Archive for the Pest Control Category

THE KEVIN SERIES: Intricate Polychromatic Art Speak for Incongruous Fun Torturing Kevin

Posted in Activism?, Adventures and Interludes, Being a Virgo, Communication, Confusion, Life is like Christopher Guest said it was, Life Performance Art, Literary, Narcissisim, Pest Control, Philosophy?, Photoshopping Kevin, Special People, The meaning of life, The Process of Art, Therapy, Thoughts with tags on November 26, 2012 by Admin

An old image I found years ago:

which was then modified for an old blog post:

recycled for THE KEVIN SERIES.

THE KEVIN SERIES: Dissecting The Projectile Photshopping Opus Of My Muse, Kevin

Posted in Activism?, Adventures and Interludes, Being a Virgo, Communication, Confusion, Life is like Christopher Guest said it was, Life Performance Art, Literary, Narcissisim, Pest Control, Philosophy?, Photoshopping Kevin, Special People, The meaning of life, The Process of Art, Therapy, Thoughts with tags on November 26, 2012 by Admin

This is part of a new series I have only just realized I have been working on for days and which I shall post here as both intellectual fluff and bloggerly filler, as I slowly find my way past the crushing pain (I live with NINE herniated disks/sheer pain, daily) and back to the habitualities of blogging regularly.

This blog has been untended for some time yet I realize that with this sort of Spy vs. Spy relationship I have going on Facebook with my pal Kevin, I have created a series of artwork which should be shared with all, for Kevin says and does the craziest things.

After a grueling day spent posting about politics (which hurts my head, even to simply post that which I have observed, for posteriority) my brain needed an exorcism of sorts and so I made ART. I have a new muse, Kevin who, much like Dwight Shrute, is a farmer. Kevin is my muse. Kevin pretends to me angry about this, he rants, he raves, he threatens, and yet if I miss a day he starts baiting me which I smartishly recognize as begging for more.

Also, this is how my brain works:

And so, I present the new and ongoing series (until I become apathetic), Photoshopping Kevin. It begins with random photos stumbled upon in the interwebs and takes on a life of it’s own. So each opus shall include the before image.

I call this one, Dissecting the Projectile Photoshopping Opus Of My Muse, Kevin, With Identities Blurred.



CLAY GREENE: Once in a while a story comes along which truly horrifies

Posted in Activism?, Confusion, Pest Control, The meaning of life, Thoughts with tags , , , , , on April 20, 2010 by Admin

..and exposes true bullying, in the case of Phoebe Price, it is a case of Mean Girls, Mean Boys, and jealousy. In the case of Clay Greene, it is a case in which a whole SLEW of adults acted in such a horrifically insensitive manner as to make one think of that Phoebe Price case:



I am trying to find some sort of contact information to send support to Clay Green, either by way of money (we can all afford a dollar perhaps) or letters of love and support. As soon as I find anything, I will post it here.

Photo borrowed from this site, which includes the actual complaint filed on Clay Greene’s behalf.

Suit Charges Elderly Gay Partners Were Forced Apart


Clay M. Greene’s story, as recounted in his recent lawsuit against Sonoma County, is a tale of loss, doubled and redoubled. For gay men and lesbians, the series of events outlined in the complaint hits very close to home.Mr. Greene, a 78-year-old gay man from Sebastopol, has filed a lawsuit against Sonoma County after saying he sustained a spate of indignities at the hands of officials during a bizarre estate battle that took place when his partner, who was 88, fell and became hospitalized in 2008.News of Mr. Greene’s complaint came as President Obama was making headlines for his order extending hospital visitation rights and decision-making authority to same-sex partners.

The detailed complaint was filed on March 22, but news of it began ricocheting around the Internet, beginning on gay and lesbian sites Sunday and reaching venues like Daily Kos by Monday.Mr. Greene’s troubles began when Harold Scull, his partner for more than 20 years, fell down the steps of their home in April 2008. At the time, the complaint said, Mr. Scull was showing signs of mental impairment.County officials successfully petitioned the court to gain some powers of conservatorship. Then they “sold, kept, converted to their own use, and otherwise disposed of” almost $500,000 worth of belongings from the home shared by the two men — including furniture, art objects, memorabilia from the years Mr. Scull spent working in Hollywood, as well as a truck and two cats, the lawsuit alleges.

