Just when I was beginning to sleep through the night...

Apparently there are worse things out there than a squirrel with a shifty gaze....

CLICK HERE to read the article accompanying this headline...and to watch the video. Ohhh that horrible, horrible video!

UPDATE:

Moody St. Clair: I wonder if he is related to the gnome who lives at the end of my hall. Have I ever told you about him?

Little Miss Westchester: NO! And please don't. I don't think I would ever be able to come back to your apartment.

Moody: No, he's nice. He doesn't ever leave his apartment though; but, he did make a toboggan out of Popsicle sticks this winter.

Westchester: !?!?!?

Happy Halloween

In lieu of participating in Company X’s annual Halloween celebration last Friday, I decided to take a “mental health” day off from work and spend an afternoon of shopping and manicures with my mom.

Rather than go to our tried and tested mani/pedi spot, my mother insisted on checking out a newly-opened nail place that she had recently discovered in search of “a better deal.”

Ignoring for a moment that my mother’s “Magic Nails Salon” was located in the city’s oldest part of town, I accepted her proposal without protest-as I am flexible like that, and she was fitting the bill; however as soon as we pulled up to the store front, I had the sinking suspicion that any money we saved on manicures would quickly be spent on necessary, post-manicure tetanus shots.

My suspicions were, unfortunately, confirmed when we pulled up to the structure where the nail salon was located. Before housing nail salons and other such shops, the building itself had probably served as a two-family home; so long ago perhaps, that by the looks of the place, some of the town’s founding settlers had probably lent a hand in its construction.

Once we entered the store, I was quickly assigned to a small man-icurist named Kevin, who silently led me to his booth, where I was instructed to remove my rings and sit down.

For a blessed while, Kevin completely ignored me, choosing instead to converse with another salon employee in Vietnamese. This discussion lasted for quite a while, with Kevin breaking from the dialog only once to exclaim, “I don’t care if your husband’s a doctor!”

Finally, he turned his attention back to me and spoke.

Kevin: Are you married?
Westchester: Noooooo….
Kevin: …….Oh my, you have short nails! No, these are no good. You want me to put tips on them?
Westchester: No, no. My nails are ok.
Kevin: (Pause) No, these are not ok. Let me put on tips. You give me three months, and I can have your nails as long as MINE!

And with that, Kevin threw down the nail file he was holding and matter-of-factly fanned out his nails for my viewing pleasure. Each tiny digit was adorned with dramatically long fingernails-whose extreme lengths were only to be out done by the longest nails that adorned his pinky fingers. Kevin’s eyes flared with pride, and I bit my lip to hold back the screams that so desperately wanted to come out.

At that point, my mother shouted over her shoulder that I was a life-long nail biter, far beyond any sort of nail-biting redemption.

Kevin slowly shook his head in sad resignation; my short nails a personal affront to the very long, very cat like nails he had worked so hard to cultivate on his own hands.

Going to the chapel.

Beaker Callahan is getting married next week.

And while, in reality, this wedding will make her Mrs. Beaker Wermerskirchen, I think in the spirit of brevity (and my own personal sanity), we will leave her name as Callahan on this blog.

During next week's much-anticipated nuptials (the wedding of the season, as far as I am concerned), I will be standing in as Beaker's Maid of Honor-a job that requires little knowledge of hand to hand combat, but has everything to do with making sure the bride has an (as close as humanly possible) worry-free experience.

As this is my second time in the role, I believe that I am prepared for whatever challenges may come my way....save perhaps a squirrel infestation in the ball room, in which case, Beaker-you are on your own!

However this weekend, I will be staying close to home to help my new boyfriend-that's right, my boyfriend-celebrate his birthday. I started dating Mr. Mister a little over 2 months ago-and am really enjoying the whole thing. Although, having been mostly-single for the better part of three years, it is an odd thing not having to worry about being the only single member in attendance of an otherwise couple's night out, or desperately having to scrounge up a plus one-for any weddings or couple-centric events that might come my way.

I haven't told Mr. Mister about Super Secret Rantings; however, I hope that when I do, he can accept my many quirks, including the fact that I have numerous fears, many of which are fictional or could fit comfortably inside of a lunch box.

Try not to panic...

I have been warning people about THIS GROWING THREAT for months, maybe now people will finally start listening to me!

A land war has truly begun.

Happy Monday!

Charlotte's Web 2: The Reckoning

For the third summer in a row, there is an outbreak of spiders in my apartment.

That’s right, spiders. And for the past three years I have bravely weathered this annual infestation with the type of fortitude and courage that is exhibited in absolutely NO other aspects of my life. Usually, when faced with a dilemma, I tend to approach the trouble as a toddler might weather a trip to the mall: with a lot of whining and/or pleas for hugs.

That’s not happening here though. No sir! These days when I spot a spider, I fight every urge to whine; and instead, immediately jump into action with the help of my Bissell hand held vacuuming device. Search and destroy! I am an unstoppable force.

