August 5th, 2011

Tea Club What Did You Say

(no subject)

copperbadge prefers a good fight to all this sneaking around:
Someday, hopefully someday soon, I am moving out of this flat. And when the next tenants move in, they're going to have to change a lightbulb someday. They're going to notice the duct tape over the screw holes in the light fixture, and then look at all the other fixtures and see the same efficient taping job, and they are going to think I was a crazy person.

For those of you who don't know why I taped up all the holes in all the light fixtures, I will elucidate: WASPS.

Last year at some point, possibly early this year, I kept finding wasps in my bedroom. Unsettling, I think you'll agree. So I killed them, and more wasps came, because this is the terrible thing about wasps: THEY SMELL DEATH. When a wasp dies it emits a hormone or pheromone or something that tells all other wasps, hey, I'm dead! Come find out why! Which is why after I killed the first one, they kept coming.

I figured out they were coming in through the light fixture in my bedroom ceiling, so I taped all the holes shut. Clearly they were in the roof, because they then started coming in through the light fixture in the living room. This fixture has a fan attached, which did lead to one very funny incident where a wasp landed on the fan and I turned the fan on, thinking it would fly off, but it just went around and around, clinging for dear life, and when I stopped the fan it sort of tumbled dizzily to the ground. WHERE I DESTROYED IT.

The upshot is that all my light fixtures have tape over them, so the wasps can't get in. My landlord did find the wasp's nest eventually, though not until after a maintenance worker on the roof was stung in the FACE by one of Satan's tiny hellbeasts. But I guess some new wasps got the same idea the old ones did and built a nest, because this evening, sure enough, one of the wasps got past the tape.

So I'm standing in my bedroom, knowing the wasp is caught in the light fixture, whacking the light with the end of a broom handle, shoe in my other hand for when it finally breaks free, thinking I'm going to have to retape my light, wondering what my successor tenants will think of me.

AND MY MOTHER CALLS ME.

And I know she's had a bad day because she texted me about it earlier, so I can't just pick up and say "Wasp issues, call you back" which on a normal day she would, sadly, understand. So I set the broom down and put the shoe away and answer the phone, going into the kitchen where the wasp will probably not follow, and we have a forty-minute chat about how horrible her job is and what she should do about it and all I can think is, has that motherfucking wasp escaped the light fixture yet?

Which I found out it had when I hung up and went into the living room, where it landed on me and I killed it with the roll of tape I had fetched from the kitchen drawer in anticipation of re-taping the cracks.

Duct tape really does fix everything.
Context has omg bugs.
yummy beer!, yummy

(no subject)

in a post that asks "why do you keep living?", arjuna_lj shares:

Because when all is said and done, it's fun, and - more importantly - you only get one shot. Even at the sad, ugly, painful, chaotic, horrific or boring bits. And there are many of those. But there's just as many good bits. It's all worth experiencing, every second of it; it all makes you *you*, it all *matters*.

Living is a constant slog - through glorious, frustrating, impassable, beautiful, terrifying, chamaeleonic nonsense. If you're asking is there a point to it all - well, I don't know. Does there need to be one? Really? To me the mere fact of the process, the sheer absurdity that Man *is* at all, that we, all of us, get to do this insane self-aware thing even for a second, let alone *years*... man, that's brilliant. Absurd and brilliant and utterly, beautifully daft on every level. I appreciate that's not enough for some people, and fair enough. But for myself: more please.


from here