Mr. Greene said that he and Mr. Scull had previously specified each other as executors in case either became incapacitated, but the county ignored the legal documents and the history of their relationship, and at one point referred to Mr. Greene as Mr. Scull’s “roommate.”

Citing the state of Mr. Greene’s mental health, county officials then moved him against his will into a nursing home and sold the rest of his belongings, the suit charged. He was not allowed to visit Mr. Scull, who died several months later, in August 2008.

The nursing home, Agua Caliente Villa of Sonoma, is named as a defendant in the case. So is the auction company that sold the couple’s belongings.

The National Center for Lesbian Rights has joined the lawsuit, calling the situation an example of why “same-sex couples need full equality.”

Gay and lesbian elderly individuals, in particular, are vulnerable because “they are often estranged from their family and don’t have a legally recognized relative,” said Shannon P. Minter, the legal director for the National Center for Lesbian Rights. “Even here, where they had filled out legal documents, because their relationship is so thoroughly invisible and disrespected, it didn’t protect them.”

Mr. Minter said Mr. Greene’s situation was far less likely to happen to the surviving spouse of a heterosexual marriage.

Messages left at the office of Sonoma County’s legal counsel seeking comment were not returned. A message seeking comment left at the office of Anne Dennis, Mr. Greene’s lawyer, was not returned. Mr. Minter said Mr. Greene was unavailable for comment because he was in a “fragile” psychological state.

Embedded in the legalese of the complaint were stark anecdotal nuggets. At one point, as county officials moved through the couple’s home, the complaint alleged, they commented on the “quality” and “desirability” of the furnishings. They also mocked Mr. Greene, he said, calling him a “crazy old man,” said he had “dementia” and was a lost cause, laughed at him, and told him to “shut up and go to your room.”

On another instance, Mr. Greene claimed that employees acting as the county’s Deputy Public Guardians rolled their eyes and said in his presence, “you know how those gay boys are” and later expressed “displeasure at dealing with expressions of grief by a gay man who had lost his longtime partner.”

The case will go to trial on July 16, Mr. Minter said.

For more information about this case visit NCLR’s Elder Law Project.



Learn to Duck: Mobile Igloos and Manolo Blahniks

Posted in Activism?, Communication, Life is like Christopher Guest said it was, Narcissisim, Pest Control with tags , , , on December 22, 2008 by Admin

Now here’s a topic that gets heated on the comments section of related articles… I even found a google discussion group called, “FU people who don’t clean the snow from their cars”. And now, a collection of comments from around that interwebby thing:

–“Well, damnit, it is hard to climb up high enough in my Manolo Blahniks to reach the roof of my 2009 Colossus SUV and sweep all that icky snow off and it gets all over me and I might have to change my outfit but I can’t because I have to pick up Trip at lacrosse practice and take Princess to her play date and my frikkin’ cell phone is ringing and I just don’t have time, so it will just have to blow off while I am driving 50 MPH in that school zone and catching up on my calls and text messages.”

LOL! in New England, these are referred to as “mobile igloos.”

Use a broom. You actually have to work at it. But it can be done. You’ll get covered with snow. But you won’t melt.

My brother was killed by a chunk of ice that came from the top of a car.

–Many rules pertaining to driving an automobile can be described as “common” sense issues. Common sense is a myth.

–and, by the way, legislating “common sense” to avoid harm to others is fine by me.

–I’m going to put that on my ‘to do’ list for this summer.

–Oh, the people who don’t clean their cars off drive me crazy. Ticketing them would be awesome, except, this law has the exact same problem the one about putting on your headlights in the rain has — cops don’t get out of their cars in lousy weather.

–Dang, I thought this was already the law! So I’ve been cleaning the top of my car for nuthin’ all these years!?

–Love it! Pass it now! Nothing like having a huge chunk of ice hit your car when you’re rolling down the highway. Continue reading

Living La Subterranean Las Vegas Vida

Posted in Adventures and Interludes, Life Performance Art, Obsessions, Pest Control, Science? with tags , , on December 21, 2008 by Admin
As salmony-pink as the living room is beigy-beige, such is the bedroom in the underground house.

