Monday, March 12, 2007

Another Saturday Night...

Saturday night, Big Star and I were sitting in the kitchen talking about something when it occurred to us to go to the garage a.k.a. "the home for vermin". She went first and I sheepishly followed. She cracked open the door while I hovered behind. We were met by a small rodent staring intently at us. Apparently, the line had been draw because Big Star immediately declared we had to do something about our vermin problem RIGHT NOW. So at 7:30 p.m. on Saturday night, we set out on a "kill mice crusade". On the way out the door, Erin asked, "Why is it I can spend $100 at the MAC counter but not $30 on trash cans?" With that in mind, we headed to Target to find the resources we needed.

I should have known we were in trouble when Big Star grabbed a cart. We did have a list of things to get, however, as is the case when one enters this evil store, other things not on our list ended up in our cart. We wandered through the store beginning with the magazines, which is where I always start no matter what my purpose is. I ended up with a can of peaches, a can of tropical fruit, and peppermint tea before we even got the outdoor section. Strolling along, Erin stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the shiny bright new dishes they had on display for summer. Needless to say, we now have an entire collection of tiki glasses and bowls for our kitchen. I'm just glad she decided against the tiki bar lemonade dispenser. And it's a damn good thing most of the dishes were not pink, otherwise, all hell would have broken loose. I finally pried her away from the new toys to refocus on our mission. We spent a good ten minutes looking for garbage cans when one of the nice red dot men informed us the store was out of trash cans. I was peeved because they did not have the mouse traps I wanted either. (The no touch reusable do-not-see-squished-bodies-of-dead-mice-kind that Meg's parents bought last year.) We checked out and decided to tempt fate at Home Depot. The time now was 8:40 p.m.

We ran into 'the box' just in time to frantically search for mouse traps. Of course, they did not have the kind for which I was looking so I had to settle for the old school break-a-finger-if-you-don't-set-it-correctly-trap. Erin asked me why it mattered. I described how the traps worked but was interrupted when she blurted out, "I have to give them my peanut butter?!?!?!" I just looked at her and requested we get a move on because I could not believe this was how we were spending our Saturday night without the muchachos. She flagged down a Home Depot employee and inquired about their trash cans. He directed us to the outdoor garden section. We marched to the doors only to find them locked shut. Big Star ran down the aisle to hunt down Home Depot man to help us. All the while she was yelling,"Excuse me, Excuse me!! Can you open those doors? They are locked and it's very important that we get a trash can right now. Very important!" He looked at her, then at me. I confirmed the importance. He retrieved another employee with a key who let us into the garden section. The original Home Depot man followed us to the appropriate aisle. After a few minutes of debating the merits of each can, we decided on two of the big wheelie kind. We pulled out the ones we wanted and then searched for covers. Of course, they had no covers for the trash cans. Well that kind of defeats the purpose, and can someone please explain to me how in the hell they have the trash cans but no covers? Seriously! Annoyed and extremely pissed, we left the Home Depot empty handed. The only other venue open was the dreadful Wal-Mart- the one place we both hate with a passion. I can't even remember the last time I walked into one of those disgusting and pathetic stores. I almost dislike them as much as I do the vermin. However, at 9:15 p.m, SATURDAY NIGHT we did not have many options. We headed into wally world where we found two trash cans and some other random things with the help of a surprisingly hot Wal-Mart manger employee man. The highlight of this trip was Erin yelling "It's hot enough to breed sheep in here!" Thereby prompting me to keel over laughing and almost sending all products on the shelf crashing to the floor. It was time to go home.

