Mouse In My House

There is a mouse in my house. I thought I saw one run across my kitchen floor out of the corner of my eye a few days ago, but I dismissed it. I've never had a mouse in my house before so I didn't think it could happen to me.

But he's definitely here.

I'm not afraid of mice. I actually think they're really cute. But the discovery of this mouse did make me scream like a little girl.

As I was lifting the garbage bag out of the garbage can, the mouse sprung out from a hole he had chewed in the bag. He landed on my boot (as I was in uniform). I screamed. Picasso came running. The mouse took off. In a black blur of mouse, he scampered under my washer and has not been seen since. And Picasso did nothing. Apparently mouse hunting is not a skill set he possesses.

I found evidence under the kitchen sink that the mouse has been sharing our house for a while. He left poo all over under there. Yuck! I wish I could have no regard for where I poo.

I wonder how the mouse got into my garbage can in the first place. The can is a metal cylinder. With a lid. I wonder if I accidentally threw away the mouse in the past couple days? Did I pick him up? Has there been a mouse hanging out in my garbage and Picasso didn't even notice him moving around in there?

As cute as he may be (if I ever got to see more of him than just a blur), he can't stay. I told James to get traps. I suggested humane traps. He said, "The kind that snap?" So...  I guess we're going to end up killing the little guy. I figured since he had the ability to Houdini into the garbage can, we could spare his life. Poor little mouse in my house.

Nails 88

Long story short, James needed me to urgently meet him half way between our house and Fort Campbell. So as I'm tearing down the road, he calls me to confirm the rendezvous point.

James: "Where are you?"

Me: "By the nail salon in that stupid strip mall in the middle of no where."

James: "The one that looks like a penis?"

So let me explain that. This is what the sign looks like outside the nail salon:

Since we were in a hurry, I just agreed that, yes, I was near the nail salon that looked like a penis. I could see why he suggested that. But I never previously thought the sign resembled a penis. Every time I passed it, I thought about the KKK.

Perhaps that needs some explanation as well. We've been watching a lot of shows about prison lately. And a lot of prisoners join gangs for protection while they're locked up. A popular choice is the Skin Heads. These prisoners get all kinds of tattoos all over their bodies declaring their loyalty to hating everyone who isn't  a white redneck. One such tattoo is a "88" which stands for Hail Hitler (the letter "H" being the 8th letter of the alphabet). So I pass this nail salon every day and all I can think about is Hitler getting his nails done there.

Which brings me back to a previous blog about that van that I see all over Clarksville. The one that I swear says "Hitler" all over it with the smiley faces. What is really going on here? What kind of town do I really live in? Shits getting raw, that's for sure.

You Know You're Getting Old When...

James and I had a date night last night. Woo-hoo out on the town in Clarksville, Tennessee! We went to the movies and saw Insidious (which I do not recommend at all, save your money). We should have known better than to go see a movie on its opening night, on military payday and on a Friday. The theater was packed. There were teenagers everywhere. The stars were aligned for an awful experience.

Through out the whole movie, we sat beside the world's most annoying man. He screamed and talked the entire time. James actually thanked him for ruining the movie for him as the credits were rolling. I think the movie would have ruined itself but it's always nice to point fingers. This guy irritated James enough that he actually went to find a manager to complain that this guy wasn't removed from the theater by the morbidly obese police officer with the giant dip in his lip that was standing at the front of the theater the whole time.

While James was complaining, I exited stage right to the ladies room. Upon entering the loosely coined "ladies" room, I had flashbacks to the club. There were half dressed teenaged girls all inspecting their cleavage and butts in the mirrors and taking camera phone pictures of their faces all squished together in the most provocative poses they could muster. I tried not to stare. I tried not to make disgusted faces. I made my ladies room experience short.

I can't really justify it, but I was incredibly annoyed with those teenage girls. And for no reason other than I'm getting old. It's true. My boyfriend was complaining about noise and teenaged girls irritated me just by simply existing. Sigh. When did we become so old?

Me & James

Surgar & Coolaid

This has been going around on Facebook. It's a white trash shopping list found discarded on the floor of a Wal-Mart. Probably in Tennessee...

