Home Life: I'm getting too old for this shit...

So, here it is... my first blog that has nothing to do with travel.  Here we go...

I realized today that I'm getting older.  I'm not OLD yet, though some of my younger friends would probably try the ol' "Hey, gramps" routine on me.  A word to the wise:  You don't wanna let the tiger out of the cage, man.  I may be older than you, but I can spaz out like nobody's business.

Spring is on its merry way, the snow is melting again (thanks Al Gore for all that global warming, asshole), and I can fully see the asphalt of the streets... though looking at all the dirt and gravel that was under the snow is just beautiful, right?  Especially when it flies into my windshield from other cars' tires.

Ahh.  The beginning of spring in Minnesota.  Ain't it grand?  It smells like a cold, damp rot.  At least the sun's out more and I don't have to wear my giant parka when I go out the door.  Now I grab the slightly lighter weight jacket instead.  Yay.  Anyway...

The reason I know I'm getting old?  Squirrels.  That's right, mother fucking squirrels.  

I want them off my lawn.

And, I think any expert will tell you that squirrels are a gateway pest to kids (thus making the transition complete into old age).  Acting like they own the neighborhood.  Fucking kids.  Wait!!!  I shouldn't state it quite that way... I didn't mean it THAT way, you sicko... I'm no asshole pedophile!

In our neighborhood we have a shit-ton of gray squirrels -- more active now that the weather is warming -- and we have a shit-ton of oak trees too.  And they're dragging their nuts all over my yard.  (Sorry, I couldn't help the obvious joke. I am, after all, a simple man.)  And while grays don't try to get into your house like their red cousins, they do everything to make sure your life is a living hell.

They chatter all the time.  Might as well be a fucking blue jay, the asshole of the bird world.  They run around, taking chunks out of the top of my fence, always rummaging throughout my yard, running in front of cars.  

People actually slow down for squirrels.  These are the people I'm aiming this particular post at.  If you slow down for squirrels, they win.  We can't afford to let them win.  You gotta put 'em in their place people!

Despite what you may think, it will not hurt your car.  Unfortunately, this will not hurt the squirrel population either.  And no one will care.  Honestly, they won't.  And if someone does care, screw 'em.  They can take their bleeding heart and join the furry fuckballs up in the trees for all I care.

And hey, if squirrels are too dumb to get out of the way of two tons of speeding metal, then who's to blame for that?  Listen squirrel, you aren't one of those garbage hoarding, bandit wannabe raccoons now, are you?  

Okay... I can understand it a little if you're with kids and they have a "thing" about running over squirrels.  Though you might as well teach them now that squirrels really deserve it.  Maybe make a game out of it.  

"Hey kids," you yell out from the driver's seat of the minivan, "Wanna play How Many Fucking Street Rats Can I Run Over?" And the kids will squeal with delight as you knock tiny squirrel bones into next week.  

"Go for the record, Daddy!" little Johnny shrieks.

But Jenny, the youngest, is having a difficult time with the game.  She sits in her car seat, staring out the side window, wincing as each squirrel bounces off your bumper.

"It's okay, Jenny," you reassure her.  "God made all these squirrels for us to play with.  It's in the bible, I think."  You smile.  She half smiles back.  

At certain times, you really can't stand Jenny.

She comes around a little, still hesitant.  But when you get two at once that were clearly conspiring to take over the neighborhood, Jenny lets out a big belly laugh, the kind that lasts for days.  You think to yourself, 'I guess Jenny isn't all that awful afterall.'

This is the kind of shit that can really change our world for the better.

Now, if I had my druthers, I would get a wrist rocket and blast every single one of those varmints as they stepped on my property line.  WHAMO!  I'd watch their bodies shoot out into the road, or better yet the neighbor's yard (the one that I can't stand).

"Why?" the squirrels would moan just before they took their last breaths.

Unfortunately, the population density is just a little too dense... in a couple of ways.  I'd have to consider the background with each shot, and I can tell you right now I wouldn't be able to take one shot without a neighbor calling the cops.  Assholes.

I've tried getting the dog to become inspired when she sees the little fuckers.  But, she's a labrador, not a great guard dog.  Hell, she's great at barking like the bejesus when people come up the driveway, but once they've made their way inside she won't do anything except perhaps lick them to death.

"My sisters dogs have killed CATS.  That's cats... with an S!" I screamed at her once.  "What have YOU done other than get your filthy paws in the garbage?"  

She seemed a little sad, but I think it was a ploy.  Her tail was wagging slightly, looking at me expectantly.

"Get out there and earn your keep," I said.  "Go thrash one of those Sciurus griseus until it croaks."  She stared blankly at me.  

"That's latin, dipshit."  Her tail wagged again.

I even thought about getting one of those live traps.  It's basically a metal cage with a little booby trap inside it.  They knock the booby trap, it's game over for the squirrel.

But then I would have to figure out where to dump it.  And hell if it's going to be anywhere near my house.  I'd be better off shipping it UPS to somewhere in Australia.  I'm sure dingoes would love a new menu item.

I don't have that kind of time, nor do I want to spend that kind of cash in shipping when I have at least 4 million little, puffy tails in the vicinity.  

So, what's a guy to do?  No live trapping, no shooting, no vicious dog attacks.  I guess I'll just stick to my game and go for the record.  I'll do it for Johnny, man.