I'm in my car, gathering my things together, and i look to my right and see a face.
A pale, round, teenage boy face, staring into the passenger side window of my car. A very drunk looking face. Scared the hell out of me for a second, but then i remembered - if there's one thing i know how to deal with, it's drunk teenage boys. So I get out of the car.
"Heyyyy ... whasshh yourre name?"
"Jusssh want to shay hi."
"Okay - it's kasey."
(this whole conversation, i'm inching my way towards my house - this isn't a conversation I want to have, just one i want to get through.)
"Hoowww old are you?"
"Too old for you."
"Awww ... don't shay thatt."
"Okay, then. How old are you?"
"I ashked first." (apparently he retained some logic through the drunken haze.)
"Fine. I'm 24. How old are you?"
*pause* "I'm twenny one."
(i didn't beleve this for a second. I would have put him at seventeen, tops. Though the "hardcore" bandanna wrapped around his head made it difficult to tell for sure.)
"See I'm too old for you."
"Aww ... noo yer not *stumblestumble* you live here?"
At this point, one of his friends found him and dragged him back to the party, which made me much happier, because I didn't want to deal with him following me all the way to my door.
I locked the deadbolt when i got inside - the last thing i need right now is teenage drunks falling into my living room. I gave that up years ago.
My downstairs is as clean as it's been in a while, and it's still not clean enough, i'm sure. If i had more time, i'd do a better job, but i've got to be awake in six hours. I really don't want to hear her bitching about it tomorrow. The illicit kitties still have to be rounded up and confined.
This morning, I found myself in the strange position of being on my mom's porch, holding a possum on a leash and totally unsure of how to proceed.
My mom called the other night to tell me that there was a possum in her garage, and it needed to be out of her garage, and she wanted it out right NOW. Apparently my dad is afraid of possums, of all things. I told her that I'd deal with it when i got down there, and this morning after work, i grabbed a leash and walked into the garage.
I found the little one nested in between two machines, having built itself a home of plastic sheeting. It appeared well fed (probably on cat food) and clean. For waking it up, i felt bad. He looked comfy. But i pulled the sheeting out, and after a couple failed tries, got the leash around its neck. Flea and Harley were circling, quite interested in my rodent on a leash. The possum, meanwhile, is frozen in possum-scary-face position, which if you haven't seen it, is mouth wide open, making a vague hissy sound. That's the extent of possum self defense for the most part - they're pretty fucking harmless. and cute.
I get the possum outside, and go to release it. Problem is, he's pulling backwards, which keeps the leash tight around his neck, and i'm not wanting to reach in at the scared possum to loosen the leash. They can bite, and i don't need to get bitten by wildlife. So we play at this game on the porch for a few minutes, and I'm just glad no one is home to see me doing this. Finally, I get him backed up against the wall, and am able to loosen the leash with the assistance of a broomstick. He went scampering off into the neighbors yard, and hopefully he will make a nice home in their garage.
he really was cute.