Even now, that cricket has gone back and is telling all of the other crickets, in hushed whispers, "Seriously, that woman's crazy. Give her a wide berth."
Nobody can tell Marmaduke what to do. That's my kind of dog.
Trick ,'First Date'
Natter 68: Bork Bork Bork
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
Dana - May 06, 2011 5:53:08 pm PDT #7298 of 30001
I haven't trusted science since I saw the film "Flubber."
Calli - May 06, 2011 5:53:55 pm PDT #7299 of 30001
I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul—Calvin and Hobbs
I'm sorry, amyth. I could bring the Mighty Slayer of Camel Crickets over, if you'd like.
Strix - May 06, 2011 5:56:28 pm PDT #7300 of 30001
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
Camel crickets are like jumping roaches. They are crickets that don't chirp and jump and live all up in the woods surrounding our apartments and once the weather gets warm they come in and GAAAAAH! They are creeeepy.
Jesus, I thought palmetto bugs were the Devil Incarnate. Anything that can be described as a roach with wings and/or jumping roach gives me the wiggins.
It was really scary, and I had to break my lease and move out of the apartment -- a month after I moved out, the girl upstairs was raped during the day.
But in a perverse way, I am glad it happened. I think I've said it before, here -- things ended up relatively well, given the situation, and I am really glad to have the knowledge that I know how I will react to a threat; that I WILL act, that I can think (somewhat muzzily) under pressure, that I can improvise. It's a sense of great relief to me.
§ ita § - May 06, 2011 5:57:34 pm PDT #7301 of 30001
Well not canonically, no, but this is transformative fiction.
Gah.
And I'm engaged with another asshole who believes that women can't ever win fights. My god, do I have a Kelly and a Noemi to introduce you to. And his assumption when I said I knew women in the martial arts was that I meant something with point-scoring. Not a real martial art with few rules.
Eat krav, motherfucker.
sarameg - May 06, 2011 5:57:49 pm PDT #7302 of 30001
My cats take care of the facejumpers.
amyth - May 06, 2011 5:58:29 pm PDT #7303 of 30001
And none of us deserving the cruelty or the grace -- Leonard Cohen
I've killed so many of these things, it's like they never gossip. What's up with that?
Thanks, Calli. I think it might take Leifur a while to find this one. Best to go with the mummy strategy for now. I think it's behind my cedar chest, waiting for me to go to sleep, for prime face-jumping opportunity. But I will have no face! HAHA!
sarameg - May 06, 2011 5:58:48 pm PDT #7304 of 30001
Please, please ask them to fight him.
Steph L. - May 06, 2011 6:04:29 pm PDT #7305 of 30001
this mess was yours / now your mess is mine
My cats take care of the facejumpers.
We often find crickets (the regular kind) in the basement who are missing one leg. It's like the cats just can't put in the full effort to finish it off.
Calli - May 06, 2011 6:08:26 pm PDT #7306 of 30001
I must obey the inscrutable exhortations of my soul—Calvin and Hobbs
Liefur usually kills the camel crickets or takes off their main jumping legs. Either way, they're a lot less likely to jump in my face and easier to dispose of. So while I occasionally have camel crickets in the apartment, I don't have them for very long.
Matt the Bruins fan - May 06, 2011 6:08:46 pm PDT #7307 of 30001
"I remember when they eventually introduced that drug kingpin who murdered people and smuggled drugs inside snakes and I was like 'Finally. A normal person.'” —RahvinDragand
amyth, the other one was probably so intimidated by what you did to its comrade that it fled the house.
This tactic worked for me with the thrillseeker mouse that got out of my humane trap and then scampered over me in my bed. When it was all harmless peanut butter-filled plastic and a free trip to the country more kept coming, but a day of Houdini Mouse's broken-necked corpse sprawled on my kitchen floor seemed to get the message across.