As salmony-pink as the living room is beigy-beige, such is the bedroom in the underground house.


As published in NEST, A Quarterly of Interiors, Spring 2003

What with the weather and all that, it seems like the perfect time for an underground house. While snow or tornados and other extreme weathers swirl above, you could be comfy swimming in your non-chlorinated pool (for algae does not grow underground) and having a cookout while the smoke is funneled out through the pipe that runs up through the fake hollowed out ‘tree’ behind it.

Imagine calling up your friends and saying, “Come on over for the weekend and stay till they plow us out above. We have a well-stocked fridge and a new recipe for shish-ke-bob that will amaze you! Bring the scrabble, grab your bathing suits…”. And yes. there isn’t often snow in Vegas but this year they did have snow and, as things go, that snow stayed in Vegas.

This all may or may not be what Gerald Henderson was thinking back in the late 60s when he began construction on his underground home, which is accessed by an elevator that takes one 25 feet underground via an old mineshaft. Above ground all one can see is a wrought iron fence and a rock garden and then one enters a small ‘house’, which (it is not exactly clear from the article) appears to be mainly an above-ground door and hallway, leading to the elevator.

The Underground Las Vegas House with view of the patio. Click for larger view.

The Underground Las Vegas House with view of the patio. Click for larger view.

Gerald Henderson was a longtime board member of Avon, and “a pioneer in the nascent Cold War-era discipline of subterranean architecture.” He was a bit paranoid, did not much like people and feared radioactive fallout. He built two other such homes in Switzerland and Colorado which are reportedly no longer standing. There is no mention of why those other two are no longer standing however, and I wonder at that why behind dismantling such an architectural feat, particularly since there are times when being underground seems such a great idea.

The Underground Las Vegas House with view of the yard and pool. Click for larger view.

The Underground Las Vegas House with view of the yard and pool. Click for larger view.

Anyway, according to the article, algae does not grow underground and so no chlorine is needed for the pool. The walls are murals painted to resemble Gerald’s childhood home in New Jersey as well as his sheep ranch in New Zealand. The muralist, Jewel Smith from Plainview, Texas, lived in a cottage in Continue reading

A Day without Gays

Posted in Activism?, Adventures and Interludes, Big Business Scams, Life is like Christopher Guest said it was, Pest Control, Philosophy?, Special People, The meaning of life with tags , , , , on December 11, 2008 by Admin




Yesterday was a Gay Sickout Day – DAY WITHOUT A GAY – as in all gay people were to call in sick to work to protest Proposition H8te. If I were still a manager in a company I’d be proud of any gay employees who called in sick. I am proud of all people who stand up for what they believe in, for doing so requires a level of bravery sufficient to stick your neck out (of the window of a moving vehicle perhaps, as metaphor for danger) and facing the inevitable detractors and ridicule that accompanies such a stand.

I did a search using Gay on a stock photography site and this is what it gave me.

I did a search using Gay on a stock photography site and this is what it gave me.

Why is that? Why do some people feel such loathing for those who stand up and say, “This is not ok; this treatment or whatever?” I had the two brave guys who are opposing the proposed mass pike toll hike on my radio show yesterday via call-in. I am proud of them.

But under the story in MassLive there is of course a snide comment or two. One person even wrote, “oh… poor wine seller…” (for one of the men is in sales of wine) and, “they use more so they should pay more…” which makes no sense because everyone pays the same toll when they use that same turnpike.

This almost makes more sense.

This almost makes more sense.

Anyway–here’s to brave souls, gay or otherwsie, who want life to be fair. 79% of the pike tolls go to salaries and a lot of them, at the top, are in the six-figure range. The Turnpike Authority is a quasi state agency as Governor Jane Swift was informed by a judge years ago when she tried to fire Christy Mihos for voting against a pike hike, thus not giving her the right to fire him for not following her orders (and since when can you order people to vote a certain way?). Wasn’t it this same SwiftGovernor who got frontpaged in the news for using a helicopter on taxpayer money to get through dense traffic and reach her home way back then?

