DOWN WITH PANTS!

Good god, I fucking hate ants! Yesterday we came home from some shopping and lunch and found a line of ants snaking from the outside the stairway outside, all the way up the side of the house, down the railing, around the flower pots, under the front door, around the dining room hugging the wall all the way, around the bar into the kitchen attacking the garbage can, continuing on farther into the kitchen to the pantry and finally all the way up the wall, over the door, into a cabinet where they found themselves our poor honey bear which was totally engulfed in ants. YUCK!

Immediately I set out for Lowe's to pick up some weapons of mass destruction while Death? eliminated what the ants wanted. Fifteen minutes later I returned armed with spray and outdoor traps. We started by carpet bombing the bastards with the spray, killing as many as we could quickly. Despite the massive loss of ant life they kept sending troops into the battlefield. So I set up the traps right in the middle of their track outside and laughed maniacally as they walked up the ramp and fell into the poison or confusedly turned around and went back. Of course, I didn't let them get very far because I came armed with spray and I let them have it at full nozzle sparing only a couple so that they could go back to their queen and inform her of the massacre that had taken place. We finished off the extermination by searching out the remaining insurgents taking no mercy on any of these stragglers.

I am happy to report that we are now 99.99% ant free. We have fortified our apartment against these fuckers by setting up the outside traps near both door as well as spraying every possible entry point into our apartment. I hate to kill anything, but I fucking hate ants, and they had to die. Now I can put this awful, psychotic killing spree behind me and get on with my life.

If only I could stop itching. It feels like I have ants all over me. Damn this post traumatic stress disorder! Good god, I fucking hate ants!