The Wasp Exterminator

Due to the embarrassing nature of this story, I have to keep the person featured in it completely anonymous. So, no matter how many times you Loyal Readers ask, I absolutely will not reveal that it was my sister Lori.

Whoops. I guess there goes that. Anyway, she called me today to tell me there had been a slight emergency in her household. It seems two wasps were flying around in the large upstairs bedroom where my niece and nephew were playing. They screamed for their mother’s help.

No big deal. Lori is a veteran “home engineer” and was prepared. She had never had to use it before, but she kept on hand a can of special insecticide spray made especially for wasps. It kills nearly on contact, and you can shoot it from as far as 20 feet away.

“Of course, the tricky part was aiming it,” she said.

Makes sense. A wasp isn’t very big, so hitting two of them from 20 feet away would be no small feat. And missing could be very dangerous, as the wasps might get angry and come after her. However, this was no time for fear; she had her children’s safety to think about. So, she waited until the wasps settled in one place, aimed, and fired.

Unfortunately, her aim was slightly off, inasmuch as she shot herself directly in the face.

“AAAUGH!” Lori exclaimed, dropping the can. “I’M THE STUPIDEST PERSON I KNOW!” *

She then blindly stumbled downstairs until she could get to a sink to rinse out her eyes. Luckily, she was okay; nothing a little cold water couldn’t take care of. She climbed back upstairs just in time to duck from almost getting sprayed again, this time by her son. Apparently, Bo picked up the can and started shooting at the wasps himself. Only he decided he didn’t need any namby-pamby sissy aiming method such as waiting for them to settle on a surface. He was going guns-a-blazin’ wherever they flew.

“There was insecticide everywhere,” said Lori.

Finally, having secured the can back from her son, she successfully killed the two wasps by shooting them when they landed near the window.

“The wasps were dead,” she said. “But when I told my husband about the whole ordeal later, he took my can of mace away.”

*Her words, not mine. I promise.

Take Me Out To the Ballgame

For those that are new to this blog, your loyal loving blogger has a younger sister with a similar smart-ass sense of humor. A lot of our conversations spontaneously become “contests” to see who can either:

1. Persevere the longest, or

2. Irritate the other the most

Actually, it is usually a combination of the two. Anyway, what follows is a near-verbatim conversation we had on the phone about a year and a half ago:

Lori: “Joe, don’t forget that you promised to come with me and my son to the baseball game next week.”

Me: “Of course. Can you do me a favor and send me an e-mail so I can put it on my calendar?”

Lori: “No problem. Can you do me a favor?”

Me: “Sure, anything.”

Lori: “Can you give me a call to remind me to send you an e-mail reminding you about the baseball game?”

Me: “Of course, I’ll do anything for my sister. Would you mind doing something for me?”

Lori: “Sure.”

Me: “Would you leave me a voicemail reminding me to call you to remind you to send me an e-mail reminding me about the baseball game?”

Lori: “Of course. But, um, would you mind doing me a favor?”

Me: “You name it.”

Lori: “Could you send me a fax reminding me to leave you a voicemail to remind you to call me to remind me to send you an e-mail reminding you about the baseball game?”

Me: “Of course I will! You know I’d do anything for you, Lori. But would you mind doing me a favor?”

Lori: “Yes, of course.”

Me: “Could you send me a text message to remind me to send you a fax to remind you to leave me a voicemail reminding me to call you to remind you to send me an e-mail reminding me about the baseball game?”

Lori: “Sure. But would you mind doing me a favor?”

This went on and on and on and on. I cannot remember who “won” this conversation, but since she is not here to argue, I will go on record as saying that it was I that came out victorious and she that embarrassingly lost track of who had to do what.