Well sure, not being able to wink at women put a crimp (cramp) in your style.

I had a pretty scary experience this evening. First time I felt concerned for my physical safety since I moved to SW WA 15 years ago. I had a kitty pet sitting job in a nearby town (about 2500 population, in a 2007 subdivision with narrow streets and houses set ridiculously close together). As I turned into the usually quiet residential neighborhood, I was immediately confronted with crowds of irresponsible beer-swilling parents lining the street and sidewalks while their wild-eyed 5 to 10-year-old spawn ran willy-nilly setting off big fireworks in the middle of the narrow road.

As I navigated through and around pre-set lines of fireworks all over the street, ready to be set afire, the drunk fucks lining the road started shouting "Get the fuck out of here, asshole!" and "You don't live here, bitch!"

Uh. Whut?

Fortunately, the house I was heading for was around the turn and a bit further down the road, so the plastered dog turds at the start of the street didn't see where I ended up. The noise was incredible, deafening, relentless. Smoke filled the air. People were hollering and shouting, kids running loose like banshees. I felt like I was in the middle of the fucking Siege of Beirut, FFS.

Once I got in the house and calmed the cat down, I called the cops. I was literally afraid to leave by the same route, for fear of what these freaks might do as I passed by on the way back home, and I didn't know how else to get out of there safely. The cop escorted me out of the area via a completely different and circuitous route of back roads, just to avoid the lunacy at the entrance of the subdivision.

What the fuck is wrong with the US when a person has to get a police escort out of an all-white, middle-class neighborhood in Sleepyville Butthole, Washington??! :worried:

I completely understand why this family decided to be somewhere else tonight. CHRIST.

Meanwhile, I live out in the (very dry) woods about 7 miles away, and there are idiots firing off firecrackers and mortars all around me. For reasons I'm still unable to understand, Vancouver banned fireworks within city limits this year, but in all the unincorporated areas you can light up the forest with fireworks at will.

Burn, baby, burn. :(

The problem is you not celebrating the 4th in the American way. Driving through the middle of the festivities, probably without a beer in hand.
Why I'll bet you didn't even have your titties out.

Must be a commie, or at least a socialist troublemaker. http://cellar.org/2012/bwekk.gif

:D

What is pissing you off this time?
 

It ain't enough I spent most of yesterday in the ER...

Goddamned, motherfucking, crackhead squrls, man.:headshake

So I get up to greet the day, doo doo doo look out my backdoor, and there's m'squrl. I know it's my squrl, cuz when I knocked on the window this fucker don't even look, he jumps from like five feet up the side of the tree, and heads right for his spot. He's taken up a spot on the arm of the porch swing as his Point of Cookie Reception.

Or, I should say, his Point of Ambush.:mad:

I walk (doo doo doo) out my back door to give this varmint his fucking cookie, and this sumbitch jumps from about three feet away and lands on my wrist and does a tapdance that Sammy Davis, Jr. woulda been proud of. He skinned-the-cat around my wrist before I could body slam him. If you've ever heard a squrl bounce off concrete, you'll never forget the sound. It is unique.

He peeled out on my patio like Junior Johnson w/a load o'moonshine and revenuers hot on his ass. He didn't stop til the base of the maple tree about forty feet away. And then stopped at the base of the tree like his life was not in imminent peril.

After I disentangled myself from the swing:mad:, I saw the cookie lying on the patio and picked it up and chucked it, not in the direction of the Squrl.

He went for it well before it ever landed. I don't know if he got it or not, and I don't care at this point.

At this point, I'm worried about the scratches his creepy little rat feet left on my cookie hand. Now I gotta worry about what was on his creepy little rat feet. Now I gotta worry about distemper, squrl AIDS, chlamydia, and what-the-fuck-ever-else I might get from the little crackhead sumbitch. I'm not worried about rabies. I've read in more than one place that it's virtually impossible for a squrl to transmit rabies.

And, of course, we're out of alcohol. The rubbing kind, not the drinking kind (had to use hydrogen peroxide and slather the Neosporin). Although I could use drink right about now. You ever been attacked by a squrl? I wouldn't recommend it.

The ungrateful little rat bastard just might get his next cookie from the end of a rifle barrel if I feel the slightest toe-twinge from normal.

Mmm, it's been a long time since I last had squrl n gravy.

Maybe with some sauteed onions.:yum:

I would give anything if I could have seen it happen, though.

:lol2:

Sorry to hear that Mr G. :eek:

I've never had the misfortune to tangle with a squirrel but my old Yellow Lab x Border Collie, who was too fleet of foot for his own good, caught one out on a walk and it bit him on the cheek.

Blood flowed and it was not a pretty sight.

You have my sympathy.

You will understand why my friends named their backyard squirrel Cujo.

Curious if you are so worried about his various contagions you would consider ingesting him.

I feed my backyard Squirrels peanuts out of a dish on my patio table. Maybe I'll move the bowl.

Bush tailed rats, every one of them..

No thanks.

I like squirrels

My bro had a tame(ish) squirrel he hand reared and then released back into the semi wild woodland his back garden kind of meanders into

Darwin. He used to come back to visit - then he started bringing his girlfriend to visit.

Havent seen him in a while though - I dunno how long they live.

Because I cook my food.

My buddy has three-legged squrl that is ~9 - 10.

I would imagine a reglar ol four-legged version would do at least as well.

Build yerself one of these:

:D

He's very close to getting one of these:

Attachment 68242

At ~1500 feet per second. Right in the cookie hole.

The scratches he left my hand/wrist are quite angry-looking.

So am I. Still.