Monday, April 12, 2010

The Gopher Mocks Me

For the past year, my backyard has had a Gopher which undoubtedly has turned into the Gopher and it's offspring, which has continued to tunnel and tear up my yard. We've shoved the hose down countless of fresh holes (One time even managing to get it stuck four feet in the ground. Intelligent fucking rodent). We've shoved poison down its holes. We've sat outside with BB and pellet guns, waiting for it to rear it's small little rodent head out of one of its many holes. I've even sprayed the entire backyard with weed killer in order to try to deter it, kill it, make it go away.

It won't leave. It won't leave permanently, anyway. It seems to pop in between my horny neighbors' yard and my own, and probably some of the other neighbors yards as well. No matter what we seem to do to get rid of it, shy of blowing up the backyard, doesn't seem to work and since it's been mocking me the past two days, I'm even more determined to kill it.

We've been tearing down the pool we've had in the backyard for about the past ten years or so, a rather large dough-boy. It's gone through numerous liners which all seem to fail and allow grass to grow through, it's suffered through the Gopher tunneling under it, making some parts underneath the liner cave and sink. And It's suffered from greenness (lack of chemicals). It just got to the point where it was hard to keep up with the upkeep of it, especially since chemicals aren't cheap, so it was decided that we (as in me) tear it down. And the Gopher seems to enjoy mocking me while I carry out this mission.

Yesterday, while pulling pool parts onto the concrete so the lack of sun wouldn't kill the grass (or what's left of it), the gopher presented itself two feet away from me, nibbling on some grass. I lacked in hand killing tools, and as I reached for the area I heard it (with gloves on of course), it got away. I shoved a handful of poison in three of the holes nearby and when I went to put the poison away, one of them had been filled in by time I had returned. I hoped the poison would take effect.

Today, while filling in the area where the pool had been in, I came across a tunnel in our man-made hill which I was getting the dirt from. I continued on digging and filling up the pool area, when suddenly the Gophers little rodent head reared itself out of one side of the tunnel. Bye time the shovel had come down where its head had been, it was gone (and not in a dead way).

I am determined to kill it, but the poison doesn't seem to work. Trying to drown it doesn't seem to work. Weed killer doesn't seem to help. My dog is defective, he doesn't seem to help. And trying to shoot it doesn't seem to work either with the network of tunnels it hides in. I need explosives. Because it will die, one way or another.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Off Limits

There are definitely points in time in my life where I just want to turn around, bitch slap someone and say “what the fuck”. Especially to my neighbor.

Ever since he’d moved in next door he’s been oogling me to the point of even trying to make a go for my pants. Not that I didn’t look when he first moved in (before he acquired a beer belly and a disturbing red beard), I did. But I was also desperate (very). I hadn’t had much (any) male contact for about two years which had been even remotely similar to dating.

When I had started going out with guys again, he took notice. By that time I had definitely lost interest in my not so hot neighbor. However, he’d watch my dates walk me up to my porch after our date (or in some cases see the pathetic jerks drive off). Then take that as his que to launch right in through text message, calling, or sometimes catching me unawares while I’d be out going to my car or collecting mail. Poor fool for not realizing I wasn’t interested. And I, not having the heart to tell him off, just tried avoiding him.

He was fairly persistent though, especially when I’d been dating Air Force Fag. He could have seen us together and by time Air Force Fag had driven off, I’d be getting invited next door. He didn’t think it was a problem I had a boyfriend. He just wanted to have a little fun with no strings attached.

No strings attached you say Not So Hot neighbor? Well aren’t you just a barrel of laughs. Being the type of person I am, I could never cheat. Even if I knew a relationship would never last. And if I were to be tempted to cheat, wouldn’t I want it to be with somebody remarkably better looking? With somebody who had a bit more to talk about than weed, baseball and hockey? I am more content at the moment with sitting and talking with my fiancĂ© about absolutely nothing and watch him pick his nose, than sit there with my neighbor and talk about that crap. I have almost no interest in sports and I hate drugs. I’m pretty sure that would cut down the topics of conversation.

Even when he has been told off, he just hangs out on the sidelines, still watching me wash my car or do yard work. Occasionally he’d text message me, which is somewhat easy to ignore.

I guess I just don’t understand how many times you need to tell a person no in order for them to get the picture and just move on. It's not that I play hard to get; I don't. I play 'I'm off limits, don't touch me.'

Friday, April 2, 2010

The Little Things

It's interesting that something as simple as a letter can bring a smile to your face.

On my never ending quest to get the house ready to go, I came across the stack of letters I'd received from my fiance when he was in basic. They were sitting nice and orderly next to a pile of school work on the floor in my former bedroom. I grabbed them and sat on my parents' ridiculously over sized California King bed and sat there, pouring over them. Reading them in the order they had been sent.

At the time we hadn't been a couple. Just good friends who were obviously attracted to each other, but each of us held back by something (Mostly just stupidity, on my part anyway). To sum it up, I was wasting my time with an Air Force Fag, and he had just gotten out of something with a woman I prefer to refer to as Harpy.

He'd left off to basic in March, on his birthday. I kept giving him my address and made him promise to write me, after all, he wasn't going to be giving my phone seizures anymore with our constant text messaging so how else was I supposed to talk to him? They took his phone when he got there.

I was so anxious to get his first letter, with our line of communication hindered, it felt like something was missing. When I finally did get my first, my father had brought it in and gave me a smile and a hard time over receiving something from him. Apparently it was quite a shocker when we asked his permission on marriage. Harhar Daddy, harhar.

The phone calls that he managed to make my way when he'd finished talking to his family, the letters, the text messages. I'm not sure if it could have been any more obvious. Had I known a year from then that I'd be engaged to that man, it would have made a lot more sense. However, had I known five years ago that we'd be getting married, I'm sure both he and I would have gotten quite a laugh out of it.

There's a fine line between love and hate. And Sometimes you have to do one before you can get the other.