Thursday, November 4, 2010

I like killing flies!  I could stay outside all day trying to kill flies.  They are of no value to me.  I don’t feel bad about it.  I guess I could not be Hindu.

We have a fly problem going on right now in our backyard.  Maybe it’s all the dog poo or dead animal carcasses.  Either way, the flies are plaguing back there like Jesus is pissed and sending us a message.

It’s gross.  It makes me angry and disgusted.

We’ve tried many things, from cheap-ass flypaper to expensive traps that emit smells that almost make the fly infestation more palatable.

But nothing is working.

All of the four flypaper strips are bare.  There ISN’T ONE FLY IN THE ROTTEN SMELLING TRAP. NOT ONE!

I swear to God, the flies we have are superflies.  HAHA Like the wrestler!  They like, have super intelligence and crap.  Also, they are way more stronger than regular non-super flies.  Like, today, I trapped one in the bathroom and I was like, “Come to mama!”  and I got out this can of aerosol hairspray that is called HAIR FREEZE so you know it’s super sticky.  Like, when I use this hairspray on my hair a tornado has a hard time messing up my ‘do.  So, I was POSITIVE that if I sprayed this flying speck of pestilence with the hairspray, it would render his wings useless and he would plummet to the ground where I would smash him with my shoe.

But no, that did not happen. 

Let me tell you, I sprayed the EFF out of that bathroom!  I sprayed tons of hairspray on that fly and NOTHING!  Didn’t even slow him down.  I’m sitting in there gagging on the fumes and this little effer is buzzing away, healthy as can be.  I mean, if you lit a match in that bathroom there would’ve been an explosion because of all of the hairspray I let loose in there.

But the fly lives.

As do the rest.

Failure.

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