Of Mice and Hammers

I killed a mouse in my house last night… with a hammer. It was a little disturbing at first, bits and pieces of it flying all over my kitchen and raining down upon me like shrapnel after an explosion as I lifted the hammer high in the air in order to strike again and again. But I’m not gonna lie, it was also a little invigorating.

Why the hammer you ask? Isn’t that a little overkill for something so small? Well, I just wanted to make sure it was dead. I couldn’t stand the thought of it lying on the top of my garbage can, half alive and suffering. Such uncertainty could keep a person up at night you know.

Now, before you go passing judgment or reporting me or my blog to PETA… I’ll tell you that it wasn’t cute, furry and capable of speaking Russian like Fievel the Disney mouse. It was a Logitech mouse. And I had reached the end of my virtual rope.

I should have been mad at the bank who YET AGAIN changed their security measures and thus made ME change MINE. Why does the bank feel it necessary to change things every 5 minutes anyway?

Or I could have been angry with my computer because it’s getting up there in years and painfully slow. It doesn’t exactly snap to attention quite as quickly as I would prefer.

So I lost it. And I took out my rage on an innocent, little grey mouse who didn’t deserve what it got. I didn’t bash it to smithereens right away. I actually just set it down on my desk a bit too hard… and when I tried to revive it… nothing happened. It just sat there… lifeless… the red light on it’s optic sensor forever darkened.

And THEN, I was no longer angry with the bank or my PC’s sluggish processor… I was angry at myself. Livid to be more exact. Mad because I had let my stupid temper get the better of me and now I was crippled and mouse-less. So I placed the dying mouse on the rug, took out my hammer and finished it off by smashing it into a million, tiny pieces.

Not yet done with my computer work, I snuck next door and borrowed a mouse from my mother. I rushed into my parents’ house, stealthily snagged THEIR mouse and declared: “I’m borrowing this! My mouse is broken! Will return it in the morning!”  I then rushed right back out the door like I was fleeing the scene of a crime.  Also, before they had the chance to ask any questions.

Like I said… it did feel good. Who doesn’t fantasize now and then about violently destroying a piece of the very computer equipment by which we often feel enslaved?

Happy computing, y’all!

10 Reasons Why Its Funner To Be a Kid at the Zoo

For an animal lover and avid people-watcher, a visit to the zoo never gets old, no matter your age. However at times I find it far more entertaining to watch the children at the zoo, rather than the animals…

For example: I once witnessed a little girl throw an AMAZING tantrum (screaming, wailing, arms flailing… the whole bit) all the way from the Northern Trek down to the African Savanna… and no one even blinked. I have to say, I envied her a little. I mean, let’s be honest people… sometimes it WOULD be nice for it to be OK if you had a total and complete MELT-DOWN like that in front of everyone. No questions asked.

But this little red-faced, siren-sounding, tantrum-throwing child-coming-down-from-an-extreme-sugar-high not only entertained me, she inspired me. My envy of her led me to think of some other reasons why it is WAY better to be a kid at the zoo than it is to be an adult. So here goes…

1. You get to be chauffeured around everywhere in a plush, shaded stroller or fun little red wagon.

2. You can dress up like the animals and people think it’s cute. No one thinks it is “weird” or “just-trying-to-get-attention” or “wacky” or “deranged.”

3. Everyone moves out of YOUR way so that you can have the best view of the monkeys throwing poo at one another.

4. You will not be made fun of or teased for spilling ketchup and mustard down the front of your shirt and walking around all day sportin’ a stain on your chest.

5. When you talk to the animals no one thinks it is “strange” or “just-trying-to-get-attention” or “questionable” or “sad.”

6. It’s totally acceptable and not “dirty” to ask questions like: “What is that kangaroo doing to that OTHER kangaroo?”

7. No one yells: “Hey!” or “Get down from there!” or “You’re too heavy!” or “You’ll break it!” if you climb up and sit on the railing to get a better look at the tortoises.

8. If you make random animal noises while standing in line for the bathroom or concessions no one thinks it is “odd” or “just-trying-to-get-attention” or “curious” or “psycho.”

9. You can be covered in cotton-candy, having the bestest, stickiest, finger-lickingest time of your life and no one looks at you funny. You do NOT have to carry your cotton-candy home in a concealed plastic bag and secretly devour it at 10 p.m. on the couch in your living room, sitting next to your cat while watching re-runs of Seinfeld… with the blinds drawn.

10. And finally… as previously mentioned… You can throw an elephant-sized fit whenever, wherever and whyever you want to and no one thinks it is “scary” or “just-trying-to-get-attention” or “immature” or “narcissistic.”