Handy Me

Ahh...fresh air finally. Without the threat of small, medium or king-sized flies coming in through the window. Not to mention mosquitos.

See, I just installed a mesh cover over the window that I got from Blokker, and I did it all by myself! :D It's quite a nice feeling, considering that usually when a light bulb goes out in my place, it stays out for at least a few months before it gets the least bit attention (I just can't be bothered to change it). That and I usually let others take care of things like that, such as mosquito-chasing and zapping, fly-catching and cleaning out dirty garbage cans (muahaha).

It's not that I can't do any of that myself. But when there is someone to do it for you, it's just so easy to let them do it and get used to them doing it... but now that there's no one here I finally did something myself and it feels pretty damn good. :)

GOBS: Girls Only Ball Sports

So today was the first day of the girls-only games at work. Me and 5 other girls from our team went venturing out into the hot sunny bball court to play some 3 on 3, blondes against the dark-haired ones. :) We started alright, but realised quickly none of us knew the rules of 3 on 3, as in what do you do if the other team gets the ball, (apparently you hafta throw it back out) so we settled on playing full court 3 on 3. Needless to say, we were pretty exhausted after 15 mins or so of running around!!

Anyway, next week is gonna be tennis! I hope it's as sunny as it is this week :) It should be by now, it's June dammit!!

Babies and muisjes

Today, one of our colleagues brought in his nearly brand new baby in for everyone to gawk at. Being a mixed kid of Danish and Japanese descent, he was destined to be a star as he was cradled and rocked in a very rugged (and probably very expensive) stroller.

It's amazing how many people are having kids now!!! Is it cuz we're at "that age"??? Anyway part of Dutch tradition is to spread butter on really DRY, CRUMBLY biscuits and then sprinkle blue and white (for boys) or pink and white sprinkles on 'em, and then eat them altogether. So, these MUISJES, as they are called, were consumed by us in a circle, while we all stared silently at the lil baby, occasionally oo'ing and ah'ing here and there.

The baby was cute, but I can't say the same about the muisjes. Turns out the lil sprinkles were actually sugar coated aniseeds, which tasted something like a mix between mint and licorice. Apparently they were traditionally eaten by new mothers to encourage lactation (upon hearing this I had trouble swallowing) but then, if men eat them too, I should be okay... (?_?)

It must be something to become a parent. It seems that once you are one, you suddenly connect with all other parents. Suddenly you can ask them, 'Did your baby get that too?' or 'What did you do when your baby did this?' etc. It's that deep nod they give to each other, an acknowledgement of the 'i know what you're going thru' feeling, that somehow bonds people that have kids. I guess its' the same for everything though. I've also heard that people who lose their parents, can only be understood by others who have gone through the same. Funny how human beings connect isnt it...

*random thoughts continue...*

Sucky Eye Makeup Remover

Just a tip for all the girls out there - don't buy L'Oreal's eye make up remover!! It's pretty cheap but doesn't work at all. Basically it just removes your eye shadow but as for mascara/eye liner? Forget about it! You're better off paying double for the Body Shop's amazing camomile-based eye make up remover instead!!

Bite my a**!

Hey y'alls!

I was in Nice, France the past weekend visiting the French Riviera and enjoying some warmer temperature and balmier sights. We were on our way to Cannes, and stopped at Antibes to check out Fort Carré, which happened to be closed. Anyway, I needed to use the washroom so we stopped first at the Piranha Café right across the train station.

Walking in, we saw that the cafe had real piranhas in a tank, floating ever so still, and some of them had bite marks on their upper backs where the others had obviously bitten a chunk out of. Gross. Anyway, I walked into the back where the washrooms were, and waited for the ladies room to be free.

A minute passed, and then another few, and I got desperate so I pushed open the Men's toilet, only to find 3 urinals. A few more minutes passed, and I thought, ugh this is takin too damn long so I'll just go somewhere else.

