Honestly, you’re probably better off not even reading this.

So on Tuesday morning I came downstairs after behaving on Monday night like it was a Saturday night (are you following this?) and drinking way, way, too much wine during Pot of Crap Dinner That Didn’t Actually Involve Eating any Crap Until We Were All Drunk And Cleaned Out My Snack Cabinet with The Micheles to find this:

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Fabular Rumm was not totally trashed by the little children

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which was a tremendous relief to me because there’s nothing worse than spending an hour on your hands and knees picking Barbie shoes and sticky bits of lollipop out of the rug.  Fuck that.

What disturbed me, Queefies, is this little gift left for me by Big Pussy, who we will refer to from now on  as “Crap Bag”

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What.

An.

Asshole.

And he thought he was being helpful by motivating me to get off my ass and post my first DAILY STYLE photo.  Ya-ta-da-da!!!!  There it was.

(See?  I told you guys you didn’t want the stuff you make anywhere near my deadvomitmouse pictures.)

And so I called Mister because when there’s a dead mouse in the middle of your living room and you have a hangover, you’re going to need some support.

Me: Benny killed a mouse, ate it, and barfed it on the rug.

Mister: Yeah?  You gonna clean it up?

Me: NO WAY!

Mister: You can’t let it sit there all day.  Clean it up.

Me: Can’t you come home and do it?

Mister: You want me to come home from work to clean up a dead mouse?

Me: Oh my god THANK YOU!!!! YES!!! HURRY!!!

Mister:  I don’t think so.  Get some rubber gloves and some paper towels and pick it up.

Me: No.

Mister: I have to go.  Deal with it.

Me: HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME????  YOU DON’T LOVE ME!!!!

But it was too late.  He had already hung up on me.

Clearly, Mister is not very supportive of me during Times of Crisis and if you can, please remind me to write that down on my divorce papers right after “chronic masturbator” and “steals my clothes.”

So I did what anyone in my situation would do.

I left the house and went to Target.

And I shopped up and down and all over and then when I had bought all there was to buy, I had to go home and face the deadvomitmouse.

Dun-dun-duuuuuhhhhhh…

So I went into the dining room and looked at the mouse from a safe distance and tried formulate a plan for how to remove it without having to enter the room or touch it and coming up blank I called every friend I could think might be home and nobody was (thanks a lot. Cunts), and so then I really had to face deadvomitmouse.

ALONE.

Dun-dun-duuuuuhhhhhh(version 2.0)….

So I got Homeslice all situated in her exersaucer

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That’s an exersaucer for you uninitiated people.  I don’t know if I spelled it right.  I don’t care if I spelled it right because I’m really just excited I remembered what it’s called.  I usually just call it “the thing.”

And I put on Mister’s gigantic rubber gloves because I’ll be damned if I use mine on something that gross and I got out the paper towels and my salad tongs and a Wal-Mart bag and I put on my sunglasses ( I don’t know why but I felt I needed eye protection) and I wrapped a scarf around my mouth and nose in case the mouse had really died of The Black Death and not by Crap Bag at all and I went into the living room.

And I put the paper towels on top of the mouse and started to reach for it with the tongs but then I got grossed out and I shrieked and jumped away and called Mister back.

Me: I can’t believe you’re making me do this.

Mister: STOP CALLING ME!

And then he hung up on me A SECOND TIME!!!!

I can’t believe it either!

So after a lot more shrieking and jumping around my living room going “ew!ew!ew!ew!” I finally managed to do the deed with no help from anyone and without even throwing up.

But I’ll tell you what.  I’ll remember this, Mister and Crap Bag.

Next time either of you want a little pussy petting you can fucking forget it.

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35 comments

  1. OMG is that on your COUCH? I would die. Seriously. My cat once dismembered a bird in my tub. It looked like my tub had been tarred (with blood) and feathered. NASTY!

    BTW just found your blog like a week ago and it is hilarious!

  2. LMAO that you went to Target!!

    At least the mouse was intact, my kittens left me an ass and tail once … the rest of it was gone.

  3. What the hell is that thing at the middle right edge of the first photo?! It looks like a dead bloody 4-legged creature with its head chewed up! Were Alena and Girlfriend sacrificing animals while you were all drunk?!

