Archive for April, 2007
-image-Cleveland (Airport) Sucks!
YEAH so the action-adventures of Hollow Squirrel continue for an extended time in Cleveland. I missed my connection by 10 f-ing minutes.
So the next flight leaves at 4:50. This, dear friends, while sucktacular is much improved from the gate agent’s first offer to arrive in Minneapolis after NINE PM. A mere 8 hours later than originally planned.
I chose to view that ticket as a “first offer” and commenced kind negotiations. I may have even flicked my hair. Thank goodness I used some shine enhancer, cuz WOOP I’m getting in now at least in time to make dinner with friends. Mind you, I would have forced Sweets and Poodle to go out for a later dinner otherwise, by my aging friend, J (who has crested The Hill)?, he would have whined about getting to bed too late.
So Cleveland’s airport. I’ve only been here 15 minutes and already I have some suggestions:
1. Um, you have a spider problem. Rather, Ihave a spider problem because one is spinning a web on this “high speed internet access port” across from the gate I need to be at three long hours from now. Oh shit, where did it go? OMG I THINK IT’S ON ME.
2. This internet port kiosk thingy (near Gate C27)…it’s way too far from the chairs. And the screen is tilted towards the hallway so everyone can see the porn I’m surfing, I mean, my email! Bah! And DUH. And the keyboard — wtf? I this the best you can do? The 7 key sticks.
3. Either post some “NO SKATEBOARDING” signs or get security to make that annoying jackass stop trying to flip his skateboard and then land on it. Or perhaps you could provide a Rent-a-Taser kiosk?
4. WHERE IS A GIFT SHOP WITH GOSSIP MAGAZINES LITERATURE?
5. FUCK THESE SPIDERS.
6. Really? The placement of this keyboard with the seat? Maybe it’d work for Stretch Armstrong or like Kareem Abdul Jabar.
7. The clocks? On the walls here? They all read 3:20. Not even close. But wait, since I’ve been sitting here, a maintenance worker got one of those lifty machine to fix one of the clocks. And by “fix” I totally mean “cover it up witha big black piece of paper.” Much better.
8. Please provide me with Jojo. I miss him.
sorry. I must kill the spider. Please forgive.
YES!
I mean, rest in peace.
Alrighteeoo perhaps I judge Concourse C too quickly… I’m going to make haste (I just finished The Boleyn Inheritance, and I’m pretty sure no one said ‘make haste’ but they should have! Clearly!) (The book, btw, is a fantastic follow-up to the really stinking fantastic The Other Boleyn Sister.)
I’m heading out on a search & devour mission. Wish me luck and cross your fingers that I make it to Minnesota…
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
12:34 pm |
-image-The Runway to Minneapolis/St. Paul
is paved with delays.
But ya gotta love the business center at the airport. For the low price of $.25/minute, I can check email, the uber-delayed status of my plane and send out a HOLLA to the blogosphere. (HOLLA…ok, that one was for Jenna BlueLine).
Sorry to Poodle, who awaits my call from Cleveland to let her know:
a. When she should hop in the shower to prepare for
b. Picking my ass up at the airport so we can
c. Meet up with Sweets
d. And commence shopping at the BFM, aka MOA, aka Mall o’ America.
Can I just tell you… leaving little Jojo at daycare today was NOT easy. He knew. He totally knew. He threw some major dislike towards my efforts to pack and the suitcase itself. He fussed all the way to daycare, despite finding brief moments of elation at school bus sightings.
At daycare, Jojo clung to me like a cute little barnacle and cried NO NO NO when his new (and fabulous) daycare teacher took him in her arms. Hands outstretched, face all scrunched up and turning red… ugh. It was difficult not to cancel the trip.
So far, I’m still going ahead with the trip. The moments of panic (WHERE’S JOJO?) and accompanying guilt at leaving him are recurrent, but I’m also very excited about seeing my friends. YAY!
Ok, I should go check on the status of my stupid plane.
Happy Friday everyone! And thanks again Mrs. Frema for providing me with some fabulous TLF entertainment (currently in my carry-on).