Walking out again, I was passing by the bar when the man behind it said in his typical French accent, "What would you like to drink? Tea, coffee, water?"

"Oh, no thanks, I'm fine," I replied. On second thought, I asked him if he had any ice cream, as it was such a fine sunny day.

"Non, that is only for eat-in, by the kaart. Tea coffee water, you must order something," he continued, and blabbed on about how I used his toilet, and that I need to order something now. Calmly, I explained that I hadn't used his toilet, and that I had waited, but it was locked with someone inside. (In fact, the women's toilet required a 4-digit security code that you punch into the wall, in order to get in!!!) Anyhow, he said "I am not crazy, I saw you go in and I saw a man come out, now you must pay, what do you want - tea-coffee-water."

Our bantering went back and forth, and he was convinced I had used his goddamned toilet, which I totally hadn't(!!) so in the end, I had had it, so I gave him the *HAND* (sorta) and said, "I'm NOT paying! What the hell.." as I walked out of his stupid cafe (secretly panickin a bit and hoping he was not racing out behind me.)

Surprisingly, he didn't chase after me, and I was able to prevent being gypped out of 2 euros, just for stepping inside his godforsaken cafe. So the lesson is - if you go to Antibes someday, dont visit this Piranha man!! He is a total jerk and for all I care, he can make like a piranha and BITE MY A**!!.

Pulverized

"Do you have any problems?"

"No..."

"Oh, I see, you just come today for relax?" said Michael, the well recommended Taiwanese massage guy that my mom frequently went to for Chinese 'massage'. I put that in quotations for a reason, which you'll soon see.

It started out okay, a few moments of feeling flattened like a pancake in several spots and the standard pokes and prods that you'd expect from a Chinese massage. I found myself face down in a heavily toweled head-hole, and despite the stuffiness I caught myself driftin off to sleep once or twice (couldn't hide those beginnings of snores).

I was rudely awakened though when he began to work on my lower legs. He literally kneaded them like they were MEANT to be silly putty, running his entire arm down my calves and rubbing so damn hard I thought the meat was gonna come off. He then proceeded to use his nailed fingers to find my tendons and apparently try to separate them from my muscles, pinching and scraping and at the same time pressing through my legs.

At this point I thought - maybe I should say something (as this was NOT exactly 'relaxing') - but then, maybe pain is good for the soul, just to be able to appreciate the nonexistence of pain. So, I kept it in, for a good while.

THEN, he turned me over. The tenderizing of my whole body continued, and all the while I imagined I was a prison inmate/terrorist being tortured until I told the truth. I felt like a wiener schnitzel, pounded by a human version of one of those metal studded hammers, ready to be breaded and fried. I eventually made whimpering noises, to which he just responded with a "yes you are sore, velly sore" and continued rippin through my muscles!!!

When it finally ended, I asked my mom whether it was supposed to hurt that much. Apparently it is (!!), and now my blood circulation is supposed to be much better. It better be, because I totally feel like I've been run over by a truck 4x. :P

FUR IS BAD

Today on the corner of Robson and Burrard, there was an anti-fur protest outside of Bebe, a major retailer who uses real fur in their items. They were there to tell people not to buy products with fur, because alot of animals are inhumanely slaughtered and skinned alive just for a piece of trim for your new jacket or scarf.

Surprisingly, many people didn't bat an eyelash and continued shopping, not even taking the time to listen to what the people were saying, or even if they considered the thought that it might be true, they would just rather not know the details to it.

I couldn't help feeling really sick and disgusted while watching the footage they had of animals being stepped on, necks almost broken, hanging from something while kicking their front legs, while their skin was being ripped and slice off their bodies. The poor things, and what was all this for? Just to adorn a fashion item???

I hadn't seen anything as brutal as the videos today since I went to the bullfight in Spain last July. If you're at all interested and have any sort of care for animals, you might want to watch the embedded video for an insider look at what really goes on. I hope it opens up your eyes too...