At this point in the story, some of you (the LOSERS) are probably feeling sorry for the spiders. You are probably thinking that these little guys are just minding their own business on my ceiling, and have done nothing to deserve such a dramatic and (likely) painful death within the churning underbelly of my electronic cleaning products. Well stop!

These mini-nemesi are far less disadvantaged than you might think! Far from it! In fact, the spiders in my apartment have two major advantages going for them, which often make my size advantage a lot less advantageous.

Spider Advantage One: The spiders in my apartment are sprightly, and can often jump into a good hiding spot long before I even have my vacuum cleaner out of the closet.

Spider Advantage Two: I have unusually poor hand-eye coordination for someone my age, and even when I do get my vacuum out in time, it is often a short-lived victory, as I usually miss my target by several feet on my first offensive attack. At that point, the spider will flip its little legs off of the ceiling and fall somewhere behind my refrigerator and wall, or directly onto the top of my head.

As you can see, neither of these scenarios could be considered a victory for yours truly-by ANY stretch of the imagination.

All in all I have to hand it to the little guys. Considering I am around 1,000,000 times their size, they usually put up a pretty decent fight. If something 1,000,000 times MY size tried to vacuum me; well, let’s just say there would be a SIGNIFIGANT and noticeable drop in the number of postings on this blog…..

Squirrels: 0, Little Miss Westchester: 1

As you know by now, I hate squirrels. They are annoying, strangely aggressive, and they have pointy teeth (see: Top Three Fears_Vampires); which was why I was both thrilled (and disgusted) to discover a dead squirrel lying on the ground near my apartment building the other night.

Thrilled, because that is one less squirrel that I have to worry about jumping on my head from some dastardly perch in a tree; and disgusted, because well, the dead squirrel was missing its head. Its little body frozen in what I would image was the grips of terror (although I can't be sure, because there was no head, and thus no facial expressions upon which I could base these claims).

Ultimately, I can't be sure how the little guy met his (very-timely) end-but my gut tells me it had something to do with another animal removing its head. Well that, or the deceased read my blog and was so overwhelmed by my distaste for his species that his head just kindof popped off and rolled away.

Either of these seems like a realistic scenario-so I guess we will have to chalk this up as just another one of the cosmos’ great mysteries-fated to remain unsolved.

Strangers in the Night

In what will probably turn out to be a catastrophically bad decision on my part, I have decided to go ahead with my plans to read Stephen King’s collection of short stories, “Everything’s Eventual.” My fear of the dark notwithstanding, this should prove to be a giant mis-step on my part for many, many reasons.

Firstly, I have an unusually-active imagination, especially when I am alone in my apartment (which happens quite a bit actually, as I live alone and rarely entertain). Last night, for example, even after I had checked and then rechecked all of the closets in my apartment for hidden marauders and/or knife-wielding psychopaths, I still managed to lay awake for OVER an hour in my darkened bedroom waiting in expectant terror.

Gripping my sheets tightly, my eyes darted around the room sure that at any moment a ghost (that I was certain was lurking somewhere behind my Lasko 18" Oscillating Pedestal Fan and my collection of Sex and the City DVDs) would ghoulishly reveal itself to me. Oh I fell asleep eventually, exhausted, and resigned to the fact that I might be killed in my sleep by an unseen foe or a really well-hidden marauder.

What set me off in this dizzying spiral of paranoia, you might ask?

Oh, a teaser for an upcoming episode of the WB’s “Supernatural,” that I accidentally watched before turning in.

Sadly, last night’s debacle is nothing compared to the widely-preventable fallout that resulted in a viewing of The Ring during my senior year of college. Let’s just say that after three sleepless nights and a couple of really cranky days, I did not make my situation any better by visiting the film’s official website or by moving my mini-television out into the hall.

Normally, I avoid scary movies and literature of this nature like the plague-but while catching an evening showing of Grindhouse the other night, I saw a preview for 1408-a movie based on one of the short stories within “Everything’s Eventual.” A quick glance over to my movie-mate Moody St.Clair and it was clear I would NOT be seeing that movie; the trailer scared the crap out of me. But for some reason my mind is making an exception for the book; and like a bird flying towards a window it cannot see-I plan to read every last page, and deal with the long list of shadowy consequences that are sure to follow.

Now would probably be a good time for me to invest in a Starbucks gift card, or to finally give in to that sponsorship deal with Redbull.

Expendability

Yesterday, after posting about some of the zombie-related dreams I’ve been having lately, I immediately began to worry that my Super Secret-dream revelations may have opened the door for possible confusion about the Little Miss Westchester you have come to know, hopefully love, and ultimately think about when you should be working. That being said, I hope you will here me out.

The dreams in question centered around catastrophic zombie plagues that (in the scope of one REM cycle) managed to wipe out most of the world’s population, leaving only myself and a few other survivors to repopulate the Earth and return humans to their proper place at the top of the food chain (this of course is relying upon my dream-assumption that the zombies, thinking the world was void of any additional food sources, would wander into the world’s oceans, never to be seen again).