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
10:03 am |
-image-Dividing Lines
sweet sallie mae, I really touched a nerve with the whole “Jack or Sawyer,” and not EVEN because my male coworker went all happy tongue on Sawyer. Oh no. You girls have your preferences!! And those of you who don’t watch Lost? You’re all “I KNOW you don’t want to be my friend now and WHATEVER I hated you first!” Ok, so you weren’t that dramatic, but I felt the defensiveness. No worries… I still heart you. AND, I’m going to make the whole decision a little easier for you by showing you pictures of said characters. There. Below. Jack on the left, Sawyer on the right:
AND, MY GOODNESS, I forgot to mention the biggest betrayal of ALL– for those of you who are watching Lost on DVD, I’m smacking myself for stupidly spoiling the hot dirty Kate-on-Sawyer cage sex. Sorry! Oops, there I go again. Smack! BAH! Ouch! Sorry! I hope you can forgive.
Now back to the menfolk. I’m not posting all of the men on Lost because, well, the competition isn’t that fierce for Island Hottie. In fact, I wasn’t even asking for who you think is hottest (Lizzy). I was just saying, “Jack or Sawyer” because they seem to be polar opposites, and I so heartedly want to lick one and vomit on the other. But maybe that’s just me. Now don’t get all huffy. I actually found a picture online where Sawyer looks quite yummers, but his attitude? Well, I just can’t do it. Sorry. And his hair 99% of the time? Bah. I digress…
After reading several passionate emails (again, Lizzy), it became painstakingly clear that I must build and run a Lost Fantasy Sex Camp. Imagine…what you will. I’m not going into specifics. One thing’s for sure: I get the top bunk. And, our tent is SO covered in Matthew Fox/”Jack” posters a la Tiger Beat, baby!
Please see your Camp Director (moi) for your tent assigments:
The Jack (“Doc”) tent: As my dear friend Sweets explains, this tent houses those of us who want to rock it long time with the “Doc” – “sensitive yet rugged, hot in a responsible, capable, give me a problem and I’ll solve it, quiet, introverted and possibly harboring deep, dark, scary, secrets from his past, I’ve been hurt before and I’m not willing to open up again.” Sign me up.
* HollowSquirrel (duh. I OWN this camp. The rest of you are just here for the week.)
* Isabel
* Maya (btw, love yer new template!)
* NapQueen
* Jeanette (although from her comments, she’d do Sawyer, too. Traitor!)
* AmyW (who would “take Jack, even in a filthy disgusting men’s bathroom in some bar somewhere.” Saucy minx!)
* CPAMom
* Velocibadgergirl (who insightfully likens Sawyer to a “low-rent Viggo Mortensen.” Brilliant!)
* TxMom
* Alison (I think you wanted to be in this tent, but your comment sat the fence. I’m guessing all that Florida sun has melted some brain cells and surely, you mean to be in this tent.)
And speaking of low-rent dirtbags…
On the other side of the camp, because clearly, we don’t see eye to eye, the Sawyer tent. Again, Sweets’ description of Sawyer needs to be shared: “Sawyer = dirty, grease ball, anytime, anyplace, rip off your clothes, smells like stale cigarettes and cheap booze, total misanthrope, needs to take a hot bath, asshole kinda HOT”:
* Dirk (my coworker)
* Sandy (it is sex camp after all; had this been “relationship camp,” you’d be bunkin’ with me! And that’s not a euphemism for group sex.)
* La Turista (I’ll pretend you didn’t say that about Jack.)
* Operation Pink Herring
* K (who seems rather excited for the “dirty-skanky sex” and disagrees with me about the following notice, due to the island’s magical healing properties…)
Important Camp Notice: Ladies (and Dirk!), you’re going to want to make note of the infirmary (located straight past the dining hall, on the left) to get some sort of salve for your genital rashes and pesky crabs (of the crotchal variety).
Okie dokie, and for those of you who just could NOT possibly stand to camp with either of these polarizing survivors and INSISTED through various passionate comments (and personal emails to the venerable Camp Director) that others be invited, separate tents with other Lost hotties have been opened for pleasure:
the Desmond tent:
* Lizzy (OK FINE, you got your way! Just don’t be pissed when he calls you “Penny.”)
* Sweets (“Former monk turned future seeing forlorn fella” who needs a good f-ing. Oops that last part was edited by a ghostwriter. Clearly. Ahem.)
* Desiree (um, she’s hankering for some Desmond.)
And lastly, all alone in The Sayid tent, where we NEVER speak of Shannon:
* Amieable (and yes, Jude Law wears a rug.)