Physical Abuse

I reported to my new unit yesterday. I was told that, although I am associated with the 86th Combat Support Hospital, I have nothing to do with the 86th Combat Support Hospital. Also, I found out that I am actually attached to a unit out of Fort Hood, Texas (not Fort Campbell) and we are chemical and natural disaster responders. My unit is a unit full of nothing but medics, yet, we do not have an aid station. We do not have Docs to work under. We do not do anything medical until we deploy. We'd deploy with zero real life experience. I know that's hard to grasp, but it's the Army we're talking about here; it doesn't have to make sense, you just execute.

I was placed in the Evacuation Platoon once again. I must have pissed someone off once upon a time.

The first thing my platoon sergeant said to me once we met was, "How's your PT score?" That fills fear in my heart. If that is his #1 concern about his new NCO coming to his platoon, he is very physically oriented. I am not what you would call an athlete, by any stretch of the imagination. I get by. I don't have the genes to excel with raw physical power. This dude is going to physically abuse my body every morning and call it training.

And I am scared.

Attack Of The Wives

Today I had to attend a new comers brief along with all the other new Soldiers to Fort Campbell. This was a breif to acclimate you and your spouse to the post and the surrounding areas. So, it was highly encouraged that the married Soldiers bring their spouses along with them to work today.

I absolutely adore it when spouses make apprearances at work.

Not because I like to interact with the wives. Hell no. I like it that the majority of these ladies get dressed up to come to work with their Soldier. And when I say "dressed up", I mean, they show up looking like hookers.

This brief started at 0900 and there were women walking around with more inches of clevage than I have fingers, stilleto heels and tiny skin tight dresses. This isn't the club, ladies. It's a mandatory new comers brief on a military instillation. Daycare was available on site, for God sakes. Don't advertise your goods. Cover that crap up!

But if you insist on dressing so sexy while the sun is high in the sky, then I suggest you do it outrageously so I can keep taking pictures of you behind your back. Haha.

Huh?

I see this van all over Clarksville. I even saw it in my neighborhood cruising around.

It really isn't a special van, but whenever I see it out of the corner of my eye I read it wrong every time, without fail. I always read it, "HITLER" and the smiley faces just seem so inappropriate.

My First Visitor

My bestie, Rosie, came to visit my house in Clarksville all the way from some frozen waste land in Minnesota this past weekend. She was my first visitor. Which means the guest room has lovingly been renamed "Rosie's Room".

I loved having Rosie here. It's so fun to have a friend over that you seldom get to see. We've been friends since the 5th grade. That's very cool we've held on to our friendship so well so long. Not seeing each other much may have helped... haha.

Rosie being here was a big excuse to go shopping. I don't really have very many girlfriends that I can go shopping with-- especially now that I live in a city in which I only know James. I don't imagine James is much of a shopper. I can see him now: rolling his eyes, pacing and cracking his neck. I need someone with patience, and an honest opinion and I know Rosie can provide both.

We bought lots of fun things for my house, to include new carpet for the living room and a medicine cabinet for the master bedroom. Party animals! We're getting old... sitting on my new lawn chairs on the back deck drinking beer with the dog took the place of getting smashed at a bar. And I'm just fine with that.

I Have A House

There ya have it, folks. I am a homeowner. I never thought I'd own a home in Tennessee, of all places, but I'm SO happy I bought it! It's a ranch style 3 bedroom, 2 full bathroom. It has a huge back yard (full of weeds) that I can't wait to fence in and host BBQs in. It'll be a great place to let Picasso run and play. 



The kitchen.

The master bedroom.

The spare bedroom.

Love my house! I can't wait to fix it up just the way I want it. Something tells me Lowe's and Home Depot are going to become 2 of my new favorite places to spend money!

Blogging From The iPhone

I'm blogging from my iPhone right now while I wait in line at Bank Of America to open an account. Once again, I find myself in an area of the country where WellsFargo is non existent so I have to change banks.

That's not the point of this post.

I made it to Clarksville, Tennessee in one piece! It was a very long trip, but James, Picasso and myself made it here safe and sound. We're almost all moved into the house. The house is GREAT, by the way. I really enjoy being a hone owner. I like knowing that everything in there is mine. I like painting it the way I want. I like stomping on the floor and not pissing off neighbors. I'm very happy. :)

I have no idea how to load pictures from my phone. We're finally getting the Internet put in the house tomorrow, so I'll put pics up tomorrow.

My opinion is, blogging from the iPhone is no bueno.

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Also, today is my brother's 26th birthday. Happy birthday, Danny! I miss you!