You don't know AC from fluxin DC!

(wa-doop wa-oo, wa-doop wa-oo)

A fun filled weekend with friends and family. I had some peoples down to the 'partment to catch the season premiere of Battlestar Galactica (yes; its on sci-fi, and no; I don't care what you think is cool and what isn't.) We grabbed some Beaverdale Pizza and Big Gulps to go along with it and had ourselves a rockin Friday night. Frackin' right. Saturday featured sleeping in, watching 3 episodes of Lost in my pajamas until 4pm and then tailgating in Ames. After leaving the grass lots, we hoofed it to Jimmy Johns to kill the time before the Stuart Davis show at the Octagon Center for the Arts. A CD release show, the album "¿what" finally showcased several of my favorite Stu songs previously unrecorded live or otherwise. After getting our fill of sardonic, humorous, and enlightening zen buddhism we again traveled across town just in time to see Jerry's solo show at Loites' favortie coffee shop, Sante Fe. A big thank you to Loites for driving home since I can't stay awake in a car for more than 10 mins. Sunday was also a party. Hy-Vee breakfast with Madre and Roscommon followed by a Target run for a much needed vacuum cleaner. The clean apartment was good, but had a sad turn towards midnight.
See, our apartment is 'infested' with a solitary tiny mouse, whom I affectionately named Ralph (after Ralph S. Mouse from the book The Mouse and the Motorcycle). Sunday, we purchased two kinds of mouse traps; two old fashioned wire traps (finger-breakers) and two neo-modern traps which didn't seem as, uh... gripping. Tragically, Ralph wandered out that night and became entrapped in one of the new-age traps. Only, Ralph didn't die. He merely started struggling loudly and squeeking. Roscommon and I were appalled and for about 5 minutes, didn't know what to do, not wanting to even look at the tragic scene which we were listening to. We couldn't let him go outside, as there was likely an access point into the apt from the outside or basement from which he came to begin with, and we couldn't just sit there and listen to him struggle all night until he starved to death or just gave up. We came to a compromise. Roscommon would use tongs to pick up the trap and still struggling mouse and place it into the sac held by me which I took outside and placed in the large trash can. I came back in a agreed w/ roscommon that neither of us felt very good about what had just ensued. I don't like killing animals (unless they're spiders) and part of me felt very evil for what we had done. Farewell, Ralph, may you find your way to the infinite cheese and peanut-butter fields above.