I'm a Stone Cold Killer

We have a bit of an ant problem in our kitchen right now. They're not taking over the place or anything, but they love my little compost scraps bucket, so I've had to move it outside which is a pain in the ass because I'm intrinsically lazy and don't want to bring it in every time I cook a meal OR empty it every time I cook.
The trouble for me with pests, is that I anthropomorphise EVERYHING from the rat we killed last month to the snails, slugs and earwigs that plague my veggie patch. I become wracked with guilt whenever I kill any of these little invaders and the ants are no different.

For the past week, every time I've gone into the kitchen, no matter how sparkling the counters are, there have been up to ten ants scurrying around in this little spot on the counter. After a pasta dinner the other night, I went in to clean up and found a gang of the little sods looking for crumbs. I brushed them all to the floor and squashed them under foot.

Then I saw it.

A huge crumb of parmesan cheese being carried by one single solitary ant, hurrying back to his mates to show off, only to find that they'd all gone.

I swear I could see the panic on his little face when he returned to their little patch and he was all alone.

And then came down the had of God.

And he got brushed to the floor and stomped.

And I still feel like a dick.

The World Cup, Only More Entertaining

Last night, Husband and I were having one of our post-light-out silly chats, which, much like many of our daytime, pre-lights-out chats ended up in completely absurd territory.

I had been watching the England V Mexico footie match, which was our last match before the world cup. Having a half-Mehican husband and wanting to see what kind of shape our team was in before the big tournament, I tuned in with Stepson.

If you're easily offended, go somewhere else now...

I posted on Facebook that I was worried that the Mexican team might have the advantage because they were used to running long distances in sweltering heat and they have bean-farts as a secret weapon, while all we have is beer sweats and hooligans.

My Friend Sabrina posted back "And I must admit that Sombreros are a lot more attractive than sunburns!"

For the rest of the game, my brain superimposed sombreros on all of the Mexican players, whch made me giggle and that got me thinking.

I think that each country should have to play in their respective National costume, as decided by the other teams.

How much more fun would the matches be if Holland v Mexico was played in clogs and mariachi outfits? Even better if the Mexican goalkeeper was wearing a guitar on his back!

What about Australians in Crocodile Hunter outfits with those dangly-cork hats playing against Englishmen in pinstriped suits, bowler hats and wing tips!

Germany would be in lederhosen, Canadians dressed like Mounties, France dressed like mimes, with strings of garlic around their necks and Italians like... hmmm, maybe like Il Divo? Machiavelli?

I do know that Argentina would have to play with a football glued to one hand for the duration (Yes, Maradona,  I am still holding a grudge.)

I got a bit stuck trying to think of non-offensive South African and Chinese costumes but think that Japan should have to play dressed like geishas, even though they're girls' clothes because it would be hilarious.

For the US, I couldn't really think of anything besides jeans, tee shirts and tennis shoes, which wouldn't be allowed at all, because that's not debilitating in the least. Maybe, that would be decided by region? So if the player came from East LA, he would have to wear baggy denim shorts with a chain wallet, a wife beater and flannel shirt and a hair net, but if he was from Connecticut, it would be Sperry Topsiders with no socks and a sweater tied around his neck?

I think I have figured out how to exponentially increase the viewership of the World Cup and am going to start a Facebook group to petition FIFA to make these changes before the 2014 world cup.

This is going to make me rich!