Home

Got home last night after a long-ass flight. Went straight to dinner with the fam and the usual family friends from HK. Heard the predictable lines of "You lost weight" and "You gained weight (but thats good cuz it means you are takin good care of yourself)" and "How pretty your daughter(s) are" etc. Getting pretty tired of all that as it seems so fake and you know its just something thats obligatory for Chinese people to say to any Chinese girl. Ah well.

I have to admit that I wasn't really that excited to come home this time around. Sure its Christmas and its always that I miss home during Xmas, and I do miss family and friends and all the delicious Vancity food, but there's just something different this time around. If I had to pinpoint it, I think it's cuz this is the first time that it doesn't really feel like home here. It's like that line from Garden State:

Andrew Largeman: You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone.

Sam: I still feel at home in my house.

Andrew Largeman: You'll see when you move out it just sort of happens one day one day and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for you kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.

It's so strange, like when I was making tea this morning and wondering where the sugar was, I realised that there's no sugar jar here, like the small one I have back home in Amsterdam. Instead, there was just a big canister for cooking normal food with sugar, so I just skipped it altogether. It just seemed strange to me, and so reverse from before, when I would use the stuff at home in vancouver as a 'sane point' with which to measure everything else in life. Now, what I do in Amsterdam is what seems most normal...

I guess its all part of growing up, and moving out...

Tax time again...

So, after months of agony, I finally got my 2004 taxes back a few months ago. With a sliver of hope resurrected in me, I decided to go ahead with trying to file for my 2005 taxes, first by checking out the website of the Dutch tax authorities.

This is what I found:

NO COMMENT... -___-

The Dutch are awful

Holy blood pressure! Let me calm down again...

As easily predicted, I have just been on the phone once again with another Dutch Customer "SERVICE" (quotations right there so) line that called me to infuriate me to my wit's end. This time, it was an ADSL company.

I had my left number a few days ago to get them to call me, just to inquire about possibly signing up. But today, when I picked up and told him right away that I couldn't make a decision today about it, he tried to close the call immediately. Hoping to get at least one question in, I asked him how long it would take to get connected if I was going to start a new account.

"I can't tell you that, I would need your details," he stated matter-of-factly.
"But I just want to know how long it takes to set up an account with you-" I jabbed in.
"I can't help you with that. I don't know, I'm sorry, I don't know."
"How can you not know, you work for the company!"
"Yes but I'm sorry I can't help you, I don't have your details."
"So you called for nothing, you can't help me with anything at all, what-"
"I'm sorry, I don't know. I can't help you, when you want to sign up you can call again and leave your number. I can't help you-"
"So you can't help me with anything,"
"No, I'm sorry, I don't know-""Yea yea, thanks for NOTHING!" *click*

ARRRRRGHGGHG!!!!!!!!!! I've been sheltered for the past while from the slow, lazy, dumb and fat-headed ways of the Dutch, ever since working in an American company where the Dutch are mostly "second-class" workers (janitors, store workers, reception, cantine, etc.) and have adopted a very American way of being. By this I mean, they smile, they are friendly, eager to help, and very, very nice people. Real Dutch people, however, are another story as you would know if you have ever lived in Holland for more than a year. OMG!!!!!

I seriously had a spike in my heart rate after that phone call and I'm going to avoid having any contact with the "real" Dutch from now on. Especially if it's got anything to do with administration! Geez!!

No, I haven't died...

...but I may have gone to heaven. Job heaven that is.

*blows dust off blog surface*

Yes it's true, I've finally left my bank job and I have never been more overjoyed, amazed, in awe, elated, giddy, ecstatic, happy, etc. (I could keep going but I won't) about joining a company that I am truly proud to be a part of.

"It's like everything I dreamed, and more." ~Me, a few days ago ;)

Now that I have a (real) job, one where people are productive, actually do work and the work directly affects the results, I have much less time to blog. Nevertheless, I will try my best to keep it alive...somehow. :D

Til next time.