People who are invited to Lost Fantasy Sex Camp so they can watch all previous seasons, thereby forming their own integral opinions about the hottness of the men on Lost:
* SJ
* Rachel
* Jezer
* SillyHily
* Bunny
Now, now, I know a few of you (Lizzy, I’m really just talking to you here) have some… how do I say this… issues deciding. You seem a tad… how do I say this… horned up and angry (not a bad combo, actually). Because I love you, I’m going to move you from the Desmond tent (yes, Sweets, you’ve got yourself a single– woot!) into your own special Lost Rotating Tent of Love, since you seem to find a lot of the island dwellers scrumptious, including, but I’m sure not limited to Desmond, Sawyer, and
Jin:
Ben/Henry Gale: 
Juliette: 
Get some sleep, campers! Remember to bring extra coconut husks for the arts & crafts project!
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
8:56 pm |
-image-Really?
SO remember when I was sharing my awe and incredulity at the different people doing normal things (talking on a cellphone, reading) at stupid times (while jogging, while driving)?
Yesterday, once again, while very close to my office (3 out of 4 stupid incidents occurred very close to my work…frightening), I spotted a woman. Dressed in work-out clothing. Walking in an apparent effort to exercise. While listening to her headphones.
Smoking a cigarette.
Who knows. Maybe she’s taking baby steps to improve her health. Perhaps last year she was walking with a crackpipe.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
8:41 am |
-image-Not that there’s anything wrong with it…
Didn’t I just ask you this question: Jack or Sawyer? No. SHIT. I was going to make that a quadrant question. Well, it came up today at work…
So my coworker Dirk was just in my office. I mentioned that Mr. Squirrel and I finally watched the latest episode of Lost, because on Thursday morning he asked if we’d watched it. You could tell he was itching to discuss what had happened, and he understood, but was disappointed, that we hadn’t watched it yet. Like previous weeks, he seemed annoyed, and I did get out of him that he hadn’t liked the most recent episode. There was harsh words, yet he continues to watch. I think a lot of people feel this way…how can you throw in the towel now?
So today, I let him know I was ready to discuss Lost. After some brief discussions about plot and stuff (ok, I didn’t ask him this, but why didn’t Jack, Sayid or Freckles think to suggest to the others (not “those” others) that they move into the “others’” (yes, the scary others) bungalows? Would you keep living under a tarp and peeing in a hole? I think not.
OK but anyways, I rolled my eyes in disgust and lamented how b.s. it was that Kate slept with Sawyer, because HELLO, Jack! And Dirk immediately retorted with a disgusted “Jack? No way! Sawyer is MUCH hotter than Jack. There’s no comparison! He’s a man. I’ve seen him on magazine covers, and I think “he’s a man!” He’s hot. (insert perverted flicking tongue thingy)”.
No, really, he did the flicking your tongue in and out to be gross and sexual. About Sawyer.
Then he said, “he’s replaced Jude Law for me.”
And then we went into the whole Jude Law wears a rug, but still in The Talented Mr. Ripley, I mean, rug or not… the man was hott. I’ll give him that. He’s a cheater though. Still. Hot cheater.
But back to Sawyer.
My coworker hearts him. Then he said “I wonder who Mr. Squirrel would pick.”
Me: “Neither. Or Kate.”
Dirk: “Don’t tell him I asked who he’d pick. I don’t want him to think I’m weird.”
Conversation dies… Dirk leaves.
I pick up the phone and call Mr. Squirrel (duh).
Mr. Squirrel’s response: “Um, I guess I don’t think of them that way…”
But when I explained and asked who he considers better looking, he TOTALLY placed in my quadrant (which is sooo in the making, people, stay tuned!)
So tell me, is Dirk weird?
Why aren’t the survivors (I forgot, what do they call them? YOu know, Hurley, Sun and the crew) moving into the houses?
And, who would you rather do on a deserted island: Jack or Sawyer? Screw that, I’d do Jack on a dessert bar or any bar or any dessert or any island or basically anywhere. Obviously.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
4:15 pm |
-image-Interview with a (Mrs.) Squirrel
The fabulously funny That Chick Over There sent over some interview questions! All I have to do is answer them. See the end of the post for details on how you can be interviewed by yours truly!
1) You’ve just won a million dollars. What’s the first thing you do? Freak the F out. I know you’re not suppose to tell a lot of people, but I can’t keep my trap shut about anything, so why would I think I could keep this quiet? So besides immediately soiling myself and no doubt freaking Jojo out, I’d call my husband and then call my parents. My mom would then take care of informing all of Michigan. At that point, I’d probably start visibly shaking and dreaming of all that we can do with the money.
