Sunday, March 28, 2010

Blog Tag

I've been tagged!  This ain't no chain letter folks.  (Similar but different)  The task is to open the first folder of pictures on your computer and post the 10th picture in that folder. 

Drum roll please.......... This picture was in a folder labeled "Flash Backs."

There once was a girl named Gator
In her youth she was able to drink like a sailor...

Lots of Drunko was played
The Gator grin often stayed

Until a friend dumped cat litter in her toilet.

The Scene:  College Station Duplex, undergrad at Texas A&M

The Year:  2002 (give or take 12 months)

Roommates:  Gator, Farris and our assortment of fuzzy friends including but not limited to; Sassy the Demon Cat, Macy Dog, Emma Lemma, Callie Pup, and some rabbits.

The Event:  Bunko night, aptly renamed Drunko night.

The Story:  The preeminent party planning Farris organized the largest game of co-ed Bunko in history.  The unfortunate mixing of various potent adult beverages ensued.  At some point in the game, as the picture above illustrates, I decided my outfit would benefit from the addition of my decorated cowboy hat.  (Enter:  Silly hat and large Gator grin) 

Dear Farris ended the evening by getting sick in my bathroom.  To top off this spectacular event, I watched in disbelief as a helpful guest poured kitty litter into the toilet afterwards...  "DUDE...  The box said Arm and Hammer," was his remorseful reply.  The pictured CAT on the front of the bag with the large letters spelling CAT LITTER apparently went unnoticed.   

Moral:  Bunko, although great for improving one's arithmetic, has been scientifically proven to lower one's level of literacy. 

(Thanks Sister for the tag.  Now I tag Kayla and Jessica!)

Monday, March 1, 2010

Deal Breaker...

The search is on for a new Gator abode.

Although living in 650 square feet for the last two years has been nice and cozy… I believe it’s safer for all parties involved if we get the F bomb out of here before there are any fatalities.  Why tempt fate?

This search has led me to a list of “Deal Breakers.”  Feel free to add your own.

Any place that has more dead roaches than windows.  Dead bugs painted into the corners are also a really bad sign…  I think it goes without saying any place with live roaches is OUT.

Upstairs neighbors.  Thanks to the Tiny Guy above with the super strange schedule, this is another deal breaker.  The million dollar question;  WTF does he do up there!?  Our current theory:  His day begins with a catapult (KABOOM! at 6:15 am sharp) from bed, followed by a gallop to the bathroom….  Early evening involves salsa dancing and the party really starts hopping after 10 pm with a free weight dropping fiesta.

The smell of kitta piss.  “It will steam out of the carpet,” in an unacceptable answer.  Mmmm!  Mmmm!  No.

Scary dogs…  Sharing a fence with hungry looking, loudly barking Pitbulls, is a deal breaker.  Especially if those same dogs enjoy sitting on top of an AC unit and glaring over the fence.  Yikes!

Any place that requires 15 hours of repainting and/or is a hopeful candidate for bulldozing…  No matter if I could walk home from my office and my most favorite German Draught House…  (JS’ standards are higher than mine)  The back door that would allow the passage of a small bear while closed, I think, was the real deal breaker for him…  It didn’t help that when JS polled the accompanying children, 2 out of 2 kiddos said they would not want to live in my ghetto-fab duplex, and dashed to the front door to escape the scary interior.  Sad, sad day.

Still up for debate…  The one bathroom abode.  At 6 am when your sweet cheeks is holding court on the only throne, and your pee situation becomes so emergent that the kitchen sink starts to look like the only viable option to your hysterical mind…  The importance of a two hole-er is crystal clear.  I have noticed that the clarity regarding the need for two bathrooms begins to fade in proximity to my office or said Draught House…

And now the countdown is on…  Only four short weeks before we embrace homelessness, lower our housing standards, or (please Sweet Baby Jesus) find the perfect place.  Wish us luck!