Things I've learned...

Yesterday while chit-chatting with Maija and Ola, two girls who like me were from the 'old skool' crew of AIESEC trainees in Amsterdam, Maija mentioned that she felt like she had aged five years during her one year in Amsterdam. I cackled for a bit, but then a few seconds later I realised she was right.

When you are at home, nothing really new happens that make you struggle or suffer. Maybe small things like a flat tire, or a job loss, but other than that, life is pretty regular. Being abroad however is rather different. With nothing steady in your life, changes happening all the time, there you are without anyone to rely on or call up for critical times. You really need to take care of yourself, whether that means cleaning the toilet (yes, YOURSELF), or paying big time bills and taking care of your health insurance, for example.

Now that I have been in Amsterdam for almost two years, I've decided to share with you all everything that I have learned, whether it has to do with life, random facts or whatnot. Hopefully, you will learn something from it too.

• Tanning in a sun bed can lead to a severely burnt butt.
• Watch out for car doors opening at you while biking.
• Sometimes it is better to hold your tongue and keep evil plots to yourself. (In other words, honesty is not always the best policy.)
• Mice poop can be fatal for humans.
• If you want to ask someone something, make sure you ask 10 different people and don't trust the first answer you get. Question everything!
• Never sign a contract for something that a) doesn't exist or b) has not opened yet.
• Do not pour oil into sinks - this can lead to clogged drains.
• If your fridge leaks, you probably have a problem with your drip cup.
• Always open red wine bottles away from yourself.
• To fix a burnt out light bulb, you really do have to change it yourself.
• Always lock your bike to something other than itself.
• Sucking up and being fake has its advantages.
• Even if you are the best person to do the job, you can still get fired.

It's getting late and I must go pump some iron, thus the list is to be continued...

However, I will add one more thing before I go, which is probably the most important thing I've learned while being in Amsterdam.

*~Everything changes when you fall in love.~*
xoxo pojkey!! :)

Til next time!!

Not dead yet!

'O my god, that's like, my worst nightmare,' is what most Dutch people have remarked when I tell them what has just recently happened to me. The ironic thing is, they've lived in Holland for most their lives and it's never happened, yet I have been here for less than 2 years and I could tell you many more stories of a similar kind.

What is it that has happened, you ask? Well the funny thing is, I used to think it was hilarious to hear of someone getting run over by a car, ie. the rolling of the person slowly onto the windshield (not the drive by running over of old punjabi people, that is serious stuff man). I guess what happened to me is similar to the first scenario.

I was having a sunny, happy Friday...I was off work and biking along, enjoying my new job offer, the nice weather, the radio friendly songs that came out of my bubble gum pink Sony walkman bean, when I suddenly saw [in slow motion] a navy blue car door swinging open. Speeding up, I thought, 'i'll just swerve around it on the left' but of course, I ended up hitting the car door FULL FORCE w/ the right side of my body, overextending the car door and throwing myself into the middle of the street.

Dazed, I saw two bronze sneakers approach me from the right while I could hear a lady saying "O god, O god." A crowd gathered around, and as I seemed to be blocking traffic, they asked me if I could get up. Looking down at my bloody shin, I kept my stone face on and said no. Honestly I couldn't have moved my legs even if I wanted to...So, the bronze-sneakered lady (I had yet to see her face) and another short-haired Dutch lady grabbed me by the armpits and dragged me off the road.

At first, I thought it was nothing serious, maybe some skin wound, but the bronze-sneakered lady, whom I had looked in the face now, told me that she knew the lady in the adjacent pet store, and we should go there so we can clean up the wound. I said very little to her, half mad and half hoping that my silence would make her feel worse about what she had done. So, we went in the store and I was given either a baby chair or a chair covered in cat fur to sit on. I took the baby chair and the lady, who I could see now had curly blonde afro-hair and dark skin, took the roughest towel I've ever seen to clean out my wound.