And perhaps I’d change my underwear. Nay, I’d buy NEW underwear and donate my old undies to you! No thank you necessary.
My friend A and I have played this game for a while, so a lot of the money is already “spent:” money set aside for Jojo’s & our niece’s college funds, trips for my parents, money for some friends to spend as they desire, new cars for Mr. Squirrel and me, renovations on our house… we probably wouldn’t quit our work or move though, especially since the fabulous Heather B will be moving to the area shortly! Woooot! It’s like we already WON a million dollars!
2) Describe the absolute best day you can think of. I guess this means come up with my own perfect day? Ok! After an incredibly restful, uninterrupted 10 hours of sleep, Jojo awakens us with his delightful babbling at 9:00 am. With naturally fresh morning breath and rockin’ day after hair, we all head downstairs for a breakfast of fresh fruit, pancakes and coffee (milk and juice for Jojo and Mr. Squirrel respectively). Breakfast proceeds calmly, with no thrown food or tantrums, and Jojo even wears the bib for the entire meal!
We then grab our hiking gear and head out for a sunny, beautiful hike. All my cellulite melts away on this hike, and damn, am I toned and tan (but not in a leathery way). On the hike, we take amazing pictures– the camera doesn’t crap out on us, and when we arrive home– holy shit– Debbie Travis and the team from Facelift have not only given us a spankin’ new kitchen, but they’ve also redone our nasty bathrooms AND turned our dungeon-like basement into the most amazing yet practical laundry/storage/workroom/playroom EVER. Dear lord! All in a 3 hour window? Fanfriggintastic.
And wait? There’s more? Oh yes. My parents and extended family are all here to help celebrate! And dad has already fired up the grill for a delicious lunch of steaks, corn on the cob, strawberry shortcake (not grilled actually) and insert other yummy dishes here at your own leisure.
What? Sweets, Poodle, Al, Smitty, Isabel, and various lovely friends arrive, too, to share in the beautiful day, delicious food and friendly company. Jojo takes this opportunity to show everyone the new phrase he’s learned “I love mama!” aaaah gush!
When I run inside to use the new bathroom (and check my HOTT hair), I see on the news that J.K. Rowlings will, in fact, write more Harry Potter books; all guns used by icky, evil and/or stupid people have mysteriously melted into the shapes of unicorns; fair and just governments have prevailed in all elections; the troops are coming home; Iraq, Afganistan and the Middle East are full of love and peace; cancer, autism and AIDS have been cured; the ozone is all patched up; new homes pop up for the homeless; and, the hungry have full pantries and bellies. And that’s just the main stories. Sweet.
But back to our fantastic bbq; after lots of good food, laughs and great conversations with family and friends, Jojo, Mr. Squirrel and me say good-night to our loved ones and head inside for Jojo’s bath (in our beautiful NEW tub). Jojo slobbers on lots of kisses to us and goes down easily for bed; then Mr. Squirrel and I hit the sack– multi-o style. Woot!
3) What is your fondest memory? I have an atrocious memory, so it would be rather easy to pick a more recent memory involving Jojo and my family. But I want to dig a little deeper into the dark and dusty cracks of my brain and pull something out for myself and you. When I got past the recent memories involving the birth of my lovely Jojo, falling in love with Mr. Squirrel, or traveling through some amazing parts of the world, the first memories that came to mind were those involving my grandparents. My grandparents all died way too young, and my parents, brother and I have been without their unconditional love for 25 years now. I’m thankful to have any memories of them at all.
Because I love the three (my other grandfather died before I was born) so very much and honestly do think of them every day, I want to honor them by selecting my fondest memory of each of them.
First, my Grandma W: my mom’s mom, she died when I was six. Is it bad that my fondest memory of this grandmother is of us watching The Joker’s Wild together? We bonded over game shows and card games.
Next, a memory of my dad’s father, Grandma V: This man loved life. He loved my brother and me, and I can still picture him, arms loaded with Christmas presents, carrying them from the big red sedan to our front door on Christmas morning. I don’t remember this, but my parents tell me that he and Grandma always arrived before my parents were out of bed. Grandpa also used to stump my brother and I with “hide Grandma’s thimble” game. Once it was hidden on his pinkie toe. I’m not sure if Grandma used it after that.
