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The instructions for a pager warned...

Do not eat battery door.

Ben
Am I the only one who wishes companies would encourage ludicrous behavior?

"Battery door tastes great dipped in nacho cheese"

"Tide pods taste best when enjoyed with a gin and tonic"

"Toaster most effective when used in a full bathtub"

...and so on.
 
The continuing saga of the raccoon wars:
Armistice?!
You might recall my thread about the little house wrecking B*tard getting caught in my screen door while wrecking it and me hosing him off with a bladder full of hot, stinky aggravation.
So here I am, posting away, listening to my mix of 70's protest songs and R@B when I hear a noise, I look up and Mr. Coon is in my Winnie! And I'm like "Oh no you didn't M'F'R!!" and I threw what was left of last night's beer at him! I miss and he splits. a few minutes later I catch movement and look down the hall and my jaw dropped! There he is, propped up on the laundry tote drinking what was left in that beer bottle!, no. not lapping it up, he's got it in both hands doing a beer bong! and I'm sitting here with my jaw open and he slams the bottle down and stares at me long and hard and I swear it sounded like he burped! then he just turns around and walks out. Now I'm thinking several things like:Maybe I need a phone after all, WTHeck just happened, and can I make it happen again? So I crack a brew and pour about 2 inches in his bottle, then I get a bag of truck stop nachos that were about a week past my three day rule and sit it out and wait, sure enough, the little B*tard squeezes his way back in and heads right for the beer and nachos! And I'm thinking:
a 410 won't do that much damage, so I break out the judge. And I look up. I'm moving around, making all kinds of noise, and he's just standing there looking at me like "wut?" and I get up and walk over, and he just stares at me. And I say:
"You like that crap huh? If you stop wrecking my s*it, I'll hook you up." he stares at me a minute and drinks some more beer and finishes the nachos.
Then he rolls down the steps and waddles into the night. I think I have a drinking buddy again! I just could NOT bring myself to blast him. :(
I'm getting soft in my old age.
 
The continuing saga of the raccoon wars:
Armistice?!
You might recall my thread about the little house wrecking B*tard getting caught in my screen door while wrecking it and me hosing him off with a bladder full of hot, stinky aggravation.
So here I am, posting away, listening to my mix of 70's protest songs and R@B when I hear a noise, I look up and Mr. Coon is in my Winnie! And I'm like "Oh no you didn't M'F'R!!" and I threw what was left of last night's beer at him! I miss and he splits. a few minutes later I catch movement and look down the hall and my jaw dropped! There he is, propped up on the laundry tote drinking what was left in that beer bottle!, no. not lapping it up, he's got it in both hands doing a beer bong! and I'm sitting here with my jaw open and he slams the bottle down and stares at me long and hard and I swear it sounded like he burped! then he just turns around and walks out. Now I'm thinking several things like:Maybe I need a phone after all, WTHeck just happened, and can I make it happen again? So I crack a brew and pour about 2 inches in his bottle, then I get a bag of truck stop nachos that were about a week past my three day rule and sit it out and wait, sure enough, the little B*tard squeezes his way back in and heads right for the beer and nachos! And I'm thinking:
a 410 won't do that much damage, so I break out the judge. And I look up. I'm moving around, making all kinds of noise, and he's just standing there looking at me like "wut?" and I get up and walk over, and he just stares at me. And I say:
"You like that crap huh? If you stop wrecking my s*it, I'll hook you up." he stares at me a minute and drinks some more beer and finishes the nachos.
Then he rolls down the steps and waddles into the night. I think I have a drinking buddy again! I just could NOT bring myself to blast him. :(
I'm getting soft in my old age.
Give him the whole bottle and then dye him brilliant purple or fire engine red when he can't walk anymore.
 
We did that to a rat once! we'd paint them all kinds of crazy colors and turn them loose again. had all the druggies tripping out when a red, white and blue rat would run across the staging area! they would be like:
"I got to lay off this meth, I'm seeing stuff!"
 

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