Golf anyone?

Guess what I found on my balcony the other day?! A golf ball! Ahhhhhh, the joys of living on the 15th hole...

Scorpion #4

I've lived in my apartment for almost six months now and last night scorpion visitor #4 was put to death. I was sitting in my big chair, half paying attention to the tv while talking on the phone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my carpet move. The sneaky little bugger was crawling near the baseboards and basically blended right into the carpet. After screaming, hyperventilating, shaking, running in circles, etc., for 10-15 minutes, I dug out my "Scorpion Cup" from underneath the kitchen sink and trapped the scorpion on my living room carpet. Then I put a book on top of the cup to weigh it down. Meanwhile, I'm still on the phone. I convinced my friend to come over and kill it for me. Keep in mind that it's practically the middle of the night -- about 3 am before the ordeal was finished. We tortured it with rubbing alcohol on the kitchen floor, scalded and drowned it with hot water, and took it out to the balcony and burned it.

I don't get it, though. FOUR SCORPIONS IN SIX MONTHS. I know people who have lived in the desert for years and they've never seen one. Why me? I realize I live on a golf course and there's actual desert landscaping not 5 feet from my balcony. However, I'm on the 2nd floor. Aren't there any residents to "bug" (I'm clever, I know) on the 1st floor?

In the end, I only slept for 3 hours because it took a couple hours to actually get the courage to kill it and a couple hours to wind down and catch my breath. It could be worse, though... or maybe not.

So who's coming to visit me?

Dove chocolates

I love Dove chocolates. Especially the dark chocolates. And they have these "cute" little sayings on the foil wrappers. The one I just read was, "Happiness is sharing chocolate with a friend." From this I can conclude that I will never be happy...I don't make it a habit to share my chocolates.

Shower record

I think I just set a new record for taking the longest shower without actually accomplishing anything. The point of my shower was to scrub off the paint that had accumulated during an 8-hour painting stint at my friend's new house. When I got out of the shower, I realized that at least 75% of the paint was still on me. Yet my fingers and toes were starting to turn pruney, thus indicating a somewhat lengthy shower outing.

You see, the shower (and this may be too much information for some of you, so I encourage you to stop reading now if this is going to embarrass you) is where I practice telling my stories. It helps me to remember them so that I can re-tell them to others while minimizing the number of times my tongue gets all tangled up over my words (which is inevitably going to happen anyway, since it is ME we're talking about). As it turns out, the stories in my head tonight were funny enough that I couldn't stop laughing...to myself...in the shower...at 11 pm. To top it all off, I've been out of the shower for less than 10 minutes and I can't even remember what I was laughing at.

Bummer dude.

Update

I woke up this morning with my shoulder sockets hating me. It's good to know that a hike up Camelback will do that to my upper body. Now I just need to figure out what type of exercise will make my legs sore. WHY AREN'T MY LEGS SORE?!

As for an update on the sunburn sitch-e-ation...good news. My nose seems to be the only victim. I suspect the minimal peeling may start (and end) tomorrow.