigger than a flee, body of a beetle, smaller than an ant, didn’t fly. However, many pictures and descriptions I found didn’t help. I searched my flours and pastas for weavals, and found nothing, I searched my mattress for bed bugs, again, nothing.

Tuesday night, I had just wrapped up my nightly routine in the bathroom, waltzed into my bedroom, to see a little black bitch on my clean white sheets.

Oh no he didn’t.

I had had enough. I refused to live in a garden. So I whipped open my computer again, to try and find the answers. A few scrolls down, and I saw a suggestion—bugs that eat cat food. Aha!

So I marched into my kitchen, and flung open my cat cabinet. Eh, saw a few bugs, nothing to satisfy this as the source. The article said to store cat food in air tight containers. So, I found some tupperware for the time being, and prepared to pour. Starting with a box of Friskies, I poured.

What came out of that box was quite possibly the sickest thing I’ve seen in my life. Every single morsel of food was half eaten…and the bugs were there. Everywhere.

I cried.

I cried because it was gross. I cried because I hate bugs. I cried because my cat had been eating bug food and I failed to notice. When I looked in his dish, sure enough, bug city. I was a shitty mom.

I composed myself, grabbed a trash bag, and started to throw everything away—the box of Friskies, any cat treats, even a new bag of Iams (i checked it, to find it oddly bug-free, but I didn’t want to take any chances). I emptied my cats dishes and put everything in the dishwasher. My kitty was left with a hungry belly for the night.

When I got on the Friskies website, I saw many complaints of the same thing. Apparently, I purchased a box of Friskies that was infested, and I was being punished for it.

I could hardly sleep that night, unable to get the image of the bugs out of my head, worried about my cat’s health, and overall just feeling disgusting. At lunch yesterday, I made a trip to the pet store and bought all fresh catfood (I opened everything before I bought it, inspecting for bugs) and it wasn’t Friskies.

I also purchased a large collection of air tight containers. Now, all my catfood, flours, pastas, sugars, etc are stored away, safe and sound.

On my drive home from work last night, I got an e-mail from Jesus Belt, saying the magazine was cutting back on freelancers.

Just what I needed to hear.

When I got home, I saw a few straggling bugs, which I expected. I’m still waiting for the rest of the crop to die of hunger. However, I dragged myself around the kitchen, cleaning once again. I was exhausted of my recent life. I was upset about losing freelance money. And I was tired of cleaning up bugs.

So here I am. Stricken my karma. Because I’m a big, single, bitch. Where’s The Bieb when I need him?

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1 day until the devil’s season begins.

Autumn is here.  I can already feel myself slipping into depression – I didn’t get out of bed until 5pm today.   Which has been my plan for the last week and a half, today was a “personal” day where I did nothing but personal things all day long aka rolling around in my bed until the sheets are balled up and I can’t move to the point where it starts to piss me off.  But, autumn sucks.

Lucky enjoys this time of year because where we come from the air gets crisp, you can open the windows and smell the stench of dead leaves and sewage, and before they all fall to the ground they are kind of pretty.  BUT, when it turns to winter you will witness a 4 man circus out of the 2 of us.  So this is a warning post.  It might be different for Lucky this year since she is dating Matt but in years past come November 1st we both become slightly suicidal and look for tips on the best way to sharpen a razor blade.  So we need to be monitored closely.  It’s the holidays.

Especially New Years Eve.  I like to get so drunk that I forget who I’m with, what year it is, and how old I am (not to mention that I’m single) and in Lucky’s eye’s December 31st doesn’t even exist.

Typically after that we’re all good until February 1st and it’s the same thing with Valentines Day.  Drinking, crying on the phone to each other, bitching about all the romantic dates our taken friends are going on, and eating greasy food until the hamburgers slide off our faces.

Don’t get me wrong, Christmas and Thanksgiving are no peach pie either when we are giving “Thanks” to God for granting not one of our prayers and buying Christmas presents we would have asked significant others to buy us for ourselves. But, NYE and Satan’s Day are by far the worst. Lucky has even gone so far as to send me a “Happy Singles Day” card on said black holiday.   Also, I purchased a tiny happiness Buddha to send to Lucky last Valentines day and a card with a grandma laying on the beach on the cover that read, “Happy Alcoholiday,” (sorry Luck, you made up with lying cheating bastard ex so I didn’t send it.)

Anyway, you get my drift.  If anyone would like to become a designated caretaker for the next 6 months: cocktailsattiffanys@gmail.com

We pay in Chuck-E-Cheese tickets and hugs.

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