So while the 21% remaining does go to the state, and an increased toll would add a bit to the state’s budget, how much can you squeeze the common folk who ride the pike and don’t have access to helicopters for riding to work and back home again? 

Squeezing from the bottom only works with toothpaste. Economically squeezing from the bottom might just elicit protests and I kinda wish there’d be more.You can sign their petition here. And the MassLive article is here. The history of the Mass Pike is here, in part.

Anyway, anyway, I thought A Day without Gays was a brilliant tagline and so perfectly reminiscent of Anita Bryant’s orange juice commercials way back then, which caused so much backlash that she lost that paying gig for the Florida Orange Juice group.

And then I made a few of my own:

Take Your Gay to Work Day

Have it Your Gay

Make Gay While the Sun Shines

A Gay a Day Keeps the Inequality Away

Take My Gay, Please

Too Gay to Work Today


Life is a scary Costume Farm. Boo!

Posted in Communication, Confusion, Idiomacies, Pest Control, Philosophy?, Special People, The meaning of life, Therapy with tags , , , , , , on October 21, 2008 by Admin
India Fashion Week - Manish Arora Spring/Summer 2008 - catwalk New Delhi, india (10/20/08).

India Fashion Week - Manish Arora Spring/Summer 2008 - catwalk New Delhi, india (10/20/08). Love the dress in the middle, but not just because it is in the middle.

The heroine (?@!) of the tale, Gem Irony – a possibly self-negating, anagramatic, and typically foolish moniker with too many descriptive comma-ish annotations (with each annotation requiring its own sub-annotation) – is pondering Halloweens past and present, but never the future. Such  self-negations make her wonder if she even exists, and, as such, if things are in fact, negative, or, negated. She rarely ponders the future, finding it to be a seemingly insurmountable and progress-hampering task, preferring a Scarlet O’Hara-ish avoidance approach. She is thinking about poseury, plumery, costumery and Continue reading

Lexiconographical Psychometric Meandering Manglings

Posted in Animal Stuff, Miracles, Narcissisim, Pest Control, Philosophy?, Superstition and OCD with tags , , , on October 18, 2008 by Admin


While searching for mythology regarding Opossums, I found this, from sacred-texts – “Although native speculation as to the beginning of the world seems undeveloped, the same cannot be said with regard to the origin of mankind, for on that point there are many different beliefs. The myths relating to this topic may be divided into three groups, according as they ascribe to man (a) a wholly independent origin, (b) an independent origin as incomplete beings, who are then finished or completed; or (c) describe a definite making or creation by some deity.”

Hmm. How many beings are actually complete?

Dueling mythologies such as the myth of Narcissus would seem to give evidence that Narcissism is a sort of insecure human incompleteness that is rampant. And, possibly slightly emotionally dangerous. To others.

Anyway–There is a cat living in my building. It is an orange-ish blur spotted by 3 of us now. I put out water and cheese for it. We have a huge mice problem and I am going broke buying peppermint oil and sacredly defending my space by prancing about dropping the oil around the perimeter of my space. But the universe sent me a cat! How perfect, letting the order of things fix … Continue reading

Are “rebates” a scam?

Posted in Activism?, Big Business Scams, Confusion, Life Performance Art, Pest Control, Thoughts with tags , , , , , , on September 27, 2008 by Admin


Picture taken by my "free" and mysteriously unrebated Verizon phone at The Big E.

Picture taken by my 'free' and unrebated Verizon phone at The Big E. Rebate Man is evilly gleeful with his XXX and his satchel of cash.

So Verizon, my cellular phone carrier, offered me a “free” phone meaning I had to pay for it and then get a rebate. So I mailed the barcode thingie and filled out the time-consuming paperwork and sent it in. I had it weighed at the counter at the post office to be sure I had adequate postage. Because I had heard about disappearing barcodes and rebates never actually collected, I had a friend witness the putting of the barcode into the envelope and the sealing of said envelope and the bringing of it to the post office. Sure enough, I got a postcard saying I could not get my rebate because of missing information – the barcode. So I called the phone number on the postcard. Dana informed me that machines open the envelopes and if they don’t find the rebates, the postcards about missing information go out.

Scary Clown with a mouth full of garbage. taken by my cheapo Verizon camera phone at The Big E.