I don't need to tell you it hurt like hell but at this point I was still stone-faced, well okay maybe I was frowning a bit too. But then... I noticed that I couldn't lift my right shoulder!! PANIC!! So I told her and she got freaked out too, saying that I had hit her car door pretty hard, and that she couldn't even open the door anymore!! (Sweet!!) So she decided to take me to the hospital, but first we would see her sister, who used to be a nurse(?!). We drove up to a clothing boutique, where I limped in and got checked out by her sister. I heard her say in Dutch, "It doesn't look good," which got me kinda even more panicked, so I limped back into the car and closed the door. The dark lady walked back to the car w/ a friend of hers, who walked up to my window and gave me the "awwww" look as if I were a homeless animal. The dark lady came back in the car and we drove to the hospital.

Slowly but surely, I began to understand why she was able to open her car door so quickly without checking if there were bikers coming by. She was extremely careless, from the way she drove (tailgating!!) to the things she just didn't notice... When we arrived at the hospital, she went in through an exit, and then despite THREE (3) 'Spoedeindehulp' signs (Emergency), she made the first left turn into the farthest possible parking lot from our destination. Once in the hospital, she placed me in a hard wooden wheelchair, and proceeded to push me to the Emergency section.

A few collisions with a door, a wall and a children's stool later with my injured leg, we made it to the Emergency section where I checked in. First, she rolled me in backwards so that I was sitting right under the little TV where they were showing the World Cup game. 'Great spot,' I thought as I stared at all the other sickies in the waiting room who were staring at me inadvertently while they watched the game. Finally, realising that we might not be in such an interesting location, the lady rolled me to the other end of the room. There, with my leg oozing blood we watched Germany beat Argentina, and the lady even bought me a Twix bar and some tea (Yum!).

While waiting, I found out the lady's name was Gladys and that she had a huge hairy mole on one of her ring fingers. I didn't stare long at it though, and before long, Christian came (YAY!!!!!!!!!) Thank god!!

Anyway to cut a long story short, we got my arm checked out with X-rays, and nothing was broken. The doctor swiped my leg with a cotton pad with what seemed like pure acid and then put a bandage on it, and before long we were out of the hospital again. Gladys was nice to give us a ride home, in her 2-seater truck with storage space in the back for stowaways, and she also gave us 1 month gift certificates to the gym she goes to (which has a sauna that I can use to heal in).

[side note: i really would not fancy seeing her nude in the sauna, omg. even tho she said she was an ex-model, and that she once poured hot liquid on her chest and there was no scarring, i would prefer not to have proof that the aloe vera really worked.]

So now, I have a cheese cloth sling around my neck, which doesn't actually do much for me since it's my shoulder that is immobilized, and two big holes in my shin. I guess it will be a permanent souvenir from Amsterdam, but perhaps it won't be the last! People have told me to wear a helmet, but I still don't get why I of all people keep having these bike accidents?? One thing is for sure though, this time was definitely not my fault!

Current snapshot of Amsterdam

Weather: Was actually *cold* the past few days and only starting to warm up to hopefully 30 degrees this weekend.
Mood: Ppl are triest/sad over the World Cup loss. Orange banners and flags can still be seen strung out in almost every street.
People: Still rude as ever. Welcome back to "It's not possible" as the most common thing people say here. Still trying to run me over on my bicycle.
Roads: As always under construction.
Ultracool gym that I signed up for 3 months ago: Still not open and will not open for at least 1 month more (wtf!!). [Note to self: Never sign a contract for anything that is yet to open and offers a too good to be true free DVD player sound system.]

After returning from a 2-week dream vacation in Vancouver, it's been a quick slap back into the harsh Dutch reality, where people are unfriendly (in Cdn standards anyway), nothing is mogelijk/possible, flexibility is an unknown concept, and frustrations are all abound.