While leaving the store with our cans, I realized we forgot the mouse traps so back into the hell hole we went. Finally, we made it out of the store with our goods and arrived home around 10 p.m. Immediately, we got down to business. I opened the traps and started to set them however did not get very far because the trap slammed shut on my thumb when I was putting the peanut butter in the little metal thing. I thought for sure I broke my thumb and Big Star just about peed her pants in the doorway after watching the scene. Precisely the reason I did not want these stupid little traps! At that moment, Alex called to invite us out for drinks and pool at the upstairs OPT. Erin was reluctant but I needed a drink after our excursion so we told him we'd meet there in a half hour. I set the trap successfully this time but made Erin put the trap in the garage. Once again, we walked to the door, opened it. All was clear so she ran to the oil tank to check the oil. It was on EMPTY. Great, another reason we needed a drink. Big Star took the trap from me (I could not possibly go out there with no shoes on) and set it on the floor but not before it went off in her hands. This was becoming quite the ridiculous spectacle. We abandoned ship and instead got dressed to go out.

Half an hour later we strolled into the bar to meet Alex et al. He cheerfully greeted us while proclaiming we looked like we needed drinks. He bought us a round of beers and we happily settled in at the pool table where he, Rachel, Rob, and "the Hammer" were playing. Thinking the night could not get any worse, I sat down and all at once saw Mr. Houdini across the room with his friends. Great. Just great. I got up from my seat and positioned myself so I could not see him anymore. I refused to go over there. He and I were in a fight. A huge nearly irreconcilable fight. Last Friday, we had a nice little chat about our situation where he proclaimed he was really busy and promised to stop disappearing blah blah blah. One week later, he had not called yet again. It became evidently clear he obviously was "too busy" playing darts with his friends. You've got to be kidding me. Hello, PEOPLE! For an hour and a half we sat in the same bar and he did not say one word to me. He actually never acknowledged my existence at all. This was the same boy who wanted so vehemently to see me a mere seven days ago. I watched him walk right by us out the door without saying a word. Needless to say, I have no time for him anymore. Yes, it's too little too late you jerk. And to think he had the audacity to say I was being mean last week. I was just wondering how he sees himself in this situation this week? Honestly, you suck.

Instead of dwelling on how awful that hour and a half was, I drank some more beers and decided to accept a dare from Alex. Turns out, Hammer was at the bar seducing a girl with whom he went to high school. Erin and Alex dared me to go up to the couple and wrap my arms around Hammer, wink and ask him how he was. I walked right over to him, put my arms around his shoulders and said, "Hey Hammer, how are ya?" and winked. The girl sitting with him just about died. God, I'm awful but it was hysterical. Alex bought me another beer and we went back to playing pool while Hammer and cheerleader started fighting. After a couple of rounds of bad pool, I decided I needed some shots so I convinced everyone to brave the downstairs with me, however, not before I embarrassed myself. I was quite pissed about Mr. Houdini's snub so I thought I would send him a text message telling him so. Lucky for me, I have one of those phones that fills the words in for you. I typed "You're an ass-" when the phone filled in the word so the message read, "You're an associate" and sent the message. WOW. Honestly, Just wow. I immediately wrote "ass" and sent it. A few minutes later, he responded, "What is an associate ass?" Oh my god color me red and set me on fire! I almost died. Was this night really happening? I couldn't take it anymore so Big Star and I went to the club to have a few shots. Alex, Rachel, and Hammer joined us. We danced, drank, and enjoyed the bad music until I saw Balding Argyle Sweater Man on my way to the bar. I immediately did an about face and told everyone it was time to go. After having a shot of Tequila come out her nose, Erin was the only one prepared to drive (the shot was the only drink she had, and well, that didn't really count). She declared we were going to Denny's. The crew piled into Bonnie and headed to the restaurant. This is when I thought it would be a good idea to call Mr. Houdini to give him a peace of my mind. After three tries, I finally got the number right and thought maybe he answered but I kept saying hello and didn't hear anything. Of course, at the same time I was leaving a message, I was yelling at Erin about not making out with Alex. It went really well. I also managed to call someone else, but I didn't remember (he reminded me the next day). My phone likes to fill in telephone numbers too. Thank god my six or seven phone calls went unanswered. (I was just repaying the favor from the Thursday night I received six phone calls between 12 and 1 a.m.) Seriously, this needs to stop. I was saved by the waitress who came to our table to take our order. When it was my turn, I pointed to something and then decided it would be best for me to just sit there quietly and wait for my food. I have no idea what I ate, and I don't really remember much of the ride home other than the talking mistletoe toy going off on a rant about kissing in the backseat of the car. Oh and Erin yelling at me. We rolled into our drive way at about 4 a.m. As I crawled into bed, I could not help but think, "Is this really my life?"

