UPDATE: I’m basically a peppermint fairy, and I can’t stop singing the Chip and Dale theme song. Also every time I see something out of the corner of my eye I have a heart attack and think it’s another rat.
There’s a website for a company called Rat Fairy, and I don’t get what they do.
(This photo is not from there, though, it’s off someone’s deviant art. A surprising number of people like to put fairy wings on their rats. Click-through)
I am sitting in my newish flat (new to me, anyway, but actually very old), desperately trying to write the HUGE paper that is due tomorrow that I have been trying to write for weeks but am COMPLETELY UNABLE to focus on, and a MOUSE but more likely a rat just crawled up from behind the oven and across the counter. Fucksicles. Especially since I still don’t have a bed and am sleeping on mattress pads on the floor. I don’t think one could get into my room…
I’m actually way less freaked out by this than I was by the cockroach in my last apartment. I can’t help thinking about the rats of NIMH, and I always loved Chip and Dale: Rescue Rangers. Except I don’t like the black plague, which for some reason always makes me think of vampires.
Apparently rodents loathe peppermint oil, so I’m now procrastinating by hiding cotton balls covered in the stuff in every corner of the flat.
Any brilliant suggestions for getting rid of rodents or getting out of final papers would be appreciated.
My dad told me that when he was a kid in England there was a safety campaign to help kids learn to cross the street with the slogan “Stop. Look. Listen. Cross.” He said that they ended up have to change it to “Stop. Look. Listen. Cross if there are no cars”, because kids kept stopping, looking, listening, then walking right into the path of oncoming traffic.
I just had a conversation with my mom that went something like this:
Me: I hate when my brain noise gets so loud that I can’t tell if I’m making noise or not.
Mom: …What?
Me: Well, when I go to the bathroom at school and close the stall door, I’m so excited about having a private moment that…
It runs in the family. This is like nature vs. nurture does poop: all three of us do this, so is it genetic, did we somehow subconsciously learn the same behavior, or is everyone so excited to poop that they have to have a toilet-seizure every time they close the bathroom door? I know our cousin is the same, since she and I like to text while we poop to share the joy.
Also the sound of my brain noise almost always drowns out my ability to tell if I’m making real noise/making inappropriate facial expressions in public.
My new policy of forcing myself to first do a wall sit every time I want to sit down is just making it so I never get up in the first place.
We can make a synthetic trachea and create suits that protect men in space and under the ocean, but thongs are still the best solution for women’s panty line problems.
Then I thought, “Well, it’s better than alcohol.”
Probably I shouldn’t be ranking my hobbies on whether or not they are worse than alcoholism.
On the rare occasions that I’m not talking about genitals, dead animals, or my conspiracy theories/hallucinations, I am usually talking about the Doula Project, which is the fabbity fab organization I work with to support pregnant people through all possible outcomes of pregnancy. Basically we do the standard doula thing- provide physical, emotional, and informational support- but we aim to be there for people who usually couldn’t access such a thing and might be especially vulnerable. We provide support for people having abortions or still birth labor inductions, and we provide birth doulas for people who wouldn’t usually be able to afford one, or who intend to place their child for adoption. A number of our doulas were clients first, and so appreciated their doulas that they later came back to help other people the same way. I can’t really imagine a better endorsement. Basically this is the greatest thing ever, and is full of amazing people doing stellar work where it’s really needed. I honestly can’t say enough good things about the organization and the people in it, and I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say it changed my life. Certainly I wouldn’t have ended up in New York and at NYU without it, and my path would be a very different one. That’s not even touching on how much I’ve learned and grown as a person through the experience.
Also doulas poop rainbows and unicorn kittens appear when they laugh, and don’t even try to pretend you don’t want that.
Conclusion: If you live in NY, apply to join the Doula Project!
PS: I have another doula related post coming up with all the crazy stuff I’ve been saving, so come back soon dahhlings.
There is not enough mass hysteria in my life.
Also, Sweden and Norway look remarkably like a penis. There is no way I am the first person to think this.
“No it’s okay, we’ve been drinking since eleven this morning.”
Ladies and gentlemen: Izzy, my 18 year old sister. Happy Easter! I don’t think my mother will ever leave us alone in the house again.
Hallelujah, Christ has risen. And so has Izzy’s BAC.