Welcome home!! :-D

Stuffy head

Well it's a relatively nice day but now it's clouding over just a bit. Just like my head actually. It started out fresh n' clear, and over time, it is now fogging over and I have aches in my ears and throat. Looks like I've got a cold... :(

Anyway, the day has almost finally come!!! Going home... Must pack tonight and get the last minute shopping done. Don't have that much time to post but here is something that may be of interest to many who have been dooped to think that the Netherlands is a very open and tolerant place:

One in 10 Dutch people are racist: poll

Enjoy!

Goodbye nice flat

Goodbye nice open flat
I must move because of the rats
who defecated all over the place
putting a grimace on my scrunched up face.

Goodbye green floral couch
that was perfect for an afternoon slouch
I could sink into it with joy
and eat my fried tofu made of soy.

Goodbye kingsized waterbed
I slept in you as if I were dead
Sometimes I'd wake up with sore joints
but even then you still scored high points.

Goodbye big white oven
that allowed me to make cookies by the dozen
but I just couldn't look at you the same
after finding mice poop all over your stovetop covering windowpane.

Poor mousie

You know it's gotta be pretty bad when a man lets out a yelpish groan, one that makes your spine tingle and your hairs raise. It was like that today when Christian was disposing of the half-mouse that was clamped between the black mouse trap that M&C had bought me before they left for their month-long eurotrip. Although the cut-in-half Reese bite had been in the trap for over a week, it was only now that a lil mouse dared to go for it. In doing so, he lost his lil life. When I discovered his dark half of a mouse body on my kitchen floor, I was pretty sick and saddened too.

It's true, I have a mouse problem. It started small but now it's just uncontrollable. Mouse poop is everywhere in my kitchen, the apartment reeks of a semi-sour piss, I have even seen 2 mice eating out of my cracker bag, which is in a cupboard hanging above the sink.

Yes they are small, and yes, they are quite cute. But when they defecate all over the f#¤king place, I just cannot accept them anymore. Last Sunday, we got poison pellets that dry them out from the inside. Apparently, it's sort of like a mummification process (mental note: if it exists for humans, i might just use it for my own future mummification heehee) whereby the mice eat the poison, get real dehydrated, and then just die somewhere (hopefully in private, or spending their last moments with their wife/hubby n' kids.) Sigh... sad.. oh so sad...

Our next career move: Professional burglary

A few days ago, Mayling came to visit me with her friend Allan and they stayed at my apartment. When they left, I told them to drop off the keys in my mailbox, so that I could get them later on with my other set of keys. Little did I know that I only had *one* mailbox key, and that key was of course inside of the mailbox.

Me and Christian joked a bit about using magnets/clothing wire hangers/other 'long' things to get the keys out of the mailbox…and I thought ‘shit, I need to bother my landlord for such a stupid thing’, but before calling him, we decided to take a shot in the dark and pick the mailbox lock.

It was a nice warm summer night, and I began by shoving any small key I had on my keychain into the mailbox. Nothing fit except for a small bike lock key, which I jammed into the lock and wiggled for minutes unsuccessfully. Then, we proceeded to pound on the mailbox. This probably didn’t help much except for to vent our fury. I then flipped open the lil flap to the mailbox and tried to reach in, but of course my hand was too damn big. Flipping the flap up and down also didn’t do much to help.

Remembering that I had a bobby pin in my hair, I took it out and shoved it into the lock. It went in further, but couldn’t grip onto anything. Nevertheless, Christian wiggled the bobby pin at maybe 1000 vibrations per minute, frantically trying to pop the lock. Still nothing. I thought, maybe its time to give up. This will never work…

However, the lock had turned to a 45 degree angle now… and I thought.. maybe.. just maybe.. and I shoved the small bike lock key once more in, and turned it fully horizontal.