Scary Clown with a mouth full of garbage. taken by my new "free" and as yet unrebated Verizon camera phone at The Big E. A picture speaks millions and millions of words. The road to hell is paved with unbought stuffed racehorses and pocketed noncollectable rebates. No good can come from ill-gotten gains and stolen inheritances. So many mangled adages, I'll quit while I am behind.

Hmmm. How did the machine miss the piece of cardboard with the magnetized bar code on it? Somehow it found my other information and knew how to contact me. Seems SORTA fishy. It’d make more sense if the whole envelope went missing. This happens a lot, from what I hear. Often people don’t make copies of the barcodes before mailing them. Who all has a copy machine? I don’t. But I did scan mine so I can print copies of it all day, every day. I is upsetting when companies scam. From what I hear such rebate scamming is rampant. Dana informed me that they get MILLIONS and MILLIONS of these envelopes with barcodes for rebates and tons of them are “missing” the barcodes. All those people forget to put the barcodes in?  If they save 50$ for every rebate they don’t have to send out, imagine the potential savings. I am going to file a class action suit. As soon as I figure out how. And someone needs to investigate this possible fraud/scam/whatever.

Another picture taken with my "free" Verizon phone which remains unrebated, at The Big E.

Another picture taken by my 'free' and unrebated Verizon camera phone at The Big E. Love this. Words speak a thousand millions and millions of words.

Dana informed me that when you send in your information AGAIN it is now opened by humans. Hmmm. For these humans to have to do this letter opening there have to be lots of them needing opening. Sounds inefficient. Do rebate houses get to keep the money they don’t have to pay out? I am on it. I am going to investigate. Inquiring Mos want to know. How many little old ladies (like me) get taken in this manner?

Addendum– remember the time I took the Verizon store hostage for over an hour to get a defective phone replaced and the tech people (why do they particularly care) refused to follow the orders of a manager at Executive Headquarters and the store Manager (again outranked by the the Executive HQ) refused to eve  get on the phone with the rep fro Exec HQ?  That old story from my old newsletter is here. And then I wrote about it again with links to other mad peoples’ stories here.

Another Addendum- A friend of mine bought a special something or other phone with that special EOD or whatever eye system thing which offered a $700 rebate. He didn’t read the small type about making a copy of the rebate and sent off the original barcode only to get the same postcard saying, “Oh, we didn’t get it. You’ll have to send another.” He is a highly intelligent guy who is all organized and such (although often bad about keeping in touch) but he missed that. I think they count on that. If 10% of the millions of rebate thingies they get are rejected imagine the savings? 700 times hald a million is….? In the case of Verizon even 1% of millions and millions of 50$ checks not having to be written is… ?

That camera company farmed out their rebates to a rebate house. I would love to know how that compensation structure works. I begged him to send me his rebate rejection postcard and let me do it. I begged him to file a claim in small claims court against the camera company and see if they sent a representative to his small town to answer the charges or if they just paid it. He didn’t let me. I might have gotten a judge to award what they call treble damages. That means times 3. I could likely file a claim in small claims court here in Whoville charging them with Unlawful, Unfair and Deceptive Business Practices. You can do that when you get taken. Why not? We need a Geraldo Rivera to make a surprise visit to the rebate houses with camera crew in tow and see what’s going on, or if he gets punched in the nose. Are there any Geraldos left?

Speaking of farming, I read a book in college called, “Three Farms”, by Mark William Kramer, in which the author researched 3 Farms; a small family-run farm, a medium family-run but with hired hands farm, and a large corporate farm in which he finally found the “farmer” in an office in some high rise glass building somewhere. The large corporate farm grew tomatos and sold them into the ketchup factory. By law they were able to sell x% of rotten tomatos per ton. So, they did all these time trials/experiments and regularly calibrated their conveyer belts as they went past the Quality Assurance pickers. They slowed down the machines so that not more than the allowed percentage of rotten tomatos got past. And they sped up the machines so the full amount of allowable rotten tomatos would get past. At the ketchup factory the rotten tomatos were treated with chemicals so they would not kill people. How do you like them possibly-metaphorical tomatoes?

