Thursday, August 31, 2006

I Love the Smell of Napalm in the Morning

Or, more correctly, the cloying bouquet of the "naturally clove-scented" wasp killing spray that now lingers in the air every time I step out my back door. We've all got our battles to fight, I suppose - Desiree's got a war on cheese sticks, Dubya's got his "war on terror" and the brave Heather and Jessica keep up their war on bad taste, thank goodness. Every summer we go through the same song and dance - I see a few big wasps hovering around our outer eaves, go into rabid freak-out mode, and we knock down a few small nests.

This year, it got personal - the little beasties decided to move in and invite all their friends. In the last three days, we've* had to spray the hell out of no fewer than ten nests. The smallest one was as big as the palm of my hand (read: home to probably thirty-plus wasps), none of which bodes well for our future. I'm comtemplating putting a big sign up somewhere outside warning anyone allergic to stings to "Run Away Now! Wasps are Attempting to Commandeer This House!", but haven't been able to locate one yet.

*The expression "we've" here means: Scott, because I am far too afraid of both getting stung and accidentally spraying myself in the face with bug spray, thereby causing my eyeballs and face to do this: Which would be a bad look for me, don't you agree?

Fortunately, we came up with a really effective solution to this plaugue; I call it the "Tag Team Tennis Racket" method (Trademark pending). First, we attire ourselves correctly (put on shoes) and creep slowly out the kitchen door, armed with bug spray. Next, we hover in the entryway, behind the door, nervously timing when I'll throw the door open and push him out the steps. Third, he reminds me to be "ready to open that door," as though I'm going to leave him outside at the mercy of a horde of angry, dying insects and watch him be stung, all the while rubbing my hands in evil delight. Fourth, I fling the door open, he leaps out the door like he's going for a tackle, shoots a stream of poison at them and is back behind the outer door looking through the window before I know what happened. Fifth, we cower and watch the bodies of our enemy drop from their nests and die, die, die! for their rash and imprudent choice of home location.

As a final preventative measure, he prowls our grounds with a tennis racket, swatting down the survivors with all the rage of Venus Williams with PMS. 'Tis a wonder to behold, let me tell you. Originally, we thought we'd vanquished them with a few squirts at the first two nests we found - but they kept buzzzing around our doorway, taunting us, making me scared to go and get the laundry. I found three new nests yesterday and he found about five more round the back of the house today. I came outside and found him lightly coated in sweat and atomized agent Orange for bugs, swinging his tennis racket and leaping around our driveway like a sprite. I'm fairly confident that for now, we're winning the war...but please remember to bring your Epi-Pens to the house if you stop by.
And now a list, wholly and totally unrelated to the above topic, to satisfy the fierce list-making mania that preys on me day by day. Background on this list: While we were in a meeting the other night, I asked him what he wanted for dinner - he responded with the ever-popular, "What do you want to make?" I thought about that for a minute and wrote down the following.

Things I Would Rather Make Than Dinner (Please Note that Number 7 is a Joke)
  1. Fun*
  2. A mess
  3. A rule that no one can call before 9 am, ever.
  4. The cats pick up their own poo.
  5. Noise.
  6. A cake.
  7. A baby, so people will finally stop asking me when, whennn, wheeeennnnn I'm going to have one, already.
*Use your imagination.


Girl con Queso said...

Yay! I like number six. Let us eat cake! And lots of it.

janet said...

that was a fabulously told wasp story. I would be freakingoutfreakingout if I had one wasps nest, let alone MANY MULTIPLES OF THEM.

Meepers said...

GcQ: First off: Congratulations on 'coming out' - such a cute picture! Sadly, I've only made one cake...ever in my life- but I eat my fair share of it FOR WORK (definitely one of the best bits of the job).

Janet: Yes, I'm firmly in the freakingoutfreakingoutfreakingthehellout club. We were gone for a couple of hours this pm and came back to about 10-15 of them just .... sitting....lurking...waiting right outside, next to our door. They are eeeeeviiiile.

Chiada said...

Here's my wasp story (or maybe they were yellow jackets..I dunno):

I was about 12 years old and it was a warm muggy summer up in the Cascades of southern Washington on the Columbia River. My grandparents owned a piece of property and were in the middle of building their home. (Side note: Poor Grandfather died of a heart attack before the house was finished and Grandmother sold the house to Uncle Bill.) I was out exploring the property, which was pretty heavily wooded aside from the clearing where the house was being built. With me was my older cousin and my faithful dog, Muffin. At one point, Muffin decided she'd had enough of exploring and turned around to head back to the site. All of a sudden she gave a yelp and jumped and took off running. I, the concerned pet owner, called after her and took a few steps in her direction. That's when I found myself standing in the middle of a nest of baddies. Some sort of wasp or yellow jacket or whatever those things are that nest on the ground. Instantly they covered every inch of my exposed body, which was alot seeing as how I was wearing a little bathing suit with short shorts and sandals. I went running and screaming, my cousin following me, not knowing what was going on. I clearly remember brushing them off my arms, their shiny bodies so grossly smooth and rubbery-like. As I came into the clearing, my Dad was already on his was bolting to me to find out why I was screaming within an inch of my life. Seeing the stinging evils, he hosed the rest of them off of me with a cold jet of water (thanks, Dad) and then drove me the 10 minute drive back over to the house Grandmother was living in and gave me to Mom who put me into a warm bathtub full of baking soda. Being the mentally healthy person that I am, I have so suffered no lasting ill effects from that incident. Bees and others like them do not send me into panic attacks. And neither do I bear any scars from the attack. So, anybody want to take a walk with me through a thicket?

Chiada said...

By the way, that picture really freaks me out, Meepers.

LindsayJustine said...

dude. bugs. no thanks. unfortunately...for being freinds with Hap for so long, i know about insects and how to kill them (he worked for hydrex and lenz). you're going to have to get one of thoes companies out there to take care of the problem, cause as you are experiencing - they keep building nests. aaaaand it. wont. ever. stop...till you get the pro's to fix it up correctly...good luck!!!

the sightspeed guy said...

kudos for the indiana jones pic.

Meepers said...

Chiada: You're a better man than I, clearly.
Linds: Now I'm Officially Depressed
Pete: I heart Indiana Jones...they are in my Top Ten Favorites, ever. Melting Nazis rock!

LindsayJustine said...

HAHA! oh no! dont be depressed! just watch some south park : )


Andy said...

Hi. Thanks for the comments.

I'd loved to be added to your list!

I'm trying to make the world jealous by constantly shouting out that I saw Eddie Izzard in the 3rd row! I was so close. People should want to touch me!