M-I-C, K-E-Y, M-O-U-GOTTA BE KIDDING ME

For this particular blog I am going to attempt to do some that’s been quite difficult for me to in most of my posts. I am going to try and tell this story with using the phrase, “That’s what she said.” While it is one of my all time favorite phrases (I loathe Steve Carell for this), I’ve found myself saying it and typing it too often. So without another 17 seconds of wasting your time… here we go!

The other day I was woken up by girlfriend who seemed to be having a slight panic attack. After asking her what was wrong she told me I had to get up… (resisting, resisting). Well obviously! You don’t wake someone up to tell them to go back to bed. That’s like firing someone so they’ll work.

Anyway, I asked her what was wrong and she told me there was a mouse in our bathroom. My first thought was “Why?” My first thought should have been “How?” but we’re talking about the kid who called his dad before the fire department when his car caught on fire during his senior year of high school. (Fun fact for you)

So I got up and walked to the bathroom. With my girlfriend behind me I walked up to the door and slowly started to peak my head into the bathroom, and… I didn’t see anything.

I opened the door quickly, ran in, and slammed the door behind me. I searched my bathroom all over the place (all 5 square feet of it) and finally found a small, tiny, computer mouse sized mouse curled up in the corner, shaking like Muhammad Ali.

Well I figured, since I have a landlord, that I might as well call him to figure out what he was going to do. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Hi. I have a bit of a predicament.

Landlord: What can I do for you?

Me: My girlfriend discovered a mouse in our bathroom. I would like to know how you’re going to handle it.

Landlord: (girlish shrill) Oh My Gawd! Are you serious? I don’t know. I’m afraid of mice. See what you can 
do about it.

Me: Are You Effin’ Kidding Me!?

Needless to say I decided to take measures into my own hands… well actually, measures into my own cooking pots and pans. I grabbed the biggest pot I could find and jumped back into the bathroom.

It was like trying to wrangle up a pig. The mouse wouldn’t cooperate and all of a sudden I felt like Nathan Lane. (From Mouse Hunt, not The Producers)

After about 20 minutes of exercise in my bathroom (hold it together Paul... not this time) I finally caught him with my toilet cleaner. Yes you heard me right, my toilet cleaner. (See picture)

Well actually, it was the holder for the toilet brush. Who knew the bottom of it was hollow? Not this kid!

So I slip a magazine under the holder and asked my girlfriend to open the doors for me. So she Usain Bolted out both doors while I made myself outside. I put the container on the ground expecting the mouse to run off. 

Instead it insisted on hanging around. We’ll I had to get to work in 4 hours and I was in no mood to just “chill.” So I kicked the damn thing and the mouse shot out like Augustus Gloop.

I walked back inside, washed my rodent infested hands, contemplated throwing out the pots and pans, decided to throw out the toilet holder, made fun of my girlfriend for standing on a chair, and went back to sleep.

To all of you that may run into the same situation, save yourself some time and simply ask your landlord when applying for an apartment whether or not he likes peanuts and never forgets.

Because chances are, if he does, then he probably shares other characteristics of Elephants as well which could leave you playing Mouse Trap.

Remember that game?? No one knew how to play it but we all knew how to set it up. Best 10 seconds ever. That's what she said... DAMMIT!!