Girly Emergencies At Work

Heh heh. Let's scare the crap out of her.

Ok, after surviving the tortures of two older brothers and many cousins and many years of  living on my own, I do not consider myself too girly girly. I just can’t be. When it comes to bat, bomb or bug disposal, it’s up to me and only me. And I’ve done it all, from getting rid of the bat in my apartment that freaked out when I put on an Enya CD to running the giant raccoon off my deck. That does not mean that they did not hear me shrieking in TX while doing it.

So here I am in CA nervously reading about the death of a guy bitten by a vampire bat (bitten in Mexico, died here) when my desk explodes. Everything, papers and all, went flying up in the air. I hear this whirring noise and IT lands on my bed. My BED!!! Ewww, and it is almost bedtime. Crap.

Okay, it’s like a cockroach — it sees me coming and scuttles away. Great. All right it’s green, that’s good, right? It can’t be a bat, I’ve never seen a green bat. Holy crap, where did this thing come from? My screens are on, my apt door is closed, but it is hopping all over the place. Dang grasshopper.

One trap made from an “I heart NY” cup and tablet later and this sucker is out the door, minus a wee green antenna or leg, sorry dude. But I hope you don’t come back. I’m getting too damn old for this…

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One Response

  1. […] $20 million per year, depending upon the size of the cricket farm. However, after writing my post Girly Emergencies at Work, there’s no way I am going to be raising crickets for a […]

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