Finally, a memory of Grandma V, my dad’s mom– a wonderfully kind woman who made a mean cole slaw. You don’t like cole slaw? Well, you haven’t had grandma’s. Unfortunately, you never will. I have a lot of normal, day-to-day memories of my grandma, which are all very lovely and comforting — sitting on the davenport (seriously! that’s what she called the couch!), watching Lawrence Welk. Not that I enjoyed Lawrence Welk (a one and a two and a…), but I think it was on after The Muppets.
4) Who is the greatest role model in your life? My mom. That was an easy one– I have several GREAT role models — so many that I’m questioning why I’m not a better person. I guess just because I have some terrific role models doesn’t mean I can actually take the good and change all of who I am.
Anyway, back to my mom. Where do I even begin? She’s so amazing that an entire blog should be written about her. Of course, if you go back in my archives and search for stories on her, the stories you’d find would be laced with annoyance and irritation, because who else can drive me batty than my mom?!
But honestly, she’s an amazing woman. She’s intelligent, hardworking, energetic, generous, thoughtful, strong, compassionate, and joyful. I could honestly write for days, but once I get started, it’s difficult to curtail my pride and love. I just deleted two paragraphs because once I told those stories about her smarts and strength, I’d surely have to prove her compassion and generosity. And that would lead to more and more. Just trust me; I’ve spent a great deal of my life trying to be as smart, successful and good as my mom. When I don’t know what to do with Jojo, or when I’m at the breaking point, I actually do think “what would my mom do?” And then things get better.
5) What is the worst smell you’ve ever smelled? Oh hands down the decaying mouse in the wall of our apartment building in Minneapolis. Unbelievable, gag-worthy stank that lasted far longer than you’d think. Am I right, Smitty?
Wanna chance at being interviewed? Here are the details:
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.” If I don’t have your email address, leave it for me in the comments.
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions. They may not be child-friendly; they will most likely be grammatically incorrect.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
9:05 pm |
-image-Dumb, Dumber and Holy Schnikees are You a Moron
Remember when I used to graph your preferences on quadrants? Yeah, that was fun. I’m still doing it, but I haven’t plotted my most recent questions.
In the meantime, if you haven’t told me your preferences, let me know.
And, I can’t decide which of the following behaviors is more idiotic and annoying (to me). If you partake in any of these, I shake my head at you. I also may smirk and roll my eyes. If hungry and tired or hot, I may also snark at you. At least you’ve been warned.
A. Reading a book while driving
B. Reading a book while walking on a walking path
C. Talking on your cellphone while jogging
Seriously, people who do these things and YESTERDAY I saw a woman reading a friggin’ Fabio novel while in stop-n-go traffic (hello, fender bender) AND a jackelope talkin’ on his cellphone while running. The only time you should talk on your cellphone while jogging is if you’re also being chased by zombies or some other unsightly creature. No zombies in sight. Ergo, you’re an asshat in my book.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
1:39 pm |
-image-Dear (insert dumb company name here),
When I was younger and had lots more time on my hands (before Jojo and Tivo), whenever grievances struck, I penned a letter. Thanks to email, letters of complaint are quicker to write, but I don’t feel the same satisfaction as I did when I’d slap a stamp on my “oh no your salesperson did NOT ignore me for 13 minutes while she yakked to her girlfriend on the phone about toaster strudel” letter and getting a gift certificate and concerned letter back.
I’m behind on my correspondence, so I thought I could just write some letters here. Fo’ free:
Dear Publishers of the Touch & Feel Noisy Puppy book,
I realize fake Dalmation fur may be hard to come by. My suggestion: choose another breed to “pet” in this book rather than slip this crazy swatch of faux white leopard fur in to substitute for a Dalmation pattern. A Dalmation’s coat does not look like this. You can even tell this by look at the rest of the Dalmation’s fur. For the love:
Perhaps some of my angst stems from the hyper Dalmation that lived across the street from us when I was a little girl…who had to take refuge at the top of my swingset to get away from the yipping spaz. Still: bad fur choice.
Kindly,
Mrs. Squirrel
Dear Crayola,
How am I suppose to teach my son about colors when I receive mixed messages in my box of 16 crayons?
Note my CSIesque photographic evidence below:
I realize what you see above doesn’t seem like a mystery straightaway. Stick with me. These green crayons vary in degree of green, or greenedness, which I’ve carefully demonstrated. Therefore, their wrappers/sleeves/what should we call these anyway(?) should reflect the different names. However, as you will see below, both wrappers say:
Oh dear Lord I apologize for rocking your world with this engima.