Lessons of the evening: Just stay home. Go to bed. Never order more than two boxes of girl scout cookies again. Try not to mismanage $1,600. Fix your text message options so words aren't "put in your mouth" and numbers aren't filled in automatically. Oh and despite my very bungling behavior, he's not worth it.

This girl has had enough. So if you're looking for me, I'll be at home reading my 'Travel & Leisure' magazines with the vermin from now on...


Shesabigstar said...

I'm in tears over here...just busting out laughing...hysterical. You just left out one very important part that you may very well have forgotten...the fact that we shared the leftovers from the table next to us at Denny's!

cupcake said...

That is so wrong and disgusting. I'm going to pretend it didn't happen. You can't take me anywhere. Next time I try to convince you to leave the house, leave me at home.

I can't even take it.

Ross Douglas said...

I had a mouse in the old place I used to live at. My flatmate was petrified of mice and asked me to get rid of it.

I bought traps and laid them out with little lumps of chocolate on them to attract it.

After three weeks of finding the chocolate gone and no mouse corpse I decided to stay up and scare the little bugger into moving somewhere else.

At about 3am it appeared. I sat watching it wander around the livingroom sniffling and scratching whatever took its fancy.

I looked down at it and thought to myself "I don't have the right to evict this fragile little creature from my house. After all it has as much right to be here as I do." and decided to let it be.

Two weeks later I was sitting in the livingroom watching latenight/earlymorning TV when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.

In a moment of rashness I hurled a baseball across the room to scare it enough so that it'd leave me alone to watch TV on my own.

As soon as the baseball left my hand I knew that it and Minnie were headed for the same point in space.

With a sickening crunch the baseball smacked down onto Minnie's head and dispatched it to the big cheese factory in the sky.

I'm not ashamed to say that I wept for that tiny little creature that lay dead by my hand.

Let this be a warning to you...

Shesabigstar said...

Mr. Ross Douglas...
I am not at all going to feel sad for trying to KILL these mice. Yes, mice...not just one mouse like your beloved Minnie...mice, a familly, a brood, a gang, better yet: Compadres. And I just can't take's awful.

I was brave enough to lay out the traps last night...and even more bravely, opened the door to the garage twice to check on the progess. One dead, one in the midst of dying, and one very well alive seemingly humping his dead Compadre.

I'm overwhelmed today by the thought of mice, my whole body just itches, and my legs are like Jell-O. This is not ok.

If I had a throwing arm like you, Mr. Clemens, then I'd be firing those baseballs left and right. Are you for hire? We'll cook, serve up some beers, and the muchachos will provide you with plenty of entertainment...what do you say?

Ross Douglas said...

Hello Miss Star,
I always considered myself to more of a Babe Ruth; Overweight and fond of the occasional tipple.
It'd be a pleasure to dispatch some of your unwanted visitors if you're willing to stump up for the flight (I'm willing to fly business class) and keep me supplied with booze (is absinthe still illegal over there?) and pizza.

Shesabigstar said...

If I had more disposable cash, I'd be happy to spring for the flight, however I feel the $$ will be best spent hiring an exterminator. Entertaining as it may be to have you fire baseballs at the vermin, it would only cause holes in the walls...another bill I can't afford. I guess we'll have to settle for the hilarious vision of you playing baseball darts with the mice. If this situation ever happens to you again, you must PROMISE to take pictures!!

cupcake said...

Once again, it's such a shame you're so far away. I'm sure you find it wildly entertaining to hang out at the beach with us. I'm hoping our progress tonight makes a considerable difference in our predicament.

I seriously cannot believe I have not had a heart attack because these anxiety attacks are not ok.