To our absolute shock, the mailbox door opened…!!!!!!!! And I got my keys back. :D :D :D we are SO made for burglary… what the hell am I doing at a bank!!! Hahaha

Finally Friday

Today I saw a very dead rat. It was laying smack dab in the middle of the cement bike path, laying on its right side with what seemed to be a skinny tire track on its neck. Its long rat tail stretched nearly 5cm long, thick, dry and ropelike, and its eyes were open with no emotion. Its small yellow teeth were visible under its furry lips, and its little paws gripped at nothing, close to its chest.

Things like that really make me sad. I didn't know whether to kick the rat to the side of the road (to avoid it getting any more tire tracks), report it to the Animal Society (u know, like SPCA), or to just leave it there (that I did anyway). But what surprised me was the size of the rat. After catching my mouse just a few days earlier, I was under the impression that Dutch mice were small n' cute. But this rat was huuge!! Probably around 6-7 inches long (just the body). Yuck!

I'm soo glad the weekend's here. The sun has been out almost all week long (finally) and it's been an amazing 23 sunny degrees almost daily. Also, I'll be having another visitor from Vancouver! This time it's a guy I haven't seen in 5(?) years or more?? We used to work together at A&W, back in the heyday when I didn't work for money, had no problems with scrubbing toilets glove-free, scraping dried ketchup off the walls of the garbage can, reusing garbage bags, cleaning up after trailer-park type customers, etc. (hey it was just part of the job).

I remember even that there was one time when I cashed out, and we were short $100. Back then, I felt so responsible on the job that I went straight to the bank and took $100 out of my own account to even out the register. (Wow, I almost forgot about this.) Back then, I actually took my job seriously, even tho it was just a burger joint. I really made an effort to do well, to be nice to every customer and treat my job as if it were really something. When someone forgot their pop on the counter, I would run out into the public parking lot, in my gawdy grey faded clown pants and vertically shiped oversized shirt, just to make sure they didn't go thirsty after downing all that lard in the form of burgers and fries. I was such a good employee!!!! :) *pat on back*

Well, today is another story. When I find a better job, one that is not as dry, boring and processed, I am pretty sure I will go back to being a good employee (I think :) ).

WE GOT HIM!!

We first found him rustling inside of an open Doritos bag. Scared as hell, Lorea and I poked at it randomly with a chinese wooden backscratcher, feeling around for what seemed like a huge, meaty rat with big yellow teeth and red eyes. Eventually I clipped the bag shut with clothespins, but somehow it seemed to have escaped while we were mesmerized with Greys Anatomy on TV or something.

Anyway, that was in Feb and since then I've seen a mouse on and off (not sure if it's the same one?) and it didn't really bother me. But a few days ago, I decided to clean my kitchen stove finally since I would be having visitors, and was extremely grossed out to see 20+ mouse poop between my gas elements. On top of that, there were sticky dried up pools of what had to be mouse piss, cuz it wouldn't dilute or wipe away easily.

Normally, I wouldn't be for hurting animals in any way. That's why I avoided rat poisons, mouse traps, etc. because it is just so sad to kill them. But seeing the 'chocolate sprinkles' on my stovetop was the last straw. I mean, I think I could've lived w/ having a lil mouse run around now n then, but if it's going to poop all over the places where I cook my food, I say poison that mofo!!

So as I was mentally prepared to do some mouse killing, we got home last night and what do y'know!!! There in my mouse trap was a tiny itty-bitty mousie!! (Maija my friend from Finland had lent me her ethical mouse trap.) The lil thing was sooo cute, it was standing so still and he had eaten all of the peanut butter bread I had put in the trap maybe 3 or 4 weeks ago(!). After a while he went crazy and ran around and around the trap, trying desperately to get out, but still couldnt. hehe. he was so cute, with his lil itsy-bitsy paws gripping the metal railings.

I always thought mice would be ugly but this one was really cute, and now that I see other mice pictures, they really *are* cute! In the end, we took the trap outside and released him into the wild. I wonder if I can catch more mice!! :D