Monthly Archives: October 2013

Larvae is Latin for….

Ok, you better go pee and grab a frosty beverage this is going to be a long one…

So you know, mom & I just moved. For a few months we were chilling at a generous friend’s house that had an extra room. She even allowed Gussy and the blue devil (Elsa) to live there, too. Nice, huh? I told mom’s friend to put a crucifix on her bedroom door just in case, but she never did.

Anyway, so mom found what she thought was kind of an awesome place for us to live. I mean, it wouldn’t make it onto Celebrity Cribs, it’s not dope, but it’s nice. See, I don’t have an actual yard to poop in, I have to saddle up to the cement patio in the morning, but mom takes me out for a walk after she gets home from work. Ok, so I know it’s not all about me. What I was getting at is…it took mom nearly 6 months to find this place. People want a heck of a lot of money for an outhouse with a view. And they want crazy amounts of money for deposits – as if a swell guy like me is going to trash the place. Of course, you never know what the Unholy Furry One will do.

Actually, mom ran into a lot of weirdos and shifty-eyed cons trying to scam her. There was Barbie & Ken Freak-enstein, the Polish Inquisition Dog and Mortuary Momma to name a few of the freaks. When she got tired of the scammers she decided to play with them to waste their time like they were wasting hers. So she wrote letters pretending to go along with their foils. To read those little gems click on the page “Twatwaffle Rental Scammers”, they’re pruddy funny.

Anyway, so we finally find this place and she thinks it’s going to be good. Maybe it was a little expensive, but we needed our own home, it was nice, the landlord seemed like an upstanding kind of guy, the area wasn’t too bad and mom had room for all her crap. I mean stuff.

Well, the first thing to happen was the discovery of the poodle farm. See, Ken, the landlord lives next store in the other half of the duplex…and he has at least 8 stinky, yippy yappy, crazy-making, untrained, smart-as-a-box-of-rocks, ankle-biting poodles. It’s hard to get an accurate count, you know, it’s like counting a swarm of locust…that bark.

Mom didn’t know how many he had until a few of us were chilling in the driveway after moving our stuff in. All of a sudden there was a mad pack of slobbering, barking, fevered poodles rushing the fence! I nearly had a heart attack, you know. I’m a confident kind of guy, but they scared the beejeezuz out of me. Worse than Elsa ever has. They bat-shit-crazy-bark at everything, all the time – other dogs, people, squirrels, air. It’s annoying as hell.

Then came the smell. When mom went to look at the place and later sign the lease it had been shockingly sunny for days here. It was a summer fit for a chi. Hot sun, little rain. I was digging it. But I guess that kept the stink at bay. Once we moved stuff in and had the first rain, The Stink came. It smelled worse than I ever have…even worse than Elsa. It smelled like moldy wet books and graveyard dirt. The more it rained the worse it got. Every time it rained mom could tell just by the stench.

Now, so as not to bore anyone with the super exhausting details I’ll try to keep it short. See, for over 6 weeks mom had been playing Dick Tracy trying to figure out why the house – mostly the bedroom -smells like dirty wet socks and old lady arm pit…trying to convince the landlord there was actually a problem.  And the bedroom of all places! All we wanted to do was unpack, settle in and make the place feel like home, you know.  You know, a chi appreciates nice cozy, sweet-smelling digs to chew a good bone in. But nooooo, we got Mystery Stank Palace and everything-is-groovy landlord instead.

I don’t mind a little pungent aroma now and then, you know, but this was bad and it really bothered mom. She would wake in the middle of the night ’cause she could smell it. It was like waking up in graveyard.  One night it was so bad I thought I was buried alive….but then I heard the toilet flush. Mom had gotten up to pee. I figured I couldn’t have been buried with a flushing toilet.

Anyway, she was worried her clothes were going to smell stinky, too. She was so stressed out, you know. And not only was the bedroom stinky, but the bath towels weren’t drying! You believe that crap? She alternated towels, but 2 days later her bath towel was still wet!  Clothes she hung up to dry weren’t drying, stuff felt damp all the time. Not cool. It was like living in a putrid sauna, except it was cold.

Finally, she talked the landlord into getting a dehumidifier, but you know, of course he didn’t get the good one, the one they agreed on. He did agree to take it back because it worked like a turd. But it was another week until the other arrived. So, more damp shit for another week. She tried to keep the windows cracked, but then it would get too cold. This was not feeling like “home” AT ALL. A chi does NOT like shivering in his own house.

