All random, all the time . . .

Maybe that's what I should call this blog. Nothing I have to write is remotely connected.

First off - funny/scary stuff over at What The Heck Was She Thinking. We live in a strange world, folks.

Second - I gave birth to these boys. Should that not be enough for them to want to make me happy? Why do they delight in tormenting me and causing me to scream and run in fear?

Tim and one of his friends have a Sunday evening ritual of cruising the neighborhood streets to check out what people have put out on the curb for trash. Now, they have made some amazing finds (and I always make them go back to the house to check that the amazing finds are, in fact, trash) - a great bicycle, a weird shopping cart thing that Tim converted to a camera dolly for his movies, a flag and pole for Andy's treehouse, a book with over 100 cd's in it and on and on. Oh sure, that initial picture looks harmless enough. Scroll down to see what I see when I'm doing the dishes. Gah!

See what they found yesterday? I was coming in from the garage and Tim sprang that nasty thing on me. I did what any normal person would do, I slammed the door, screamed and ran to the neighbors' house. Today, I cannot turn around without finding the damn, nasty squirrel in my line of sight. I'd toss it, but I don't want to touch it, nor do I want to sacrifice a pair of perfectly good kitchen tongs.

Mike is not so squeamish, but he's delighting in my involuntary revulsion by the creature too. Stoopid men and boys. He is promising me that it will be gone by the next trash day. In the meantime, everyone light a candle to the saint that prevents rabies from badly taxidermied squirrels. This thing is vicious and it's feet are missing. Why are the feet missing? Why is the face so angry? Why is it in my house?