  4. OMG…he hung on you twice?! Shameful, Pimp. At least it was in one piece and not covered in stomach goo. I would have much rather dealt with a dead mouse than the thing I had to pull out of my dog’s butt. He ate one of my daughter’s little plastic doll things and I found him a couple days later yelping while he was outside. It was stuck…I really, really hoped he would be able to *ahem* dislodge it himself…but it wasn’t happening. Saddest part is, I couldn’t even drown my disgust in vodka…I think I read something about not drinking while you’re preggers…stupid doctors.

  5. * I forgot the word up in the first sentence….guess it could mean something totally different depending on how you take it.

  6. Hahahah! This reminds me of the dead rabbit in the back yard. I told Gay Boyfriend about it several weeks back, but he couldn’t bring himself to deal with it and damned if I was going to do it. Not. My. House. This is why I RENT, people! So, while he’s all screeching and shit (because I told him NOW it was dead, decomposing and maggot infested rabbit) his sister puts a walmart bag over her hand, picked it up, tied the bag shut over it and deposited it in the trashcan. HOLY FUCK. NO. BARE HANDED. She is now my God.
    .-= k8’s last blog post… Up and Down. Up and Down. =-.

  7. One of mine left just a tail on the living room floor one time. I picked it up thinking it was a piece of string. It freaked me out big time and I couldn’t stop washing my hands all day.

  8. Mister better WATCH OUT….because by cleaning up that mouse, you just proved you don’t need a man!!! You can live alone and just have a few boy toys around for the sexy time!

    “I am woman………..I am invinsible……”

  9. My husband and I split up the animals. I take the back and he takes the front. Which means anything that comes out of the front is his and I get what makes it out the back. Sounds like a deal, right? I mean, most inside animals are house-trained and all. Only thing is, when something comes out the back of a house-trained animal; it’s bad. real bad.
    .-= chicken lips’s last blog post… sex tape scandal =-.

  10. This story reminds me of growing up. In an old farm house. Where we might have had a little problem with mice. And the time I came home from school to find a dead one on the kitchen floor. And how I called my mom at work freaking out. And how she instructed me to clean it up. And how I freaked out a little more. And how she instructed me to call the neighbor kid. And how I talked to the neighbor kid’s mom, who said he wouldn’t be home for a few hours. And how I sat in the kitchen with that dead mouse keeping the dog away and waiting for the neighbor kid. And how I refused to clean that shit up. That’s how I roll. I feel for you.
    .-= SoMi’s Nilsa’s last blog post… Art =-.

  11. What do you think mixing bowls are for? If you cover the mouse with the bowl you can leave it til Mister gets home. Martha Stewart may disagree, but mixing bowls are for placing by the bedside of a sick child, collecting water from a leaking pipe or for covering a dead thing.
    Silly.

    p.s. dogs rule

  12. Ick that mouse looks big! Maybe it’s just the photo. Anyway when I lived with my best gay boy friend he used to make ME do all the gross stuff. One time his two dogs killed a squirrel and proceeded to chase each other around the yard with it. He made me go take it from them and put it in the dumpster. Gross.

  13. A dead mouse? Big deal. Way less smelly and disgusting than a baby’s blowout diarrhea that goes up her back and down her legs. And really no different than, say, the chicken parts you eat for dinner. Just sayin’.

  14. Some mornings I wake up and there is a little paper towel tent city in my house. We refer to this as Pukeapalooza. You see, Mr. POSSLQ cannot handle any sort of critter “mess”. So, I am the poopsmith and pukeapalooza mistress. Oh… he can cover it with the papertowel but if he has to pick it up…? I will be cleaning up POSSLQ puke, too. And really, people puke = lots frickin worse than pet mess. (IMHO)

    However, I think dead critter would probably fall to him to clean up. I’ll just give him a barf bag.
    .-= MsDarkstar’s last blog post… The Sweet Smell of Success =-.

  15. So you didn’t grab the kids and run out of the house until Mister came back home to clean it up? I guess then that’s only something I would do.

    You are far braver than me.
    .-= Marie’s last blog post… Windmill Cross? =-.

  16. I just hate it when nature thinks it can come and live with us civilized human beings.

    I probably would have put an old plastic tupperwear over the dead rodent and a brick or something heavy on top of that and then wait for my husband to come home to dispose of the rancid creature.

    Good Job Crissy!
    .-= Rebecca’s last blog post… Bzz Agent Reporting For Duty =-.

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