Final Addendum- I called Verizon Customer Service this morning and got another Dana, just like the one at the outsourced rebate hour in El Paso. This Dana also seemed tired and annoyed but she agreed to credit my account, wearily, for the $50. Likely because I said I was going to go to the V-store to turn in my phone and cancel my contract. So if this happens to you, call Customer Service and don’t back down.

This is getting ridiculous…

Posted in Adventures and Interludes, Animal Stuff, Pest Control, The meaning of life, Therapy, Thoughts with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 3, 2008 by Admin

This blog is turning into a pest control rant. First mice, and then skunkings outside my window and now.. Brown Recluse spiders. I am turning into a spa of sorts for various pests of escalating danger. DANGER, I tell you.

BTW, I am trying peppermint spray for the mice. I brewed peppermint tea and added drops of peppermint oil and I obsessively-compulsively spray every few minutes around my whole space. It smells, and this is shocking, like peppermint. A lot. Chokingly. Knocking on wood… no mice. No mice in the luxury mice hotel traps I set with huge chunks of Gouda.

The spider in my tub this morning; asshole spider from hell.

The spider in my tub this morning; asshole poisonous killer malicious dangerous hunting spider from hell.

Anyway, this morning I killed a Brown Recluse. It wasn’t easy. it was a battle. I found him (surely it was a him, his name tag said “Mr. Spider”) in my tub. The fruit flies like to go into my tub every day and die.  I have fruit fly hotels scattered everywhere and they are full of dozens of dead fruit flies. Fruit fly hotels are merely recycled plastic hummus containers with vinegar in them and a few tiny holes in the lid. They climb in and can’t get out and die of obesity and entrapment.Brown Recluse spiders are not web spinners; they are hunters and they are lazy. They hunt insects and such and are happiest when they find dead ones, like prepared foodstuffs.

So, I sprayed scalding water and Mr. Brown Recluse Spider dropped and rolled. He kept springing back to life. I had to try to crush him with the soap dish. Even down to one last leg he still ran, dropped and rolled. I recognized his kind; I was bitten by one back in a day – somewhere about 1992. It was after my broken leg and before my snapped neck episode. I measure time in calamities. I was often called Calamity Jane as a child.

So back in that day I woke up to find a bite. I scratched it, as I am wont to do, and it got bigger. And bigger. Soon it was a mass, about which I will spare you the details. Finally I went to the ER at Beth Israel Hospital. They said it looked like a Brown Recluse bite. I had seen him then – monochromatic brown, violin shaped, markings on the back, 8 legs, smirky face of evil intent. I forget what they gave me. Antivenom perhaps. And valium. They cleaned up the nasty mess on my ankle and bandaged it and informed me that I’d have to have my apartment exterminated specifically for the Brown Recluse. I’d also have to sleep somewhere else till it was fully and professionally exterminated.

So I called Mrs. Brown, my landlord. Mrs. Brown always wore a navy blue suit. It looked like the same suit but surely it could not be. Mrs. Brown owned 12 apartment buildings in Boston. Mrs. Brown laughed – she had a jolly laugh – when I explained my situation and need of utmost urgence for brave people in tyvek suits with poison to make a house call. But she called, and the exterminator came, and I lived. I had to wear a suit to work back in that day and slacks were frowned upon for the women in this office (men could wear slacks) so I skipped off to work each day with a little suit and a big bandage around my ankle. I still remember picking shoes to match my bandage and then choosing an outfit to go with the shoes. Fortunately it was summer, for how ridiculous would it look to have stockings on over a bulky bandage?

My internet research about getting rid of this particular spider does not turn up peppermint oil variety remedies. It seems I’ll have to either call an exterminator, leave, spread powdered poison, or set glue traps. “Be careful when removing the traps for the spider may still be alive, wear gloves” they warn. Sigh. “Many times during those months the brown recluse will go without any food or water. It is nearly impossible to fully get rid of brown recluse spiders once they have become established in these areas of the home. The brown recluse does not spin a web either to catch their food; instead they hunt their prey which usually consists of insects, either dead or alive.”

Super Sigh.

Years later and after many moves I called up Mrs. Brown to see if she had any apartments available and when I said my name she laughed jollily and said, “Oh! The Brown Recluse lady!”

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