I don't think you're cute

There are a lot of reasons to live in New York. A billion people live here (I tried to walk through Chinatown the other day--a billion seems like a conservative estimate) despite it being vomit-inducingly expensive, so there has to be a reason. I love it. I really do. I “heart” NY or whatever, ok? What I don’t “heart” (other than people saying “I heart…” things--honestly, that needs to stop) are mice. Also waking up early, but right now, mice. They run too fast, their teeth can cut through titanium, the long tail and that claw-paw are scary and they look like Joanna Garcia. And Sunday night, we came face to pointy face. Most girls are afraid of mice, but I’m a strong, independent woman. You can’t come into my house and push me around. Who do you think you are? So I got off the chair, put my fears aside, tucked my pajama pants into my Hunters......and called Jeff to come over and get this thing out of my apartment, because *ear-piercing shrieks*.

After taking 68 bags and 112 pairs of shoes off the floor of my closet (and realizing I might be a hoarder) we finally found him behind the bed, and devised a plan of sticky traps and pathways that too ironically resembled a 50’s science experiment that ended with toxic glue instead of cheese.

Some people get all up in arms about glue traps being inhumane (*see idiots below) and even Jeff had a look of guilt on his face as he picked him up and took him outside to the trash, but I don’t share that sentiment. They’re rodents, not pets. Movies make you think they’re cute and friendly, but I didn’t hear one note of "Somewhere Out There," and he wasn’t wearing a hat or a jacket or anything.

I thought about doing whatever it is you’re supposed to do to free them from the glue (if there is such a thing) so that he could spread the word about 1B and the terror he had endured there, but then I remembered that my campaign platform is “tough on crime." 



*This isn't helping, PETA.  It's just embarrassing.  (Is that one girl topless?)