I should definitely change my “About Me” section. There’s something I found out about myself yesterday that I didn’t even know I felt.
If you’ve known me for a while – then you know that there are many undisputed truths about me.
I prefer to live in my head in Care Bear Land rather than live on Earth – in reality land.
I believe if everything was pink, had glitter on it or was bedazzled – the world would be a better place.
Everyone should own at least 5 Sharpie pens or markers. Just because.
I like to take baths in rainbow Skittles. And fart gumdrops.
I think Mountain Dew should come in IV form.
I believe every day can be made better with a new pair of shoes or a new purse.
Organizing and color coding something is the same as a meth high to me.
I believe that everyone should get to ride a unicorn over a rainbow while sucking on a lollipop at least once in their life…even if it’s just in a dream.
I ride Harleys, have lots of tattoos and go to heavy metal concerts and a majority of people in my life have no knowledge of that part of me because on the outside I don’t fit the stereotypical mold of such a person.
Those are just some of the things you’ve come to know about me. Now I’m going to add something else. Are you ready?
Here it is.
I hate muskrats almost as much as I hate Casey Anthony.
Life-altering, isn’t it? I didn’t even know I felt such a thing until yesterday.
Remember when our new car wouldn’t start after only having it a week? Remember how we also found a cute muskrat in our garage that same day?
Remember how I called the guy who sold us the car and proceeded to leave a 5 minute message on his machine using my “bad guy” voice – swearing to him that I would be holding him responsible for any repair bill that occurred?
Yes, well….Mr. Nice Towing Man came (from a different dealership) and got my new car. Called back an hour later and said, “that muskrat chewed through a transmission wire”.
He then had the nerve to laugh and say, “the wire was green – maybe he thought it was grass.”
I threw the f*cking phone across the room.
Are you serious? Did I mention that while we were trying to figure out what was wrong with the car before the tow guy came I actually said the words, “maybe the muskrat did something to our car” AND RAMBO LAUGHED AT ME LIKE I HAD LOST MY EVER LOVING MIND.
Heifers. Every last one of them.
Rambo. The tow guy. THE MUSKRAT.
And yes – just in case you’re worried – let it be known – the little asshole rathead escaped our garage finally….which is good for him or he may have suffered a slow and painful death.
I have no idea how much the bill will be. I cannot wait until the car dealership seller guy calls me back and I have to swallow bile and say, “Oopsie – my bad. Nothing is wrong with the car you sold us. A MUSKRAT is responsible. Forget I called and left you a scathing message. Have a nice day.”
So there you have it. Another “interesting fact” about me that I can add to my ever-growing list.
I hate muskrats.
It sort of goes along well with my hating dirty little inner demon lizards.
I bet the muskrat was Draz’s friend and it’s all part of Draz’s evil plan to turn me against all that is good in this world.
Did I mention Draz is a heifer too?
I ask you – who does this shit happen to? I mean is a muskrat in a garage eating a car wire on a new car the definition of being a hick or what?
I cannot deal.
I simply cannot.