Befuddled,
Mrs. Squirrel
Dear Garnier Nutrisse,
Stop using the thinnest and flimsiest plastic to make your XXL Volume Thickening Mousse dispenser. I realize I’m not shelling out big bucks for your product, but I do not think Sarah Jessica Parker would appreciate being linked with such inferior products. And I know she’d hate to learn my hair hasn’t received its daily dose of fruit micro-waxes. Might I suggest tailoring your own product marketing copy to enhance your product packaging: A new generation styling mousse dispensor, infused with thickening plastic agents that provides hair dispensor thingy with maximum volume strength and all more than 1 day hold.
Barely surviving the depletion of fruit micro-waxes,
Mrs. Squirrel
Dear Dove cellulite cream,
F*cking #*&$( bottle @@&#*(!)$& doesn’t #@#*&^ open *&#&*$^*&@.
Wishing you and yours dimply thighs,
Stacy
Dear Publications International, ltd,
Your books suck. We own two. Neither has ever worked. The Elmo book you smartly packaged with a small plush Elmo included one burst battery, rendering the book unusable and quite dangerous. What’s more fun that potential battery acid burns? Trying to pry the Elmo doll from my son’s fists so I can return this pile of crap to Target. Replacement batteries are $3 EACH, and each book takes three ridiculous, explosive batteries! You can be sure as shit I’m not shelling out $18 to get each book to play their no-doubt annoying sounds.
Bitterly yours,
Stacy H. Squirrel
Dear Polar Springs Packing Department,
What gives? I found three cans of lemon-flavored seltzer in my 12 pack of cranberry-lime flavored seltzer box! Are you trying some sort of new surprise mix pack? Let me know ahead of time– not everyone is a fan of surprises!
Mrs. Squirrel,
Not a fan of surprises nor lemon-flavored seltzer water
Fan of lime and cranberry-limed flavored seltzer water
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
1:39 pm |
-image-A Special Message from Jojo
to one of his favorite friends on the blogging block, Sweet Babboo, who today turns ONE! Yay Sweet Babboo and super congratulations to his lovely parents, Isabel & The King:
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
8:27 am |
-image-I Brake for Turkeys
Jojo and I were late to our playgroup this morning because I was stuck trying not to hit two wild turkeys.
They were running willy-nilly all over the busiest street — cloggin’ up traffic and causing mayhem. A mailman attempted to shoo them across the street into some nearby woods but quickly got on with his own route (when he realized, I think, that he, too, was about to be smooshed by morning motorists) and let the novices in their cars attempt to get past the darting uglies without creating poultry speed bumps.
The five minutes I spent trying to navigate my Corolla around 2 of these (no seriously they are) ugly creatures leads me to appoint myself an Expert in the field of Driving Around Turkeys. And what better to do than share with you some lessons learned. From an expert! Geez are you lucky you dropped by the site today:
Lesson #1: : Turkeys prefer red Corollas over blue-uniformed postal employees.
Lesson #2: : Turkeys cannot understand English. It is not their first, nor their second language. No matter how clearly you enunciate “move it along, turkey legs,” they will not heed your warnings, take your advice or even acknowledge your kind and helpful suggestions.
Lesson #3: : Turkeys like to peck at tires and hide in your blind spots. Do not rely on your mirrors to spot the swarming turkeys. May I suggest, instead, you crane your neck and contort your body to make sure the turkeys are free and clear of your wheel wells before softly engaging your gas pedal.
Lesson #4: : Do not, I repeat, do not get out of your vehicle in an attempt to herd the turkeys along. They be bitter. Luckily, I did not get out of the Corolla mainly because it was raining, I didn’t want to get hit and, I didn’t want to leave Jojo alone in the car when I could have been dragged off and pecked to death by the bitter turkeys.
Lesson #5: Just as enthusiastically, may I suggest you not honk your horn at the turkeys, especially if they are currently stationed right in front of your car. Being on the receiving end of the irate GOBBLE GOBBLE with “oh NO YOU DID-INT” head shaking left me shaking.
Lesson #6: : In warmer climates, may I suggest rolling up your windows, as the turkeys apparently want nothing more than to pull up to your window and peck your eyeballs out like some sort of perverse trot-thru eyeball buffet. Thank goodness my window was up.
Humbly and expertly yours in all matters of the turkey,
Hollow Squirrel
AND on a totally unrelated note: Jojo waves at the people standing outside the Today Show on tv. Every morning, it kills me.
Posted by Mrs. Squirrel @
3:00 pm |
