Debate? What debate?

Okay, I thought the debate sucked: President Obama looked like he wanted to get the hell out of there and go celebrate his anniversary with the First Lady, and Romney managed to be both assertive and mendacious without totally coming across as a smarmy prick and a shameless liar, which is something of a small miracle since he is both. Will it matter? Who the fuck knows?

But I was disappointed since I was hoping for a total Romney faceplant, and during one commercial break, after it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, I went to my laundry room/pantry to retrieve a jar of Cherry Bounce I had put up awhile back, hoping to improve my mood. This is what I saw on the bottom shelf:


Yes, my shelves need a good dusting, but forget that please and share my horror and consternation because—sweet Jesus! That’s a big fucking snakeskin! Which can only mean that at least one large snake has been slithering amongst my jars of homemade cordials! In my laundry room/pantry!

This type of event has a way of completely refocusing the mind, let me tell you. Instead of watching Tweety flip the fuck out in the post-debate analysis or reading Andrew Sullivan’s blow-by-blow account of covering himself in beagle shit and running through the streets bellowing doom and woe, I shook my husband awake and demanded that he find an all-night Home Depot and immediately create an airtight seal on every door, window, awning and roofline in this drafty fucking house.

He didn’t, of course, and that fucking snake—or maybe its thousands of babies!—are probably lurking in my unmentionables drawer at this very moment! So yeah, I’m not happy about how the debate went, but I now realize there are more important things happening. Like motherfucking snakes in my motherfucking laundry room/pantry. The end.

[X-posted at Balloon Juice]

Posted by Betty Cracker on 10/04/12 at 12:53 PM • Permalink

Categories: BoozeCrittersPoliticsBarack ObamaElection '12MittensOur Stupid Media

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My mother also lives in a house which we have taken to calling “permeable.” As in 10-foot black-snake permeable. Mama-san and the hapless fellow who works for her entered her study and poor Roy fixed his eyes over her head and made a sound like the air brakes on a bus. Mama-san turned around and lo, the frame on her favorite painting had scales and a tongue. “Oh Roy,” she said, “he’s more scared of us than we are of him.”

Roy demurred. For about ten months. Mama-san’s solution was to leave the door open, so the snake could escape. So there you go, Betty! We are Pollys, the problem solvers!

It would have to be a mighty mess of serpents that kept me away from a jar of your home-made Cherry Bounce, I can tell you.

For real creeps, I’ll go with Mitt’s moist, unblinking stalker-simper. EEeeeEEEeeeEEEE.

Yikes!  I guess the only thing more disturbing than the snake you can see is the snake you can’t see.  Be careful opening that unmentionables drawer!

I’ve had it with these MF snakes in my MF cabinets trying to drink my MF cordials!  :-)  Couldn’t resist.

I grew up in the High Desert of SoCal so I was accustomed to finding a snake or two in our house.

Holy Shit, Betty!

**pauses to think of something else to add**

Holy Shit!

Blacks for Romney

Comment by HumboldtBlue on 10/04/12 at 02:50 PM

That’s great HB!

And Betty, what donnah said!

Yeah, tripling down on the holy shit. If I thought I had a big-ass snake in my laundry room, I’d be thinking about wearing dirty clothes for awhile ....

Kinda takes the appeal out of going barefoot, doesn’t it?  You have my sympathies! 

Last week I moved something in our garage and found a HUGE black widow, which means I had to do the annual anal-retentive dismantling of every damned thing in the garage, hose off the floor, and put everything back.  This takes a good 10 hours, so thanks a lot, spiders!

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