Who knew that house flies were so ... fertile? On Sunday, my roommate and I were preparing lunch when she said "I'm kinda freaked out that there are six flies on the door." Sure enough, there were a bunch of them crawling on the kitchen door window. We stepped back, glanced around the kitchen and suddenly realized that our two kitchen windows and door were COVERED in little crawling houseflies. We promptly screamed, ran around the kitchen trying to decide what to do, finally grabbed a couple of flyswatters and went to town. Within 20 minutes, we had accomplished our housefly genocide and vacuumed up the remains for a dusty and unceremonious burial with not an ounce of remorse. I think perhaps part of my spirit died with those little creatures. On second thought ... no effin' way. Call me a heartless mass murderer but I'd do it again in a New York minute. Them things are DIRTY.
(With no other explanation, we determined that the Musca Domestica progenitors must have laid eggs near the carcass of the dead mouse recently removed from under the stove. And the batch of offspring came to life. So. Freakin'. Gross.)
Please, Lord, let this be the last of the plagues. I don't think I can take much more. I made the mistake of looking up house flies on Wikipedia and discovered that a female can lay up to 9,000 eggs. Please, God, nooooo ....
But let me now move from mass murderer to bar mistress. Yep, I'm putting my pouring skills to the test tomorrow night - in a sacrificial effort to support a wonderful nonprofit called Net Impact, I'm giving up a Wednesday evening to get my friends drunk. Unfortunately, I don't get to keep the tips, but 10% of all bar sales go to this nonprofit. How nice, no? I feel like I should read up on mixing drinks, but figure that as along as I add plenty o' alcohol, the Gang of 100 and our new kids on the block aren't gonna care if I know how to properly blend a Mai Tai.
Surely there will be all sorts of excellent stories after tomorrow night ... like who's trying to party in whose pants among the Newbies. And who's the fake drunk. And who's a bad tipper. And how the boy I've been dating the most and the boy I used to be dating the most might both attend. Hmmm ...
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