Squirrels are from Hell

I have had some requests to tell "the squirrel story", so here it is. Warning: If you get creeped out (like me) by the sound and or sight of furry rodents - proceed with caution...

I used to think that squirrels were cute. In college, I used to feed them from my lunch as I ate on campus. I loved their tiny paws and their bushy tails. Now, I know the truth. Squirrels are satan's spawn. They are rats in thinly veiled disguises and I hate them.

There is, of course, a story behind this. It's a long one, so I will break it up into chapters for you.

Ch. 1 : The Runkels Hear a Friend

One lovely spring morning as Hal and I were headed to the office, we heard a strange noise coming from the hallway bathroom. It sounded remarkably like the sound of me typing these words - clicking, clacking, and scratching. We went in search of said noise and as we got closer to the sound, we also heard a high pitched squealing. I don't remember much else because I either fainted or ran outside - in either case, I found myself sitting on the front porch breathing deeply so I didn't throw up. Some....thing was stuck in the walls of my house. And here's the best part. Hal was headed out of town for 5 days.

to be continued...

So, I've Got That Goin' For Me...

I have to hand it to QVC; they are speedy in their delivery of goods. Less than 36 hours ago, I purchased Tony Little's Rock and Roll Stepper, and as I was eating my lunch (oh, the irony) it arrived on my doorstep.

I am giddy with anticipation. Just to think that with just 5 minutes every other day, I too can have a rock hard bootay that Tony can .... spank? Yep - that's the cover of the dvd that came with the stepper. Tony Little creepin on some coed's fanny. Who exactly is he marketing to with this cover? Am I, the female buyer, supposed to like this idea? So, let me get this straight... Not only do I have to fear falling off of this cockeyed stair stepper, but now I have to watch out for Tony Little's grab happy hands around every 1950s Studebaker car I see? Screw that. I'm sticking to my cookies and ice cream. At least I'll have my dignity.

Curse You, Tony Little!

I feel so dirty. I actually watched...and bought something from QVC last night. I was bored and feeling sorry for myself when in a moment of weakness (and after a huge bowl of ice cream mixed with crushed cookies) I flipped the channels mindlessly. I should know better. In the past, when I've channel surfed like a tv whore I've ended up watching old reruns of TJ Hooker and Saved By the Bell. Nothing good can come of it, I tell you.

Well, last night, I reached a new low. I came across a Tony Little infomercial and while I told myself that I would watch with the sole purpose of making fun of him, something odd happened. The sheer size of his enormous thighs and the sway of his ponytail hypnotized me and I ended up watching the entire infomercial. Sure, I laughed. How could I not. He was selling something called the "Rock and Roll Stepper" - an inane device that looks a little like a sled for midgets and he was surrounded by rock hard babes in lycra with fake tans and plastic boobs - all smiling their way through a "Rock and Roll Workout", Tony-Style.

Don't ask me how it happened, but somehow I ended up buying into his promises of health and happiness for just two low payments of $34.95. I bought the thing. It should arrive in 7-10 days and I'm not sure how I will explain it to my family. Maybe I'll tell them that we're adopting a midget and I want to get ready early.

You MUST watch the video of this, for the sheer visual of me trying to do this thing. My favorite part is the grandma they have in the back who is barely moving. You have to watch the whole thing so that you can hear the host tell everyone that buying this is better than saving for retirement. But I assume no responsibility if you end up being seduced by his 'tail as well. Don't come crying to me if you end up with one too.

Six Little Ducks Went Out to Play..on I-85

Ok, so my morning started out with an extremely weird and disturbing event. After dropping the kiddies off at their respective camps (thank GOD), I hopped onto the interstate to make my way into work. It was a beautiful, sunny morning and Stevie Ray Vaughn was growling his way through The House is a Rockin' on my radio. All was well with the world.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something small moving across two lanes of speeding traffic and into my lane. The cars in front of me started to swerve; I gripped the steering wheel and leaned forward to figure out what it was that they were trying to avoid. When I got about 15 feet away from what I thought was debris, the little moving items came into sharp focus.

A mother duck and her six furry little ducklings were gingerly crossing 5 lanes of speeding Atlanta traffic and my wheels were about to break up the family, so to speak. I had enough time to think logically that swerving to miss this little group would be very very bad for my own health, so I fully braced myself for the inevitable sound and my ensuing nausea . It never came. Miraculously, my car went right over two little duckies as Mom looked on. I'd like to think that they made it all the way across with similar good fortune, but their chances weren't good.

Oddly enough, my first thought after barely missing them all was about guilt. I felt for the mama - she must feel so guilty for leading her innocent little fluffy ones into possibly the most dangerous situation possible. I wonder what her last thought was - if ducks have thoughts, that is. Maybe she was cursing herself for taking a wrong turn. Maybe she was blaming her man for giving her the wrong directions. Or maybe she just snapped and got sick and tired of all the quacking and squawking from these dang kids. Who knows? I am just glad that my tires weren't the ones to send them to meet their maker. I don't think I could ever play duck duck goose with my kids again.