n.b.- I’m dashing this off before my plane takes off for SLC. It will sound more disjointed and unfunny than normal.
I hate pigeons.
The little weasels-with-wings have been camped out on my roof since the roof existed. They camp out on my roof so they can keep their beady little eyes on the dog food left in either neighbor’s backyard.
They leave PILES OF CRAP on my back patio and my front porch. Surprisingly enough, I don’t appreciate their volunteer fertilizer. I was mad as hell, and I wasn’t going to take it anymore.
Nelson, the wonderful bug man who rid me of Mr. Stingy agreed to climb up on my roof and install FIVE INCH LONG METAL SPIKES along my roof. Now, I have no pigeons (I was secretly hoping for a dumb one to commit hara kiri so I could make a shish kebab joke) but my roof looks like the barbed wire used on top of the Berlin Wall.
[Soon: Picture]
While Nelson was installing the pigeon wire, Dim and I installed a ceiling fan. Boy, nothing tests your marriage more than hanging a heavier-than-it-ought-to-be light fixture and large amounts of electrical current on four hours of sleep. We were ready to kill one another after installing it, but hey, it looks neat:
[Soon: Picture]
I’m off to Salt Lake City, land of Mormons and Greeks (and two black people) for the weekend. My cousin, Alaina, is leaving for college, so we all must roast dog-looking animals on spits, drink heavily, and dance like fools. It will be a blast. I’m bringing my camera for evidence.
The formal invitations are a dead giveaway that it’s a Greek bacchanal. They said: Please join us yadda yadda graduation celebration yadda yadda.... “Party starts at six, lamb comes off the spit at seven.”
...Gee, when do YOU think the Greeks will show up?