Random Nonsense
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I recently started looking at the blog through the filter of Google Analytics. I've learned that nobody finds our blog using search engines. The only two searches that lead people to our blog were a search on my name (the person stayed less than one second) and a search for the phrase "gory blister." Well then. Having searched this phrase myself, I now know that Gory Blister is a "technical death metal band from Milan." Note to self: Do not confuse technical death metal bands with the non-technical variety.
Robb was out cycling today and heard a Northern Mockingbird going through its repertoire of songs. In the middle of this medley was a perfect imitation of a car alarm, ending with the boop-boop-boop sound of someone remotely turning off their alarm.
The snails and I are in a pitched battle for control of my garden. On Monday I threw one hundred and twenty of the slimy little bastards over the fence. I have tossed at least fifty snails every subsequent day. I really do wonder if I'm tossing the same snails, over and over again. I've briefly considered writing the date on the snails' shells, but touching snails is really disgusting, and the less I have to handle them the better. I will to admit to being a bit crazy, when it comes to snail hunting. I always count the snails as I catch them, and I try -- for no particular reason -- to find snails in multiples of five. If I've tossed eighteen snails, I have to keep looking until I find two more.
Robb rode his trike past a school group the other day, and elicited the following responses:
(Approvingly) "That's messed up.
(Approvingly) "Sick."
(Approvingly) "Tight."
(And from the teacher) "Wasn't that cool?"
I recently started looking at the blog through the filter of Google Analytics. I've learned that nobody finds our blog using search engines. The only two searches that lead people to our blog were a search on my name (the person stayed less than one second) and a search for the phrase "gory blister." Well then. Having searched this phrase myself, I now know that Gory Blister is a "technical death metal band from Milan." Note to self: Do not confuse technical death metal bands with the non-technical variety.
Robb was out cycling today and heard a Northern Mockingbird going through its repertoire of songs. In the middle of this medley was a perfect imitation of a car alarm, ending with the boop-boop-boop sound of someone remotely turning off their alarm.
The snails and I are in a pitched battle for control of my garden. On Monday I threw one hundred and twenty of the slimy little bastards over the fence. I have tossed at least fifty snails every subsequent day. I really do wonder if I'm tossing the same snails, over and over again. I've briefly considered writing the date on the snails' shells, but touching snails is really disgusting, and the less I have to handle them the better. I will to admit to being a bit crazy, when it comes to snail hunting. I always count the snails as I catch them, and I try -- for no particular reason -- to find snails in multiples of five. If I've tossed eighteen snails, I have to keep looking until I find two more.
Robb rode his trike past a school group the other day, and elicited the following responses:
(Approvingly) "That's messed up.
(Approvingly) "Sick."
(Approvingly) "Tight."
(And from the teacher) "Wasn't that cool?"
Comments
Romana
As for snails, did you know if you put one in a jar, they always climb to the top of it? Bizarre, but true. Turn the jar upside down again, and they'll move to the top again. Round-and-round. It's amazing they haven't gone extinct, I tell you. Amazing!
-- Ryan
Wild Rose
OK, lady, now that you told me and everyone else you threw 125 snails over the fence, you are officially a weirdo. Sing a song while you do it and I bet you can get a performance arts grant. And that, too, would also be messed up, sick, and tight!
Annalisa
Find it again? give it a third swipe *
By then you might get tired of keeping track, but it would give you an idea of who is making it over/under the fence.
My garden is o'errun by snails!
On every plant they chew and climb
And leave their trails of shiney slime
As punishment for this offense
I quickly pitch them o'er my fence.
Onto cement I hear them crunch
And never more my plants they'll munch
Grumpy
-Vanessa
I live in the soggy Pacific Northwest. I grew up putting salt on slugs (my mom loved her petunias and hated the slugs eating them.) I've stepped on them, slid on them, leaned on them on a tree replacing a letterbox, etc. Snails are slugs with shells, so I'm not going to eat them, but if you are so inclined, go for it!
One time a guy heard a knock on his door. He opened it and a snail was sitting on his porch. "What the heck?" he thought, picked up the snail and threw it across the street into a field. Three years later, there was a knock on the door. He opened it up and saw the snail, who said, "What was that all about?!"
KuKu