At least the dehumidifier seemed to take the edge off the dampness. But crap, it was collecting 70 PINTS of water in 10 HOURS! Some people mom talked to who know their stuff said that is NOT good – definitely a “moisture issue” they said. Neat. And that’s using electricity running that darn thing all day and night, mom is worried about that, too.

Then one night, being so sick of the nartsy aroma and leaving windows open mom got a little crazy with the sage and nearly smoked us all out. I like a little sage, you know, but it got so smoky she had to open windows anyway and now her clothes smelled like smoke! Not even sage smoke just smoke. So, smoke, musty old towels and graveyard dirt.

Then one morning she dropped her phone off the other side of the bed against the wall and noticed The Stink was stronger there. Then she discovered a vent! The noxious smell was coming from the vent! Finally a source.

She told Kung Fu Ken – we call him that ‘cause he likes to lounge around in torn karate outfits. Anyway, so he said the vent was supposed to be closed off because it doesn’t work, but “oops” it didn’t get sealed. Yeah. Nice. So he seals it. With “sealing foam”. Cuts a piece of dry wall and duct tapes it over the vent. Jimmy rigged!

So, you know mom was excited and relieved cause she thinks it’s solved, the evil malodorous air is done with. Nope. Couple days later The Stink is back. It must have been able to seep through Kung Fu Ken’s noble barrier.

Now mom is ready to lose it. So, Ken comes back over, ads MORE foam. PHHHFFFFFT. Mom got down there, put an entire layer of duct tape over the dry wall, over the edges, THEN got some heavy plastic to put over the whole deal and MORE duct tape. It looks like crap, but it’s keeping the The Stink out we think.

Then couple days later she’s in the shower and sees a HOLE in the ceiling above the shower!! There is a leak from the roof and it softened up the ceiling and part of the ceiling broke away! Well, Kung Fu Ken is not in too much of a hurry to fix it. What the hell, dude?  Says he will on the weekend, never mind it’s raining like a son of a gun outside and the ceiling looks like it could blow any moment.

THEN, 2 days after that mom comes home from work and notices a darn leak under the kitchen sink!! WTF?! Everything is soaked under there and the wood under the liner is all discolored and gooey. Two weeks later there is still a damn bucket under there. It’s not fixed. Now I know there has been a lot going on, but Kung Fu Ken is retired. Yeah retired as in doesn’t have job he has to go to, retired as in HOME ALL DAY. What, is he writing a book on how to horde rabid poodles and drive your neighbors insane? What does he do with his time that he can’t replace a pipe?!

Then, THEN she comes home la few days later and the damn faucet in the bathtub is is leaking! Not just a little drip-drip, but a steady stream. You know, like it was peeing. AND it was the hot water. It wouldn’t turn off all the way. Mom had to talk Kung Fu into shutting the water off so it wouldn’t run up the water bill. He wanted to leave it like that for TWO DAYS till he could get around to going to Home Depot. What the heck, yo? Even I was starting to get stressed out. Sheeesh.

Now all this time we still can smell “dampness” in the bedroom. It’s not the death stink from before, but smells like wet basement or something. So, Kung Fu Ken confesses that, “oops”, his son told him the drywall in the bedroom wall smelled when they were re-doing the wall, but Jimmy-Rigger told him to seal it up anyway WITHOUT replacing the dry wall! WTF dude? How could you think that was ok? You never heard of MOLD before, dude? In SEATTLE? Sheeesh!

So, now Ken & Ken Jr are going to rip open mom’s bedroom wall and replace the drywall. Neat. Now we have to take a chance and hope Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Jimmy Rig won’t spread mold spores all over the damn house AND fix it correctly.

And as if that is not enough…seriously…mom gets up Monday morning for a shower, pulls back the curtain and…there are three ½” larvae in the bathtub. Yeah, I said larvae. That’s Latin for FUCKING MAGGOTS!

Maggots in the BATHTUB? How the hell do MAGGOTS get in the bathtub? Seriously?! What, is this turning into Amityville Horror? Are we gonna see flies covering windows and mom will start waking at 3:33am every morning wanting to chop us up with an axe?

So, anyway, mom thinks they came from the drain in the tub, I mean where the hell else would they come from unless something is flying in and dropping MAGGOTS in the bath. She poured bleach down the drain, but one appeared the next morning. Now there haven’t been any since then.

