I bet they're more fun when they're drunk.

I didn't consciously do this, but I've developed a secret code word for annihilating and/or relocating unwanted crickets from my home. It started thanks to the many numbers of crickets who consider my homestead a Beverly Hills mansion in their own little world of real estate. Every time I'd see one of the things, I'd shriek in excitement and point, never mind that there's not actually anyone else to see what I'm pointing at. And when this happens upwards of half a dozen times per day (on average; if I'm home all day, it's usually 2-3 times that), you may have a tendency to develop an operative codeword, just as I did. Bascially, instead of yelling "CRICKET!" and pointing, I have discovered that I consistently use the following:


I've spent many a waking hour abandoning any pretense of being able to study or focus on cleaning or arranging the place in favor of following the MFBs (see above: Motherfucking Bitches) around or trying to find their hiding places. Or, better still, trying to figure out how the hell they keep getting into my house. I mean, I understand that an occasional cricket is normal, but this has gotten out of hand.

In case you're one of the unfortunate souls who follows me on Twitter, you may have noticed that I managed to get rid of two crickets who were taking up residence in one set of my kitchen cabinets. I've since nabbed a third one.

In addition to what is evidently a safe entry from some spot that leads to my cabinets, I think I've found another of their favorite entryways. (Besides the door; they do like to sneak in through the front door. Yeah, I know.) Anyway, I'm 90% sure that one of the points of entry for the band of renegade crickets is through an electrical outlet which, for reasons that escape me, is not flush against the wall.

How did I come to this conclusion? Simple: there's a constant chirping sound coming from some self-proclaimed "gift" to the world of cricket legs. No doubt he's calling all his little cricket girlfriends over for a huge orgy so they can continue their take-over of my house. I've also decided they probably laid eggs there, or else in my gigantic curtains, because every night or so I see little teenaged crickets (we'll call them "Prepubescent Bitches") hanging out right in that spot.

I suppose, too, this explains why that top plug in the outlet doesn't work. Considering how much noise MFBs make, especially when aided by great acoustics in the form of smooth wall and tile, the damn things really worthless sources of electricity.