Make no mistake, fair-reader, if a zombie plague was to descend upon the world, systematically wiping out humanity as we know it, I would definitely NOT be among the survivors. Far from it! More likely I would be one of the first to go-due to my powerlessness to hide without giggling, my incapacity to wield any effective weapon, and (as I recently discovered) my inability to outrun even a soda can as is lazily rolls down a hill.

No, unlike dream-Westchester (who apparently looks like Hilary Duff and is simply helpless against the fabled and intoxicating charms of chest hair) I am no hero-and lack all of the necessary life-skills one would need to survive a plague of flesh-eating zombies.

My ONLY hope is, that in the event of a REAL zombie outbreak, that guy from Five for Fighting gets it before me. My reasons for this are two-fold. One: because I think even I could take that guy in a cage match. And Two: beacuse I think a world without Five for Fighting (even a world infested with zombies) would be a better place to be.

Note: If you are interested in learning more about zombies and the havoc they can cause on an eco-system, I would HIGHLY recommend checking out books like I Am Legend (by Richard Matheson) or more importantly, The Zombie Survival Guide (by Max Brooks) from your local library.

Kitties are funny.

Squirrels, the other OTHER white meat.

I just read a story about a squirrel attacking a mail man in Pittsburgh.

This is one of my greatest fears realized.

For those of you who also hate/fear squirrels, you may want to avoid reading THE STORY as it is just too shocking.

Hi to my Seven Loyal Readers!

Lately, the world of Little Miss Westchester has been quite busy, and fraught with change. So, in an effort to keep my 7 loyal readers in the loop (you still there guys?), here is an update on some of the more pressing issues I have been secretly ranting about over the past few months.

1. Angry Ear
While my ear no longer seems “angry;” little care I, now that I have received the ridiculously-overpriced hospital bill for my ear emergency. As you may recall, I scratched the inside of my ear a few weeks ago while conducting an ill-advised experiment to test just HOW much of my hand I could comfortably fit into my ear. Apparently, not much. And, when I went to the walk in clinic the next day-the doctor there looked in my ear for less than one minute before telling me that my ear was “too angry,” and that she could do absolutely nothing for me. She then sent me to her hospitals ear-nose-throat doctor who, she thought, would be able to help me. For that, she charged me $82. Eighty two dollars to tell me my ear was ANGRY and that she was having none of it. Trust me honey, my ear is not the only thing that is angry now.

2. Countdown to Christmas
According to Coworker B’s Christmas Countdown Chalk Board (that she has been maintaining since April), it is now only 65 days to Christmas. Ho….ho….hoooooo.

3. Need for Speed...ing Ticket.
I am sure we were all relieved when my friend’s lawyer husband was able to reduce my latest 6-point speeding ticket (which would have brought my infraction score up to a lose-your-license 12 points) to a 2-point speedometer infraction. I had to pay an extra $100 for this, but that was a small price to pay to keep my license. I was feeling good about the whole thing, until I got a letter in the mail yesterday “asking” me if I wanted to take a traffic safety course. As a point of reference, my mother didn’t have to take her traffic safety course for speeding until she was 36. Let the record show, I have her beat by 10 years.

4. Dating for Dummies
While I don’t often blog about the highs and lows of my dating life on this blog, I will say that my decision to ignore my dating scene may be less to do with the dates themselves and more to do with the fact that there really aren’t any. However, last week I had 2 dates, and tonight I am going on date number two with Guy Pearce look-a-like Guy Milwaukee. I had a great time last Monday with Guy, and I am really looking forward to spending some more time getting to know him. Stay tuned for updates next week.

5. Squirrels
I still hate them.

Have a great weekend everybody!

Dear F. Early, Here's your F'n update!

I had a nice time on Monday. My date was smart, funny and looked a little bit like Guy Pearce if you squint your eyes. Tonight I have my second day of the week with, that’s right, someone entirely different.

For some reason, my dating pattern seems to go as follows: I will be very single for a period of time and then two guys at once will be interested. Luckily, Lance Friendly has moved to Omaha and can’t possibly meddle with these two dating scenarios-although I miss Lance and wish he would visit.

That’s about all I can say on the matter at this time, because date number one turned out to be cool and I haven’t had date number two yet. So there you go. There’s my update.

On an entirely unrelated note, I have recently developed an innate fear of squirrels. They are always around when I am walking to my car, and I am fearful that these seemingly-quiet little fuzzy-faces will get the wrong idea…and attack me.

One would think that at the age of 26, I would be able to get over this new neurosis and let reason be my guide. After all, squirrels have always been the animal most-likely to end up as road-kill; and if I timed it right, and had a good tee, I could probably kick a squirrel a good 20 feet farther than any soccer ball.

But Squirrels have pointy teeth, and I bet their bites would sting. Plus they can jump out at you really fast......so I would rather not mess with them. No sir, Squirrels are scary.

Dreamweaver...

Last night, I dreamt that my bed was infested with a rare species of red bed bugs that had roller skates for feet.

After I woke up this morning, I somehow knew that my life would never be the same.

(Rare artistic peak into the dreamscape of Little Miss Westchester)