rue-madame's Diaryland
Diary
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Operation rue-madame freedom
A funny observation, courtesy of Terence: �I guess if you have an army of one, you can have a coalition of two.� On a military tip but not an Iraqi one: our kitchen has been taken over by a rogue band of ants. These are no ordinary ants; these are super ants.If you crush them with your hand, they thrash around on 2 legs and crushed antennas for an eternity trying to find their way back to their trail. They don�t drown when you douse them with water (one of my time-honored torture techniques) and they are really, really, fast. I�ve never seen anything like it. You move the garbage one inch and within seconds, the entire convoy is beating a hasty retreat. It�s nutty. Growing up in San Francisco, you get used to ants. The city is built on sand so the whole town (especially the Sunset) is one giant ant hill. You know how they say that there�s no true peace time--only the time between wars? Well that�s how it was at my house with the ants when I was a kid. When there were ants, we were on the defensive, cleaning counters, sweeping up after even the tiniest snack, sealing off the pantry or double bagging everything (we even put all honeys/syrups/jams into bowls of water, taunting the ants to build bridges over our moats;) when there weren�t any ants in the house, we were in a state of crazed ant readiness. I can�t even tell you how many times my sisters and I would come home from school to discover the entire kitchen floor swarming with ants, or how many times our Halloween, Christmas and Easter candy was ravaged by those goddamned pests. God, I fucking hate ants. I don�t care how brilliant and efficient their societies are. E. O. Wilson can kiss my ass with his ant worshipping nonsense. I�m none too pleased with the current ant situation. Especially because I have not been able to eradicate them with the poison I usually use (a poison that can annihilate at least ten generations of San Francisco ants, but which has zero effect on the robo-ants of Los Angeles.) I�m going to have to go back to the hardware store and buy different, more potent poison. And if that doesn�t work, I�ll have to throw in the towel, and call the landlady. She�s been around a lot lately, the landlady. There�s an apartment opening up in my building and she�s been showing it to prospective tenants. I hope she rents it to someone nice. Not that the loud New Yorker who�s moving out of there wasn�t nice; she was, but she had a nasty habit of calling her East Coast friends on weekend mornings at 7 am. The other loud neighbor shares a wall with us, and she likes watching tv with the volume on 11 at 2 am when I�m trying to sleep. She also likes to have rock musicians hang out on her balcony in the wee hours, cough up their pot, say stupid shit and sing really bad songs while she squeals with delight at their �talent.� Needless to say, I hate her. Her other annoying habit is listening to the Rolling Stones really, really loud. And not good Stones albums like Sticky Fingers; no, she likes the crappy 80�s stuff, you know when Mick was into spandex pants and ruffled shirts. I just can�t abide bad taste like that. Overall, she�s just really inconsiderate so whenever she�s home and relaxing on her couch, Terence and I have REALLY LOUD sex.
2:43 p.m. - 2003-03-31
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