So, we’ll see what happens this weekend. That’s when the wall gets gutted. Say some prayers and wish us luck that Jimmy & Rig do it all properly.

Peace out,

McSweets

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Dirty Devil In The Bed

So, I’m the kind of guy likes to talk about important stuff. You know like the state of the nation, stupid people, matters of the heart and soul, things like that outside of my little Chi world.  But, sometimes the little things need discussing, too. I need to get out the little ass-itching stuff, you know, so I don’t combust, become an ass hole.

I mean, mom says I’m an ass hole to other dogs when we’re out walking, but I prefer to say I’m being preemptive. You never know when you let down your guard if another fella is gonna take advantage of your neighborly manner. Good guys like me get taken for a ride every day and it’s not in the we’re-ridin’-to-the-beach-and-then-to-PetSmart- for-treats kind of ride. So a little h’ordeuvre attitude is just being smart.

Anyway, back to my reason for venting. See, if I want to sleep on the bed with mom, I have to share it with Gussy and the devil. You all know I call Elsa the devil, ‘cause, well, she is; for more elaboration on my reasoning visit Elsa’s page on this site. Her devil status is explained in detail.

Ok, so sharing the bed with Gussy is not too bad once he gets settled. He has a good heart (Elsa has no heart or soul), but sometimes he doesn’t understand “personal space”. Mom says it’s because he’s a genuinely sweet guy. And a little simple, the guy is simple. I have to wonder why the hell it takes him 3 hours just to walk from the bottom of the bed to the top. I wonder if he thinks he’ll get the bends if he goes too fast.

When Elsa gets on the bed, though, you never know what’s gonna go down. Sometimes she likes to screw with me and rub her beelzebub head against me as if she likes me. I don’t fall for that shit, but mom MAKES me let her! WTF, yo? (Learned me some ghetto lingo.) The unholy ALWAYS has ulterior motives. Always.

Other times her true essence comes out and she bitch-swats Gussy out of the blue. Poor dumb bear is just lying there enjoying his unconsciousness and… BAM! BAM! …Satan thumped by Elsa. Then when he wakes, ripped out of his simple slumber, Elsa hisses her breath-of-the- dead in his face. You know, I don’t know why he just doesn’t bite her in the ass. Well, actually I wouldn’t take that chance, either. His teeth could fall out or his face could melt like that freaky dude with the glasses when the ark is opened in Indian Jones.

So, last night we’re all tucked in bed, sleeping soundly. I got my spot behind mom’s legs and for once she’s not flopping around and fidgeting. She bumps me once in a while, she’s dreaming of spiders or running from vampires and sometimes gets a little twitchy. Anyway, so I’m a cozy Chi, dreaming of running like the wind down the beach chasing seagulls, when I’m rudely pulled back into consciousness by the bed shaking…why is the hell bed shaking?

I look up and see Elsa with her Lucifer leg up in the air, like she’s doing yoga, and her head in her stinky parts, furiously cleaning herself!  What the hell did she have going on down there that she’s moving the bed like that? The bed was shaking like monkeys were jumping rope on it.

I was perturbed, you know, so I got up and went to my bed. But she woke mom, too, and mom has no other bed to go to.  First mom whispered for Elsa to stop – yeah right. She just kept licking and sucking. Eeww – makes me nauseous to think about it. Anyway, so then mom tries shaking Elsa. Nope. She keeps going. Next, mom tried to pet her. Well, that works for the 2 seconds she pet her, then the serpent was right back cleaning its hell hole.

Then I hear mom tell Elsa she smells like shit. Well, duh! The devil doesn’t smell like daisies. By then mom had had enough and actually shoved her off the bed. Woot! Elsa hit the floor on all fours with an angry, wicked screech.  But then, then Elsa comes back 3 minutes later. Back up on the bed…and continues her devil deep cleaning! The nerve, you know? The diablo cares not.

Now, mom was really irritated and with damn good reason. That shit-smelling, bed-shaking furry malevolence had no regard for the other sleeping members of family or the fact that mom has to get up early to earn money to buy her evil ass stinky cat food. Selfish.

Mom shoved her off once more and it worked, but I was worried. You can’t get too bossy with the hell dweller. I was worried she would try to eat mom while she slept. She’d start with her larynx so mom couldn’t cry for help. Personally, I think mom should spray her with holy water and set her on fire. Just in case.