Thursday, April 16, 2009

Piss ants

Every year at this time we get a wee little infestation of ants. Now I consider myself a lover of all creatures great and small, but I really, really want to kill these motherfuckers. I'd prefer some extermination contraption that would make their deaths slow and painful that would also contain some kind of auditory component the sole purpose of which would be to magnify their screams. Such is my hate for these intruders. I bet they have hideous, smug faces, which I'd love to burn right off them with a magnifying glass and a ray of sunlight. They don't don't sell anything to kill ants that's, say, as deliciously sadistic as the mouse glue-trap. Those glue traps are fucking brutal. We put them out when we had a mouse problem when I was a little girl. So this baby mouse got caught in it and it was all shivering and helpless. I was fucking hysterical, screaming at my dad to take it out of the trap. Alas, once a mouse is caught in the glue, there's no coming out. Here is the entry from my diary about that shit:

May 18, 1986
Dear Diary,
Murderers, that's what we are. A thing that breathes lives feels just like me. gone forever. creatures, beasts, mice. cute little things. dead. I want them to live forever.


I'm not even kidding. What a fucking nerd I was. Oh well, I was only 10. I had plenty of time to learn that murder can be a good thing. After 10 years as a vegetarian, I took that first bite of Alaskan crab and I realized: it can make you feel really, really good. It didn't matter that the only reason I broke my vow of self-righteous vegetarianism was to impress a guy I wanted to fuck. Which was pretty stupid, all things considered. I mean he was going to fuck me whether I ate the crab or not. I was so stupid to think, "Maybe he'll think I'm weird if I don't eat this crab leg and then he'll decide he doesn't want to have sex with me." I mean he was dangling that crab leg in front of my face like it was his own cock. And I fell for it like a moron. Regardless,

crablegs = yum

The Deadliest Catch = Bad-ass, fearless fisherman

Wholesale slaughter = bad feelings so I don't think about where all that filet mignon comes from.

Filet mignon = Love at first bite

Ants = Die, motherfuckers, die

Liv got one of those miniature ant farms in her Easter basket from Grandmom. The directions say to start 4 little tunnels with a stick in the gel (which provides all the nutrients and water they could ever need), collect 5-10 ants, put them in the ant farm and close the lid. I thought, "Cool. I have a ton of ants in my kitchen. I don't even need to go outside for this little mother/daughter project". I reasoned that the ants in my kitchen must be some kind of super-breed. Afterall, we do live on the second floor. They've figured out that the lady who lives on the second floor doesn't sweep her floor nearly as much as the lady on the first floor, therefore: more crumbs = more food. It's worth the extra effort to get to the Jackson kitchen. Babies drop a lot of shit on the floor when they eat.

I spent a good hour Friday night trying to find the best and the brightest of this mensa of ant colonies. I sought out the wily ones, the sneaky ones, the ones that were the hardest to catch. My ant farm was going to be the one that changed the course of antkind. These ants were lucky. Afterall, next chance I get I'm going to Home Depot for some weaponry and it's going to be a bloodbath. A ruthless genocide if you will. So this little box of gel I was trying to coax them into was their safe harbor, their Noah's ark of sorts. And those little fuckers haven't shown a hint of gratitude. They haven't started a super-colony. They haven't built little gel mountains. They haven't done any of the shit the pamphlet said they would do.

Instead, the 9 lucky ants have been huddling, climbing on the underside of the lid, playing dead, and I'm pretty sure, if their hands could be seen with the naked eye, flipping me off.

"Todd - the ants aren't doing anything."

"Well they're not really ants. I mean they're not ants ants. They're kitchen ants."

"Spoiled rotten, lazy ass fucking kitchen ants."


  1. Spoiled rotten lazy ass kitchen ants--love that.

    We have a solid rule in our house forbidding any "projects" that involve insects.

  2. We have those fuckers right now too.

    And they are some smug mother fuckers. I take my index finger and crush as an as I can. and then I spray rest with windex.

    Even though we've sprayed twice.

  3. I have those same damned ants, that only arrive just as the weather gets a little nice. If they came in the kitchen in the fall, like when the heat goes on, I'd understand. But it's nice out! Go outside ants!

  4. I am so scared of ants this year what with Kylas little obsession with stashing food all over the place.

    Oh and I loved "Spoiled rotten lazy ass kitchen ants" as well. Awesome!

  5. I didn't know what a cockroach was until I went to college and my roommate killed one in our dorm room. But there was one my kitchen last night and I nearly had a come apart. (Husband is out of country, of course.) I finally got into a few layers of paper towel and dropped it down the disposal which I ran with scalding hot water for about 10 minutes. They say that roaches are the only thing that will survive a nuclear blast (and probably those ugly croc shoes too) so I hope I killed.him.dead.

  6. Once when I was a teenager we had a cockroach in our house. It was just the one and I don't even really know where it came from. Anyway, I cried my eyes out about it I was just so skeeved. They're actually not dirty bugs (they don't carry disease) but they are just vile little creatures in my book. I'd kill them all if I could.

  7. I loved your journal entry. Pretty deep for a 10 yr old. Mine would have most likely read something like this.

    Dear diary,

    Daddy killed a cute little mouse today.


  8. I've got those ants, too. Ant traps don't work. I called an exterminator and after two visits, the bastards were gone.

    I also have a huge groundhog problem. The summer before my husband got sick he trapped them and relocated them to the woods across the street. The fuckers came back. When I had the ants taken care of last summer, I had the groundhogs taken care of, too--if you know what I mean.

  9. I'm all in favor of extermination. Fuck em. It's my house, and there's no such thing as animal rights.


    (And before all the animal lovers get their panties in a bunch, I'm not in favor of animal abuse either. I just happen to view pest extermination as a necessity to human happiness, which trumps the right of an ant to wander around in my house.)

  10. Babs Peapod - Amen, sister. You're in MY jungle now. Watch your step little fuckers.