If we used the term “Roger” at all during basic training, we would be punished with the front lean and rest position for 45 minutes. I never used it, but I was always the one caught with my chin strap undone, and they always called me John Wayne.
I’m writing this before work because today I am flea bombing my apartment. Great, right? Me and little man are officially dirty flea bags. I got a kitten about a month ago and took all necessary steps to prevent such an infestation, but the little fuckers survived the baths, and flea drops and collars. My son hated the cat anyway. He bull rushed her all the time, and was always beating her in the head with his matchbox cars. (Which I understand that it was terribly cruel, but the cat just sat there and LET him do it.) So I got rid of her. And now I am left with fleas and it sucks because I have to wear boots to work so that nobody sees my flea bitten ankles. Everyone’s all “Why the fuck you got boots on? It’s like… 98 degrees out.” And I’m always “Really? I’m just SO cold. Burrrr…”
So I bought these cans that will fog up my entire apartment and kill the bastards. I’m going set them off right before I leave for work. The shitty part is, is that I have to turn off my air conditioner before I leave. I live in Louisiana. So when I come home, my apartment will be a hot, slippery mess which smells like rotten meat. YAY.
Just wait until I tell you about the Bicycle Guy.
Turns out… flea fog bombs set off smoke alarms, and it just so happens that you have to have maintenance come in and unhook them, AND IT JUST SO HAPPENS that I moved in the cat without their consent. WHAT THE FUCK.