Too Much Fun

baseball
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

I'm getting better at rat removal. Oh yay. I wonder if I can put it on my resume now - probably, since I'm reviewing resumes at work and I've already come across one that listed "uses email" as a technical skill and one four page masterpiece that waxes lengthy and poetic about the skills the author used at her deli counter job: "Wraps meat!" "Ultimate customer service!". So dead rat removal from kitchen clearly goes on the resume, along with the meat wrapping that I learned at my own deli counter job in the early 80s and, hey, my extensive and near expert use of email, including but not limited to such high tech phrases as ROFLMAO and occasional lapses into LOLcat.

It only took me 15 minutes of shouting about God to get the rat into the trash this morning, too, and that's counting the time I spent forcing Theo to a) come in the kitchen and b) sniff the body. He went immediately into point like a true hunting dog which would have been more convincing if I wasn't pretty damn sure that both he and Django are terrified of the rats: they won't go into the kitchen at night at all anymore unless I bribe them heavily. Neither will I, of course, which is why there are five bottles of water in my room now.

On Tuesday night we all went to the Asheville Tourists game to watch the Tourists lose. We brought Z, who had never been to a sporting event before and was surprised at how much fun it is. Baseball is great - I mean, I wouldn't watch it on TV or listen to it on the radio or look it up in the newspaper or anything, but as an excuse to drink beer and make a lot of noise while ogling cute guys in cute uniforms it totally rocks. Besides, the players all seem to have their own theme song and when they come up to bat a few bars of it blasts over the speakers along with their vital statistics on the not quite Jumbotron that graces McCormick Field. We think they must choose their own theme song, because the choices are hilarious and one guy, whose name I can't remember, went with the Carmina Burana, which means that he has won my heart forever. Drive your enemies from the field, unknown Tourist! Hear the lamentations of their women!

However, all this constant party party party over the last few weeks has taken its toll and yesterday I snarled at two of my friends who had the temerity to suggest that we go out tonight. They're all going to the 48 hour film festival and my brother is going to the Gray Eagle to see the Sun City Girls on their farewell forever tour. Both of these are wonderful once in a lifetime or at least a year events, but fuck it: I'm holing up alone with a pile of science fiction novels. I'm not going anywhere for a while. I'm fat and horrible and exhausted and besides, I've had the cramps of doom for two solid days and I'm contemplating either a sex change operation or wholesale slaughter of the human race, whichever is cheaper. Check back with me when the weekend comes.