Menno Paws & Me

Hello all!  Sorry for the irregular postings, but my internet connection has been whacked at times this week and hasn't let me load up the blog.  Not that there's been much to miss - it has, however, been a week of many firsts and the forging of new relationships.  One of the most unique things to occur is that the Hillbilly Wino has not only grown fond of the taste of ice cold (thanks to the frig) non-alcoholic Becks, but also went in search of it! I can't believe it myself, but by Golly, I am now the proud owner of an entire case of the stuff.  All I need now are lawn Jarts, a lawn, and some willing participants and I'm ready for an Afghanistan-style weekender!  I am also happy to report that the wine key finally came in handy as these babies aren't twist-offs - after I hobbled with a case of these back to my tent (complete with one good foot and a special boot on the other) I was a bit dismayed to find that I couldn't get the bottles open, but then remembered the damn wine key - it did come in handy after all.  This is all good news because the Wino was feeling a bit bitchy after this project - it's also around 100 degrees here every day right now and the energy output to transport  anything in my condition leaves me in a puddle of oozing sweat - so much better to enjoy a fake, cold beer I say!

The other odd event of the week has been the appearance of an uninvited guest, and the kind who won't leave - a little mouse who I now call Menno Paws because he keeps me up at night AND makes my blood boil when I hear him going though my things and making himself at home.  I discovered his arrival the other morning - I thought I had heard him the day before while I was laying on the floor during a rocket attack, but thought there was no way I could be laying on the floor, with a mouse, elevating a gnarled ankle during a rocket attack at 4:30am - could my life have really come to that?  Well it has - and Menno Paws had the balls to show himself the next morning.  Until I can find some mouse traps, it's been hand to paw combat here - Menno sleeps all night and then wakes up and crawls around my shelf where I keep my food and supplies - basically he's all over my room, but seems to be living behind my mini-frig.  He's not worried about me at all and does not respond to cursing, flashlights or Raid.  He even squeaked this morning! I'm going to break his opposable, little thumbs.  I need a cat - and not the fat, lazy, well-fed ones like I own and love, but a cold blooded, hungry, feline Cat Eastwood.  I will start looking - I see them around and just need to lure one to my tent area.  This guy looks like a strong candidate - stupid ducks!

Yes, I am humbled by the presence of a rodent, but I do live in a tent and there's no keeping them out - mouse traps would be perfect care package items by the way, as I can't seem to find any now.  It must be mouse season!  The main issues for me with Menno Paws are: 1.  I don't want him chewing up my wires and baggies full of goodies,  2. I don't want him crawling on me or making any type of bed in my bed and, 3. I am absolutely terrified of what eat the mice here - small vipers complete with fangs.  There have already been some spotted in our camp and I will seriously give birth to a litter of kittens if I ever saw one of those nasty things in my room.  I think the mice showed up to eat the moths (moths are pretty much gone now) and the vipers to eat the mice ... you see the Darwinian food chain here, right?  The thing that cracks me up is that I have no problem calmly discussing my favorite Seinfeld or Sopranos episodes while on the ground or in a bunker during a rocket attack - I also don't seem to flinch much at gunfire and explosions when I'm on those FOBs, but to have a mouse and the possibility of a snake - with TEETH - in my room or near my person just totally freaks me out.  I will keep you posted on the pending demise of Menno Paws - I just hope he's not part of a gypsy clan ...

The other odd thing to occur to me this week - it could have had a lot to do with the pain medication - is that I realized that the rocket attack voice and related information is relayed in a British, female voice!  It just strikes me as the weirdest thing ever.  I live right next to one of the sirens/speaker systems so when these things go off and I'm in my tent, your heart jumps through your chest and you practically pee your own pants from being startled.  Then the Bond-girlish, British voice starts with the ...  "Rocket. Attack. Rocket. Attack."  You then hit the ground, wait to hear the explosion/s, are supposed to get to a bunker and wait for the "Ahll. Clearah".  I then like to imagine hearing a matronly, British female voice (like the lady from the Cheers commercials) come over the speaker saying something like "Chin up then, lads - get to the WC and wash up then, right?"  Kind of reminds me of those British, futuristic, science fiction movies of the 60s and 70s - Logan's Run, Fahrenheit 451 ... they all had female, British voices coming over a speaker to make some kind of announcement or issue a warning.  Where's Michael York when you need to feel secure?  I know its serious stuff, but it still cracks me up - I'm waiting for the Indian version to roll out ...

So - that's been my week  - I turned 44, mangled my ankle, fell in love with fake beer, listened too intently to the rocket attack announcements and acquired a frenemy in Menno Paws.  It's also been a big week for a few others who read this blog - in addition to the happy birthdays, I would like to extend a hearty congratulations to both my brother-in-law and the Jewbilee on their big ass promotions!  Also, Washella finally made it back to London - guess the Icelandic volcano finally consumed enough virgins for the ash clouds to clear!

Drink of the day - no shocker here - fake Becks, with a side-eye out for Menno Paws!