It’s a dry sort of heat…
Now marks the first use of wireless internet on the balcony. Judges say, wireless internet from the balcony, although hot, gets an A+ rating.
The cute, clean, non diseased, coo cooing pigeons are closing in on me in an Alfred Hitchcock sort of way. I was eating a salad a few minutes ago and one lone pigeon came down from a tiled rooftop fifteen feet away to check out what was happening on my balcony. He kept walking up and down the roof, going behind the overhang and then walking out trying to be all casual, “Oh, don’t mind me here (flap, flap) I’m just stretching my wings, walking up and down this here roof .” *insert pigeon whistling in a forced casual manner*
In the ten minutes that it took to eat my salad, at least five pigeons have flapped across the complex to perch in the surrounding trees to watch me eat. One particularly aggressive bird is about five feet away, clamped on to a branch with his little birdie feet, his eyes burning holes me.
I’m getting the idea that some people might feed the birds from their balconies. It’s kind of cool, but a little unnerving. I started talking to the pigeons in a New York accent, saying things to them like “step off, or I’m a gonna’ breaka you face”. I noticed my downstairs neighbor is outside on his patio smoking. Hi neighbor, I hope you’re not from Brooklyn. From this angle, I am looking straight down on his curly, grey, hairy back. *Note to self: balcony curtains number one on the list.*
Murphy the dog is out here too. She’s laying at my feet with her head resting on the cement in between the metal railings of the balcony. She seems not to be interested at all in pigeons. I am sorry to say, and I haven’t told her yet, but, there doesn’t seem to be any squirrels in Las Vegas. Murphy the dog loved to defend her territory against squirrels. “Murphy get the pigeon / pine cone / kitty / cockroach…errrr…..palmetto bug / super speed fire ants,” just don’t have the same appeal to her even when said in the same playful and baiting voice.
I was going to tell the story of the ant filled kitchen but I’m hot, and I want to go in now. Should I? I will. Here’s the short form. Ants, not normal ants, Las Vegas ants, small, fast, thousands. Pet food=ants. X from the kitchen”ANTS! OH GROSS! ANTS!” Me walking into the kitchen with bare feet, “Where, I don’t see any ants? *puts on glasses* OH GROSS, ANTS!” Conclusion of story: 2 am X cleaned up ants and caulked the drier vent shut. Funny and handy that one.
Today X and I drove around town and made fun of Dr. Laura’s snorting laugh, went to Wallgreens, got coffee at a much friendlier Starbucks and ate at Denny’s. But mostly we drove around at made fun of Dr. Laura and decided that the kids we will never have would be allowed to wear a Marilyn Manson shirt to school, but not an Insane Clown Posse shirt. If our never to be in existence child insisted on wearing the I.C.P shirt, I would throw it behind the dryer and pretend not to know where it went. I would even go so far as to help him/her look for the missing shirt. Not that I’ve ever done anything like that before.<—-sly, baiting, sarcasm intimating that cindigo *has* in deed done something like that before.
In conclusion, today, Vegas overall rating B+ verging on an A-.
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