Dude. 2016 is off to a rocky start. I’ve had a host of personal issues going on from multiple car break downs, the sale of our house falling through, all the crap with my dad, and now a couple celebs that I genuinely liked have passed away. But I’m determined not to get too down. In an effort to not let you get too down either, I’m going to describe for you a battle I’ve been waging for the last roughly 3 weeks. It involves a lot death. See? Isn’t that cheerful?
Apparently, I’m running both a brothel and a death camp for fruit flies. There is blood on my hands. I’m committing mass murder by – and I wish this were hyperbole – the thousands. I’ve tried everything: vinegar, apple cider vinegar, red wine, xhgdgfbh (sorry, that was me swatting one that landed on the key board), white wine, the little traps you can buy at the store, apple cider vinegar with dish soap, windex, ammonia, and bleach. We’ve called an exterminator who said we’re doing everything there is to do and we just have to wait it out. I will do no such thing. I’ve clapped them between my hand and the wall, my hand and the sink, my hand and the toilet, my hand and a giant blob of paint (that was interesting to clean up), my hand and a painting, my hand and the keyboard, my hand and the computer screen, my hand and the bathroom mirror, and my hand and the back of my husband’s head. But still, they come. I’ve killed ones that are in the active process of bumping uglies. I’ve killed ones that were dive bombing me and my customers. I’ve killed ones loitering and begging for change near the sink drain. I’ve even killed ones quietly sipping their morning coffee. I am ruthless. I show no mercy. I will prevail. I hope you will stand with me in solidarity.
In case my plight did not sufficiently cheer you, I will share a picture with you of me as David Bowie as the Goblin King from The Labyrinth several years ago. Yes, there is a sock stuffed in my pants. ‘Cause that’s how the Goblin King rolled.