DO NOT WANT.

Tonight we flea-dipped the cats and the dog and I cant decide which is worse: being plagued by blood-sucking insects or flea dipping three unwilling animals. I think it's a draw.

All this is because Oliver is harboring a literal flea civilization with flea governments and flea literature and little flea scientists. The other night he decided at four AM that sleeping with mom and dad was a lot better than sleeping on the floor so he crawled in bed between us (yes, my dog is a toddler...that will never grow up.) Anyway, I'm sure theres a nightmarish horror movie out there somewhere about what ensued: I woke up every thirty minutes for the rest of the night COVERED in bugs. Just thinking about it makes me want to fucking take a cheese grater to my skin.

ANYWAY. Here's pictures of the Fuck-You-Fleas-A-Rama 2008...








This is Dinah, mid-wail.









Ethan is obviously guarding the portals to hell.













This is about three seconds after Olivers bath, I'm not sure at this point he remembers what happened.








These are disgusting super fleas STILL alive after sitting in insecticide and hot water for about fifteen minutes. I'm not even sure I would survive that, and yet those fuckers were climbing up my bathtub wall when this was taken.

In addition to the flea dip, I also sprayed enough poison gas to ensure that I have brain cancer and my children have webbed feet. I guess the the only point I'm trying to make here is that there better fucking. not. be. fleas. in my house.
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Speaking of pets, in closing I'd like to give homage to our guppy, Tanya. Tanya came with a husband, Hank, who sadly passed. After Hank died, we sort of forgot to take him out, because honestly, it's like this fish tank is invisible. I can. not. remember to take care of it to save my life. Maybe because I neglected to ever buy plants, or bubbly treasure chests or really anything for it except fish. Anyway, Hank was flashy enough to remind me, but Tanya is pretty much the same color as the water itself...drab gray.

I know, I know, I'm a horrible pet owner. How am I supposed to someday take care of a baby if I can't even remember to clean the guppy tank.

But wait!

I haven't told you Tanya's fate, and that's because that bitch is STILL ALIVE. For a while there C thought I was feeding her and vice versa but it turned out really that no-one has fed that damn fish for months. MONTHS.

You know those little glass balls you buy at Sharper Image with the little perfectly balanced ecosystem inside? I'm telling you, that's what I've got. A much grimmer and less artistic version. And not worth using as a paperweight.

I leave you with this thought for the night:












VERSUS













I think it's close, I really do.